Chapter 3 Lean on Me
Lean on Me
Everyone in the Republic of Balance knew about prohiberis. The material had been used for thousands of years to block out magic, and it worked on nearly every species, except for dragon shifters.
River had first been taught about prohiberis when she was a young girl, and she’d learned more about it in medical school.
These days, prohiberis was considered an outdated, last-ditch effort that should only be used to block magic in the rarest of circumstances.
Studies had proven that being around the material long-term could be incredibly damaging to one’s body and mind.
River hadn’t needed to read the studies to know the material was dangerous.
When she was twelve, she’d gone through what she lovingly called her “Four Kingdoms” phase.
River had read about the High Ladies of Life and Death, and she knew all about how the Death Elf had been cut off from her magic for over two and a half centuries.
Historians agreed that the High Lady’s mind never truly recovered from the extensive exposure to prohiberis, even after she found her bonded mate. They lived a quiet, happy life, and they seemed to have found peace once the balance was restored.
By all accounts, the High Lady of Death had known joy, but even joy couldn’t erase the marks of what had been done to her.
Her mind, body, and soul bore permanent witness to the trials she’d endured. Joy couldn’t heal scars, couldn’t remove them completely, because some were too deep, and some had formed her into the person she’d become.
The prohiberis had contributed to her scars, to her pain.
And now, River was wearing it.
River was aware, in an academic, detached way, that she was focusing on the prohiberis to fend off thoughts about her father’s death. She could feel that grief inside her, prodding at the edges of her mind, but she was numb. Cold.
She was afraid of what would happen when she started feeling that pain again, but it was a problem for a later time.
One when she wasn’t in a room made of prohiberis.
Besides, there was something else River needed to address.
Prohiberis worked best if a person was in contact with it, but merely being around the mineral for a prolonged period would cut off one’s access to magic.
There were specialty government buildings made out of prohiberis.
Prisons, too, but they were used sparingly because of their effects.
However, Nikhail was here with her. And if he’d been here the whole time since her father’s death, then…
River’s heart felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. She slowly dragged her gaze to Nikhail’s, where concern swam in his amber orbs.
“You’re empty, too.”
The air fae didn’t ask for clarification. He simply nodded—confirmation of what River had already figured out.
“Nik, you can’t… You shouldn’t be here.” River shoved at his shoulders, trying to get him to move. He had to leave and get out of this place. It was stealing his magic.
How could he stand this? How could he be sitting here so casually when a vital part of him had been stripped away?
“You need your magic,” she cried. “It’s a part of you.”
Nikhail had always been in tune with the elements, even more than most fae. She’d seen him use his magic to speak to the wind. He wielded his power like a well-formed blade. It was a part of him, a natural extension of who he was.
One that he’d cut off to be with her.
River shoved at Nikhail’s shoulders, but he ignored her, gathering her against him and brushing his lips across her forehead. “That doesn’t matter.”
She struggled, trying to shimmy out of Nikhail’s hold. The air fae’s arms were made of steel, though, and she couldn’t make him budge.
“It does,” River insisted, her voice cracking. “By the Black Sands, it does matter.”
It mattered almost as much as the grief she was ignoring and the emptiness trying to consume her.
His grip tightened. “No, it doesn’t.”
“You have to go.” She was being stubborn; she knew it, yet she couldn’t stop the words from coming out of her mouth.
How could he give up his magic, even temporarily, for her?
“No,” he said firmly. “You needed me, so I came.”
As if it was that simple.
“But your magic—”
He shook his head. “It’s not more important than you. I couldn’t leave you here, alone.”
“But—”
“You wouldn’t wake up.” His voice was firm, and something that sounded an awful lot like fear tinged his words. “Days passed, and you were still asleep. There was no way I would abandon you here. My magic is a small price to pay to remain by your side.”
His words rang with truth, a sincerity that couldn’t be faked. As if he truly did not care that he was magicless, because he was with her.
“Okay,” she said after a long moment. “Thank you, Nik. I never would’ve woken up without you.”
The emptiness would’ve devoured her without the call of his voice.
Even so, this was a lot to take in, and River needed a moment. She stood on wobbly legs and, using the wall for support, made her way into the bathroom.
