Page 45 of Realm of Dreams & Shadows

“Whoa,” she says, opening it to reveal all the rings and bracelets and necklaces. “This stuff is totally cool.”

“Thanks,” I say. “I made them. Well,” I add in response to her impressed reaction, “I made them with my mom.”

“They’re all beautiful,” she says, picking up a lapis lazuli bracelet. “This is amazing.”

“You can have it,” I say.

“Really?”

I nod. The truth is, it’s one of my favorites, but that’s part of why I want to give it to her. Because making that bracelet with my mom—sitting side by side while she made her ring—had been a special day.

And Tia is a special friend.

“Wow. Cora. Thank you.” The genuine gratitude in her voice warms me. “I’m totally wearing it tonight,” she says. “I’ll wear a white shirt so the color really pops.”

“You should wear this too,” I say, bending over to grab my treasure box. I take out my necklace with Mom’s ring, and slide the ring off the chain. “This one’s not for keeps,” I say as I give her the ring, “but it goes with the ensemble.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely. Mom and I made it together. Well, sort of. She did most of the work, but I helped polish the stone. I spent hours trying to get the white line off before she thought to mention that it was the flaw that made the stone look extra special and totally funky.” I grin. “Funky fits you. For tonight, anyway.”

She slides the bracelet on her arm, then twists it at various angles. “Okay, if you’re sure. The ring will just make the whole look pop more.”

“Exactly,” I say, as she studies the ring I’d seen my mother wear every day since she made it. It’s by far my favorite piece, with the setting made of some sort of alloy that makes it look like copper or silver, depending on the lighting. The band is about a centimeter wide, and the main part is engraved with five symbols. Runes, Mom had told me. And that flawed stone gleams bluer than the sky.

It’s beyond beautiful, and my mother never ever took it off.

“I probably should mention that my mom was wearing it when she died.” I swallow, determined not to cry as I remember that horrible day. “In case that means you’d rather pass. Bad energy or something.”

Tia eyes me, and though she doesn’t say anything, I’m sure she understands. “Sometimes a ring is just a ring.” Her voice is soft. Gentle.

“Yeah,” I say, realizing I’ve never once actually put that ring on my finger. Instead, I’ve always worn it next to my heart.

Now I watch as Tia slides it on. For a moment, the stone seems to glow, but that must be a reflection from her fairy lights. Then Tia yelps, rips it off her hand, and drops it to the floor with a very harsh, “Holy shit!”

“What?”

“That sucker burned me.” She holds out her hand, and I see the line of angry red where the band touched her skin.

“Seriously?” How could a ring have burned her? “Maybe you’re allergic to the metal?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Pass it to me.”

“Um, hell no. You want it, you pick it up.”

Fair enough. I crouch for the ring, hesitating before touching it, then do it quickly. When the tip of my finger doesn’t ignite, I wrap my hand around it and sit back down on the edge of the bed. “Feels fine to me.”

“Me too, until I put it on my finger.”

I shrug, then slide the ring on, wincing a little in anticipation of…nothing. “It’s fine,” I say. “Fits fine, doesn’t burn. Just your average piece of jewelry. Maybe there was some old cleaning product on the inside?”

“Maybe,” she says, clearly not buying it.

“Well, it’s not hot now. You want to try again?”

“Hell, no.”