Rowan
“It wasn’t easy,” said the metalsmith as he wiped his grimy hands on a rag. He spun around in his car, plopping a small, smooth ring in the palm of my hand. “You were right about the stone; it was jade–a sizable, practically flawless hunk of it. Say, where did you find it?”
“On the beach,” I said softly, turning the ring over in my hand.
The entire thing was made of jade, carved right out of the stone Hanna had found on our walk on the beach several weeks before the snow had begun to fall. That was months ago, I thought, wrapping my fingers around the ring. Things had somehow felt easier then.
“There’s enough of the mother-stone left for a second ring, at least partially. Half would need to be metal of some kind, I recommend platinum. It’s what I used to give the first ring supp
