Chapter 10 Maybe It Won’t Be So Bad
Maybe It Won’t Be So Bad
Ice-cold dread, like rain on the darkest winter’s night, sluiced through River’s veins when she woke up the next morning. Opening her eyes took tremendous effort. A load of bricks was pressing down on her chest, driving her into the mattress.
The room was the same as it had been yesterday, but the colors were muted.
Everything felt like too much.
Moving.
Thinking.
Even breathing was a chore, which was a problem since it was an integral part of living. Focusing on her lungs, River could hear Nikhail’s voice in her mind, coaching her through her breaths.
In and out.
Again and again.
She stayed in bed, staring at the speckled ceiling and focusing on her breaths, until a knock came on the door.
“You up, River?”
The concern in Ryker’s voice twisted River’s insides.
She needed to reply, to get her thoughts in order and force her mouth to move, but forming words seemed like an arduous, formidable task.
Eventually, she was able to croak, “Yes.”
The door slipped open, and Ryker leaned against the doorframe. Clean-shaven and dressed in a crisp black suit, he was exactly how River imagined a future Representative in mourning would be.
He walked over to the bed and perched on the edge. His eyes were pools of grief that mirrored the agony in River’s soul. “We’re going to get through this, River.”
She stared at him bleakly. “Are we?”
Right now, it didn’t feel like it.
“Yes.” He took her hand and held it. “Today will be hard. Tomorrow might be, too. But we’re going to make it, Shortie. We’re going to live and find joy because that’s what Dad would want.”
River’s heart cracked. She thought it had already broken the day she learned of her father’s death, but apparently, there were still intact pieces inside her. Waiting to break.
That was a gods-damned awful realization.
What good was a heart if it kept breaking into smaller pieces? It would be better if it were made of stone. Unbreakable. Unyielding.
Perhaps then, everything wouldn’t feel so desolate.
“I miss him,” she admitted, holding back tears. If she started crying now, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle what was coming next. “So fucking much.”
River thought she already understood what it would be like not to have a father. That she’d already figured out how to navigate life without Cyrus.
After all, the Stillness had stolen the Waterborn patriarch years ago.
She’d felt the sting of not having an attentive parent countless times over the years.
School events had always passed without fanfare—Tertia was always too busy to make time for that.
River’s graduation from Highmountain’s School for Young Fae had been a tired, quiet affair. Ryker had taken her for dinner.
Then the Incident took place. Things like dances and dates and proms were overshadowed by River’s struggle to keep her curse under control.
River had done all these things without Cyrus. So she should, theoretically, be able to live without him. And yet, it felt impossibly difficult.
“Gods, River. So do I.” A pained groan rumbled through Ryker, and his arms wrapped around her, squeezing her. The comforter squished between them. Her cheek pressed against his chest, and he rested his head on hers. “It’s okay to miss him. I think it would be stranger if we didn’t.”
River choked on a sob and clung to her brother. Once again, he was there for her. A grounding force, despite everything else.
At least they had each other. River didn’t know what she’d do without Ryker. He’d been her rock for as long as she could remember.
When she felt like she could breathe again, she pulled back, assessing herself. Dear gods. She was a mess, not fit to leave the room, let alone the house.
Ryker had been polite by not mentioning River’s current state earlier, but she couldn’t ignore it any longer.
She asked, “What time are we planning to leave?”
To say goodbye one last time.
The fissure in her chest widened.
Ryker glanced at the clock. “In just over an hour. Is that enough time?”
River chewed on her lip. “It’ll have to be.”
Even if she had to drag herself through every step, she’d make herself presentable. After all, this was for her father.
After another hug, Ryker left. River slid out from under the covers, the air biting her skin, and she plodded to the bathroom and stepped into the shower.
She washed quickly, but that didn’t stop goose bumps from pebbling on her skin.
She was shivering by the time she got out and wrapped herself in a towel.
