Chapter 12 Broken and Cursed
Broken and Cursed
River had been tasting bile ever since she walked into the ballroom, but now, her head was light, and she felt dizzy. It didn’t seem like her brother, who was standing next to her, was faring much better.
Their mother was holding court.
River had never dared think about what her father’s memorial would entail—that felt intensely dark and macabre, even for someone cursed like her—but never in a million years would she have guessed her mother would do something like this.
Not only was Tertia acting like a queen, but she was throwing a gods-damned party. Because that’s what this was. It might’ve been wrapped up in the dark facade of a memorial, but there was no hiding the truth of what this was.
How could Tertia have done this? Save the black garments adorning every person here, and the urn containing Cyrus’s ashes—something that River wasn’t letting herself think about for too long—nothing here resembled a typical fae memorial.
After the waitstaff had appeared, a violinist had begun to play. The music reminded River of a ball, not a fucking funeral.
Her father’s funeral.
River curled her fingers into fists, and her nails cut into her palms. Each time her mother stopped chatting with someone else, her nails sliced deeper.
“I thought she was laid up with grief,” River murmured, more to herself than anyone else.
Ryker stiffened beside her, his jaw tense. “She fucking was.”
“Then what—”
“I don’t know,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. “She was bedridden for days, River. By the Black Sands, she barely moved for days after Dad died.”
And yet she had time to make this happen.
“Did you know she was planning this?”
Ryker formed a fist. “No.”
“It doesn’t feel right.”
“It’s not.” Anger rolled off Ryker in waves, a reminder of the strength that churned beneath his skin. Not only was he River’s protective older brother, but he was also a captain in the army. A strong water fae in his own right. The Waterborn heir.
Tense silence swelled between them.
The longer River stood there, the more her stomach churned. She thought she might be sick, and wouldn’t that make this even worse?
Everyone would talk about how the Representative’s daughter made a fool of herself during her father’s memorial service. She wouldn’t be surprised if it made the news. River recognized a few guests who worked as reporters for various news outlets throughout the Republic.
Because of fucking course, Tertia was intent on turning this into a publicity stunt.
A waiter dressed in black walked by, and River grabbed a crystal flute off the tray. She didn’t bother to check the contents before she brought the glass to her lips and tipped it back.
The sparkling Faerie wine was pleasantly sweet as it hit her tongue. It fizzled as it slid down her throat, and she drank every last drop.
Another server walked by, and River exchanged her glass for a full one.
This one, River sipped slowly. Or as slowly as she could manage, considering the cuffs on her wrists, the grief in her heart, and the anger swirling in her veins.
Everything about this felt so completely wrong, like an ice storm in the middle of the desert. She could barely stand it.
The only bright side to how River felt right now, which admittedly wasn’t very bright at all, was that her disgust over Tertia’s actions had temporarily diverted her attention from the emptiness inside herself.
And that was good. Especially since Nikhail was here.
Even though the air fae was on the other side of the room, following her mother—why was he doing that?—she could feel the weight of his contemplative gaze. Sense his every movement.
There was a pull inside River that urged her to get closer to Nikhail, but since that meant getting closer to her mother, too, she resisted. She wasn’t sure she could be close to Tertia without screaming.
And that would be bad. Downright terrible, really.
If River caused a scene at her father’s memorial service, she would be confirming every dreadful thing her mother had ever said about her.
The musician’s bow traveled over the strings of his violin. River recognized the first few bars of a slow ballad she used to love.
Now, she’d forever associate it with this disastrous event.
“This is awful,” River murmured into her glass before taking another sip. “I hate this so much.” A larger sip. “All of it.”
The service.
Saying goodbye to her father.
The gold on the walls and the opulence surrounding them.
The fact that Nikhail was so close, yet so fucking far away.
Another swallow. More of a gulp, really.
The wine tasted better the more River drank. It was probably too early to be drinking so much, but she didn’t know how else to get through this.
River swayed as the alcohol hit her stomach. Her head spun. Were those two Rykers standing in front of her? Where in the gods’ name had Ryker come from?
“Whoa, Shortie. Take it easy.” Ryker held her elbow. No, there was only one of him. He was strong and sturdy as he wrapped his fingers around her, holding her up. Steadying her.