When she returned, Nikhail was still perched on the bed, his feet planted on the floor.
River stood in the middle of the room, looking around.
“So… where are we?”
There weren’t many places in the Republic of Balance that were equipped with rooms like this—or at least, not many that she knew of.
“The Hub,” Nikhail answered after a moment.
River was familiar with the building. Her mother often attended meetings here, as did her brother.
Oh, gods.
River’s heart stopped beating for one long moment before restarting with a jolt.
Her brother.
River had been so worried about herself and her emptiness, she hadn’t even thought about the rest of her family. About Ryker, who had also lost a father.
Not only was she cursed, but she was a gods-awful sister.
“Ryker? Is he…? Did he…? Where…?” A multitude of questions tried to rush out of her at once, and they tangled on the tip of her tongue.
Did Ryker know about their father? Did he find out before he and Brynleigh left to celebrate their bonding? Had he heard that River had lost control again? Did he hate her for calling another storm?
“He knows.” Nikhail took her hand in his, as if he couldn’t help touching her. “He and Brynleigh returned the day of the storm. He’s been coming by daily to check on you, along with the doctors.”
“He knows you’re here?” River asked. As soon as the question left her lips, though, she realized it was silly. Obviously, if Nikhail hadn’t left, then Ryker must have seen him here.
Nikhail dipped his chin.
“Does he… know?”
About us?
The unspoken words swirled around them, and River’s heart writhed. She wasn’t sure what she and Nikhail were; they’d never put a label on what was between them. Maybe that was for the better, because maybe now that Nikhail understood the depth of her curse, he’d walk away for good.
“No. He assumed I helped you because of my relationship with him, and I stayed because I’m his best friend.”
“Oh,” she said softly.
That was a good thing, right? It would make things easier when Nikhail decided she was too much. But that didn’t stop a flash of disappointment from coursing through River.
Nikhail’s thumb grazed her palm. “I wasn’t sure how to correct him—or if I should—so I didn’t. It seemed like the wrong time, and something we’d want to tell him together.”
River chewed on her bottom lip. “That makes sense.”
“It does.” Nikhail inhaled deeply, as if steeling himself. “Ryker would’ve been here more often—he probably would’ve stayed, if he could—but he’s been busy looking after your mom.”
River’s brows knit together. “Wait. What’s wrong with my mom?”
Nikhail gritted his teeth, and a vein ticked in his jaw.
“Nik?” River prodded. “What is going on?”
She knew there was no love lost between Nikhail and her mother—he’d made it clear the night after the bonding ceremony—but this seemed different.
“The Representative hasn’t been… dealing well with the loss,” Nikhail said icily. “She’s been bedridden. Because of grief.”
“Oh,” River said.
What else was there to say?
Her mother’s heartache wasn’t unexpected. Tertia had always loved Cyrus, and it made sense that she would mourn the loss of her love. But if she was bedridden, that meant…
“She didn’t come to visit me?” Even as the question left her lips, River already knew the answer.
Of course, Tertia wouldn’t have come. Not while she was drowning in her own grief. She probably didn’t even consider that River was hurting, that she needed a mother now more than ever.
Had Tertia even thought about River at all?
Probably not.
Every time River thought her mother’s hatred had reached its peak, Tertia would prove her wrong. It was almost laughable, the way the Waterborn matriarch was predictably terrible.
At this rate, River would have been far more surprised if Tertia actually had shown up as a mother and demonstrated any level of maternal care.
River wasn’t sure whether she should laugh, cry, or scream about this.
Maybe all three? This type of situation had never been a topic of study at Highmountain’s School for Young Fae.
She’d learned how to act properly, dress appropriately, and when to speak, but no one had ever talked about what to do when a mother’s love never materialized.
One would think that being in a magical slumber for two weeks would warrant a visit from one’s only living parent, right?
Apparently not.
River wasn’t discounting her mother’s grief. She knew how much it hurt to lose someone, since she’d lost the same person.
It was just that…
Didn’t River deserve to be loved, too? Maybe even just a little?
She wasn’t expecting her mother to fawn at her feet or call her the perfect daughter—the gods only knew River was far from that. But maybe she could’ve had a fraction of her mother’s love. The smallest amount, just enough to know that she was cared for.
Gods.