A fog settled over River as she went through her routine. She straightened her hair, applied her makeup, and placed a pair of plain black pumps by the door.
Then, when she could put it off no longer, she turned to the wardrobe, took a deep, grounding breath, and counted backwards from ten.
You are a doctor, River reminded herself. You’ve held lives in your hands. You are powerful and strong. You can do this.
Even the prohiberis cuffs couldn’t completely silence the remnants of power running through River’s veins. She was a storm, and she should be able to handle this. After all, it was one day. One afternoon.
But she didn’t feel strong or ready for this at all. Not a text from Nikhail, a simple “I’m thinking of you today,” which had come in at five this morning, was enough to give her strength to tackle this.
She didn’t think there were enough mantras, pep talks, or positive affirmations in the world to make this any easier. But she didn’t have time to fall apart.
River’s hands trembled at her sides as she took wobbly steps towards the wardrobe. There was a thundering in her chest that echoed in her ears as she opened the door.
Hanging in front of her was a simple black dress. It had long, sheer sleeves, a square neckline, and a slight flare at the waist.
The worst part of the dress wasn’t the lack of color, but the fact that it had been hanging in River’s closet for years, untouched. She’d bought it with a singular purpose in mind, knowing that she would only wear it once.
River swallowed down a sob and reached for the dress, removing it from the hanger. The fact that it was here meant that someone, probably Brynleigh, had retrieved it from Waterborn House.
Once again, Brynleigh was proving her thoughtfulness. It meant a lot, since River wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready to go back to her childhood home. It contained too many memories, too much pain.
River slid the dress over her head, hating the way the fabric felt against her before reaching behind her back to do up the zipper.
The hemline settled just above her knees, and the dress was snug around her bust. Not too tight, but a gentle compression.
A hug, almost. One that she desperately needed.
Sliding her feet into her pumps, River moved to the full-length mirror hanging on the back of the bedroom door.
She barely recognized the woman looking back at her.
Her face was paler than normal, the gold studs in her pointed ears shockingly bright against the expanse of her skin.
Red rimmed her eyes, even though she hadn’t wept today.
Her sleeves reached her fingers, the black silk partially obscuring the manacles.
To the untrained eye, they might appear like an interesting fashion choice, nothing more, but River knew the truth.
She could feel it in her bones. Even if the prohiberis cuffs had been weightless, she’d never forget what they signified.
Her failure.
This wasn’t the time to think about that or her curse, though. She had a memorial service to attend and a father to pay her final respects to.
With one last look in the mirror, River left her room. She took the stairs one at a time. The mood was somber, the air as heavy as her soul.
Brynleigh was standing at the island, wearing a black dress that fell just below her knees, and she turned as River approached. A compassionate smile tugged at her lips.
She handed River a buttered piece of toast. “I didn’t know if you’d be hungry, but I thought this might help.”
River eyed the offering. She wasn’t hungry, and she hadn’t been for days.
Honestly, she could barely remember what it felt like to crave food.
But having undergone years of medical training, her brain understood the importance of nutrition.
Unable to ignore that part of herself, River accepted the meager breakfast with a soft smile of her own.
The toast was tasteless, but she dutifully ate it.
After Ryker came downstairs, they filed into the car.
Ryker drove, and Brynleigh sat beside him in the front seat.
River took the back, pressing her face against the glass and watching the snowy landscape pass in a blur.
Forests gave way to subdivisions, and before River knew it, they were driving down a busy city street.
“Where is the memorial taking place?” River asked, her voice seeming to boom in the quiet car.
She hadn’t even asked. It was something she should’ve known—something a good daughter would’ve known. She should’ve been the one to organize this. Instead, she’d lost control, and the duties had fallen onto others.
Even more proof of her brokenness.
Ryker’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel, he drew up his shoulders, and the air thickened. The air pulsed, thick and heavy, as he regarded River through the rearview mirror.
