On and on the solo drumbeat went as her eyes drilled into him.
Ryker knew better than to speak before his mother. He’d learned manners when most children were learning their primary colors.
Long, drawn-out minutes passed before Tertia deigned to speak again. Every breath was an entire percussion section in Ryker’s ears.
“This afternoon, I was at the Crystal Garden having lunch with Representative Havill.” She raised a brow. “It was important, Ryker.”
Everything Tertia did was important, at least from her perspective.
Ryker didn’t respond. She hadn’t given him leave yet.
“I had just ordered my salad when suddenly, I received the most disturbing phone call.” Her words were clipped, and the drumming ceased. “Do you know what I was told?”
He wished he didn’t, but he could guess. It seemed his time of avoiding his family and the press was coming to an end.
Sighing, he kneaded his temples. “Mother, I can explain?—”
“You will not,” she snapped. “Not over the phone.”
Tertia’s voice remained at the same decibel, but it felt like she was screaming at him. Each word was an ice pick in his ear.
He didn’t have the energy to fight with her. Not now, after the day he’d had. His head throbbed, and he groaned, waiting for his mother to continue.
“I warned you, Ryker,” she said icily.
As if Ryker could forget his mother’s “warning.” She’d gone after Brynleigh and decided that since the vampire had no lineage, proper education, or finances, Ryker had Chosen poorly. Ryker had defended his then-fiance, but now…
Now, it turned out the truth was so much worse than that.
“I know,” he replied tersely.
His mother scoffed, and her voice chilled impossibly further. “I told you the bloodsucker wasn’t the right match for you. I warned you this would happen. But you did not heed my warning and married her anyway.”
The wedding band on Ryker’s left hand was heavy, emphasizing his mother’s point.
“You made a foolish Choice, and it will have far more repercussions than you know,” Tertia admonished.
Ryker narrowed his eyes.
Was she threatening him?
Hot anger churned and bubbled like lava in his veins. He was a Mature fae, and his position should afford him at least a modicum of respect.
Unfortunately for him, his mother seemed hell-bent on making his day even worse.
“Do you know what I hate more than vampires who don’t know their places?” Her searing gaze was one of intense displeasure, and he fought the urge to squirm. “Surprises.”
A stone lodged itself in his stomach. Never mind that he was well into his third decade of life. His mother was scolding him like he was a misbehaving child.
He knew exactly how this would go.
Tertia would go on and on and on about how Waterborns were supposed to be perfect. They weren’t allowed to have problems. They weren’t allowed to disrupt the natural way of life in the Republic of Balance.
Waterborns weren’t allowed to fuckinglive.
Ryker balled his fist, careful to keep it out of sight of the camera. “Mother, I would have told you?—”
“I do not recall granting you permission to speak,” she snapped.