The unspoken words echoed through her mind.
“River—”
“I spent months studying for this surgery, Nik.” Scrubbing a hand over her face, she once again wished she could go back in time and fix all of this. “I looked at all the angles, all the ways it could go wrong, and prepped for every single scenario. I wasready. If they’d let me be there, I could’ve saved Lila from death’s clutches.”
She pulled back her hand and shuddered. “If I’d been better, if I’d been earlier, I could’ve stopped this.”
She could’ve held death at bay.
The problem was that River was exceedingly familiar with death in a way that most people weren’t. For most people, it was a visitor. It came to them a few times in their life, taking their loved ones away.
But River was different.
She’d known death intimately for nearly a decade. It was her unwanted companion, and it never left her side. With each pulse of her curse, each wave of magic that rolled through her veins, she was reminded that death’s cold arms remained nearby.
Many species called the Republic of Balance their home, and most of them were blessed with magic, save humans and those born Without.
A large number of gifts given to magic-wielders were inherently geared towards life. Earth Elves, Light Elves, witches, and shifters all had blessings that encouraged life to flourish.
That was the same for most fae. Fire, water, earth, and air fae all got their magic from the land. It was inherently balanced…
Or at least, it was supposed to be.
River’s magic didn’t work like that. It was different. Out-of-balance. She’d known this to be true from the moment her magic first revealed itself.
She was a water fae, like the rest of her family, but her power had a dark edge. It was cold, like raging waters during a frigid winter storm. Bitter and biting, lacking all sense of warmth.
And on that pivotal, horrendous night nearly a decade ago, when River had only been two years older than Lila, her magichad flooded out of her. The never-ending tempest had ravaged the land, and death had been there. Waiting. Eager to collect the souls she provided it.
Not just one or two. Not even a dozen.
That wretched night, thousands of souls had entered death’s embrace because of River. She had accidentally unleashed her curse on helpless humans, and even though Ryker had shown up to help her reel in the storm, it had been too late.
Some people ushered in life, but not River.
She was a bringer of death, and darkness was ingrained in her very being. Even though she’d fought against and run from her fate for nearly a decade, last night had proven that she would never be fast enough. She would never escape death. Not really.
Cursed, indeed.
Nikhail’s hand lifted off River’s knee, but before she could mourn its departure, the mattress dipped. He pressed a tissue into her hands, which she brought to her cheeks.
Damp.
She hadn’t even realized she was crying, yet the comforter was a dark green beneath her.
An arm wrapped around her. Anchoring her.
River blotted her cheeks with the tissue, sniffling as her back met Nikhail’s warm chest. He tugged her until their legs lined up—his above the covers, hers beneath them. He rested his chin on her head, the movement so natural that, for a moment, she almost forgot that this was all they could ever be. Friends, nothing more.
That was how it had always been, and that was how it would always be.
For the longest moment, neither of them spoke. The logsin the hearth crackled, and Nikhail’s scent swirled around her, calming her in a way she still wasn’t prepared to address. She tried to pull away from him, tried to remind herself that this was wrong, and she needed to stay away from him to keep him safe, but she couldn’t make herself move.
Not yet, that soul-deep yearning within her pleaded.Just a few more minutes.
River must’ve still been weak after releasing so much magic last night because she relented. She remained by Nikhail’s side, letting his touch seep into her.
“The winds whisper to me,” Nikhail murmured after several moments had passed.