He was basically a tree, this brother of hers.
River giggled, then gasped. Mortification flooded through her a moment later. How could she make such a sound at her father’s memorial service?
Shame burned her insides, and her cheeks heated as she stared at the floor. She wasn’t wrong, though. Ryker had always been there for her, even during her darkest times. He was like the biggest, strongest tree in the forest. His roots were deep, and he was steadfast despite her storms.
Ryker would have never dishonored their father in such a fashion, throwing a party during what should’ve been a somber event. He was a future Representative, yes, but there was a world of difference between him and Tertia.
“No, I’d never be this callous,” Ryker said.
Oops.
River hadn’t realized she’d been speaking out loud. She peered into her cup, surprised to find it nearly empty.
Oh, well. Waste not, want not, and all that.
River tipped back the glass, finished the wine, and goodness. The gods must’ve taken pity on her because another server was standing in front of her.
She placed her glass on their tray and reached for another, but before she could take it, Ryker’s fingers curled around hers. He tugged her back.
Why was he doing that? Didn’t he understand that this was helping?
“I think that’s enough,” he said.
She pouted, trying to tug her hand out of his. Why was he so strong? “Let me go.”
“I’ll do no such thing. You need to eat something.”
Gods above, her brother was bossy. An oldest child through and through.
And he was wrong.
River hadn’t had enough. She still had to be here for at least another hour or two.
Only then would it be socially acceptable for her to call a cab and leave.
She couldn’t idly stand by and do nothing while time dragged on.
The drinks were helping soothe the hard edges of River’s anger and anxiety from being in such close proximity to her mother.
After all, even though Tertia was on the other side of the ballroom, River could still hear her voice. That high pitch she used exclusively for work had River’s spine stiffening and shivers running over her.
Ryker noticed, because of course, he did. He was always there for River, always paying attention to her. The only person who saw River more than him was Nikhail.
As if he knew she was thinking about him, River felt someone watching her. She looked up—too fast, probably, because her head pounded at the sudden movement—and sure enough, Nikhail was observing her from across the room.
Those amber eyes that River shouldn’t want but couldn’t seem to stay away from wavered, and that…
Oh.
Those were River’s legs that were wobbling. All of her was doing that, it seemed.
“Come on,” Ryker said, more lovingly than anything else. “Let’s get some food in you.”
River didn’t particularly feel like eating. She didn’t feel like arguing either, so she let her brother drag her to a server carrying a tray of canapés. Ryker took the tray and thanked the woman, who disappeared.
Had canapés always been tiny little nuggets of fancy food? Even though she wasn’t hungry, River’s mouth watered as she perused the tray.
Minuscule golden puff pastries brimming with cream cheese and topped with smoked salmon sat next to miniature sandwiches and spoons filled with caviar. They vanished in a single bite. The food did little to ease River’s queasiness, but it tasted good.
She ate two of everything, which seemed to appease Ryker. His shoulders relaxed, and he turned to speak with Brynleigh.
Well, he didn’t tell River to stay put. An oversight, probably. River wandered away, snagging another glass of Faerie wine. She studied it for a long moment and watched the bubbles rise to the top.
Then Tertia laughed.
Gods-damned fucking laughed.
The contrived sound was one River was used to hearing. Part of the carefully fabricated persona Tertia wore as the Representative of the Fae, it only came out when Tertia was working.
River didn’t care that it was false. How dare her mother further desecrate this day by laughing?
It would’ve hurt less if she’d spat on Cyrus’s portrait or scattered his ashes across the floor. River’s blood was fire in her veins. It burned hotter and hotter until it was scorching.
For once, River was grateful for the shackles binding her magic. If they weren’t present, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to control her storm and keep it at bay. Not while she was faced with a woman who would laugh at her own husband’s memorial service.
By the gods-damned Obsidian Sands, River hated her mother.
Hating the person who gave her life was probably wrong. And maybe someone else might feel bad about that. But Tertia had never shown River any warmth or affection, never been maternal at all.
Not only that, but this entire day felt like a mockery of everything River had ever held dear. Of the one parent she’d had who loved her and taught her what it meant to be a good person.