Pinching her lips together, Tertia slid her fingers over Cyrus’s eyes, closing his lids. Her hand rested on his cheek for a long moment, and she sucked in a sharp breath.
“I’m sorry, River.” And gods help her, but it sounded like she was telling the truth. Like she meant it. Like Tertia was actually sorry, like she really did care that this… that Cyrus was….
River’s fingers tightened on the doorframe, and wood cracked beneath her fingers. “When?”
It was the only word that she could say, the only word that could make it past her lips.
When did this happen? When did he…
Die.
The word hovered on the tip of River’s tongue, swirling around in her brain, but she couldn’t say it. If she did, if she acknowledged what she saw, what her medically trained brain already understood, it would mean that the only parent who loved her was gone, and she hadn’t even been here to say goodbye.
Her knees trembled, and she clutched the doorframe, trying to stay upright.
Oh, gods. She’d been with Nikhail, having the best night of her life, while her fatherdied.
Had he suffered when the Stillness swept over him one final time, stealing his ability to live? Had he been awake and wondered where she was? Had he looked for his daughter in those final moments?
River had so many questions, and each one was worse than the last.
Tertia sucked in a breath, and the sound was like shattered glass. “An hour ago. I tried to call you.” But River had let it go to voicemail. “I called your brother, and he’s coming back, but…”
It was too late, because Cyrus was dead. He was dead, and River hadn’t been here.
A hand landed on River’s shoulder, and she spun around. Megan, her father’s nurse, was clutching her clipboard to her chest. Tears streaked down the nurse’s face, and she looked at River with pity.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Doctor Waterborn.”
River had said those words dozens of times.Sorry for your loss. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but your loved one has passed away. I’ll say a prayer to Dyna for you.
Sorry, sorry, sorry.
But now…
Now the phrase took on an entirely new meaning. Megan didn’t have anything to be sorry for. She’d just been doing her job.
The nurse was in the clear.
River, on the other hand…
She shouldn’t have left. She should’ve stayed by Cyrus’s side all night long. Hadn’t she known? Hadn’t she felt like something was off for weeks? Ever since Mrs. Valois’s death, she’d been worried about her father.
And the one time she let herself go with Nikhail, the one time she had a night just for herself…
A roaring filled River’s ears, and it took several moments for her to realize that it was coming from within her. The peace from earlier was gone. Maybe it had never been there.
Her magic was no longer quiet, no longer slumbering. Now it was a powerful hurricane, thrashing against her will.
And she…
She had nothing left. She couldn’t stop it any more than she could bring her father back from death’s cold embrace.
A sob wrenched its way out of River’s throat as she turned and raced down the hallway. No one stopped her. At some point, she kicked off her heels. She ran down the hardwood floors in bare feet, the roaring never stopping, never letting up.
She half-raced, half-slid down the steps to the main floor, running, running, running.
“I’m sorry, Doctor Waterborn.”