“Mom wanted…” Ryker cleared his throat. “She thought it would be good to have the service take place somewhere where everyone could come and pay their respects.”
There was something about his tone that had alarm bells ringing in River’s mind. She sat up straighter and leaned forward. “What does that mean?”
The tick-tick-tick of the signal filled the car as he took a left turn, and a long moment passed in silence.
Ryker gritted his jaw. “It means we’re going to The Lily.”
River blinked. “For the memorial?”
One of the fanciest hotels in the Republic, the building was the picture of wealth. It was usually the location for elaborate fundraising dinners, parties, and holiday celebrations.
Not… this.
A terse nod.
River’s mouth dried. “That’s…”
“A choice,” Brynleigh said, speaking for the first time since they left the farmhouse. She looked over her shoulder and met River’s gaze. “One that neither of you made.”
River ground her teeth and stared out the window. For a moment, the heaviness lifted, replaced with a bitter anger that swirled in her stomach.
She was angry at her mother for making this decision. Angry at the Stillness for taking her father. But also, she was angry at herself for not asking these questions earlier.
“This isn’t going to go well,” River predicted.
“Probably not.” Ryker peered at her through the rearview mirror. “But it’s for Dad. Not us.”
“You’re right.”
For her father, River could do this. She would do this.
River looked down, straightening the hem of her dress. The awful fabric seemed to suck in the light, a reminder of their purpose today.
That made her angry, too.
Soon, The Lily loomed ahead of them. A study of gold, it was even more extravagant than she remembered. The last time River had been here had been right after the attack on the Choosing, the night Ryker had proposed to Brynleigh.
Of course, this was where Tertia had chosen to host the memorial.
It was what she wanted, but River didn’t think it reflected her father at all.
She was fairly certain that Cyrus would’ve been happy with a memorial outside of Waterborn House.
A quiet service attended by his children, wife, and a few close friends.
Clearly, the Representative had other plans.
Any hope that River had of this ceremony being a quiet, family affair dissipated as Ryker drove into the underground parking garage.
They were surrounded by vehicles that even the wealthiest citizens of the Republic would consider expensive.
They made Ryker’s sensible black SUV look like it was moments away from falling apart.
They sat in silence inside the vehicle for a moment before Ryker unbuckled his seat belt. “We should go,” he said, sounding like he’d rather be anywhere else.
Brynleigh shrugged. “Maybe it won’t be so bad?”
River glanced at her brother, who frowned.
“Maybe,” she said weakly. But she didn’t think so.
The air was chilly as River got out of the car, and she rubbed her arms as they left the dim space behind. No one spoke as they took the elevator to the fifteenth floor, where the Grand Ballroom was located.
A crease formed between Ryker’s brows, and he grimaced as the elevator doors opened. They exited into a darkened corridor lined with vampire-safe windows. The steady hum of conversation drifted towards them. A sign pointed them towards the Grand Ballroom on the left, and they travelled toward it.
Large, double doors loomed.
“Ready?” Ryker asked, his hand on the door.
No.
She would never be ready. Not for this.
But River was here. And she would be courageous. For her father, she wouldn’t turn and run away.
“Let’s get this over with,” she said.
Ryker peered over his shoulder and nodded. He pushed down the handle and opened the door, unveiling the space Tertia had reserved for the memorial service.
The married couple stepped inside, but River…
She was frozen.
Two things struck her at the exact same time.
One: She would never, ever forgive her mother. Not for this. This should’ve been a family event, a quiet one.
Not a spectacle.
Yet, that’s exactly what this was.
Tertia was in the middle of the room, seated on a gilded chair. It was essentially a throne, and people were lined up in front of her, approaching her and offering their condolences as she dabbed a handkerchief at dry cheeks.
And two: A very familiar amber gaze met River’s from across the ballroom.
“Nik,” she breathed, his name easing out of her before she could stop it.
What was he doing here?