“How?” she asked.
The way River’s storm had lashed out of her, ravaging everything in sight, she would’ve expected to wake up in a cell. That would’ve made sense. After all, she’d endangered countless people.
But this wasn’t that.
The room was small and sparsely furnished, but it wasn’t a prison. There was a single twin bed and the armchair Nikhail had been occupying, along with a coat rack. An open door led into a small bathroom. A folded blanket sat on top of a pillow near Nikhail’s chair, beside a laptop bag, but that was it.
There were no bars, no chains. Nothing keeping her locked in here.
Nikhail brushed his thumb across her cheek. “When I saw the storm, I knew it was yours. The wind shifted, then clouds rolled in.”
He kept talking. His low, steady voice was the only thing that kept her grounded as he explained what had happened.
The way the rain had hit out of nowhere. Therian, bringing him to her. How he’d seen her on the ground and raced for her, calling her name.
“I don’t remember any of that,” she confessed. “It just… hurts, Nik.”
The pain in her heart, her curse, her grief.
It all hurt, and River wasn’t sure she could survive this. The worst part was that River wasn’t sure how much of her was broken. She was afraid to count the shattered pieces of her heart.
“I know, River.” Nikhail ran his hand down her hair and held her to him. “I came for you, and the water was rising.”
“I was alone,” she murmured, remembering the way her magic had crashed through her veins.
Nikhail shuddered, but he didn’t dispute her claim. “I found you, and I… I didn’t want to do it, but I didn’t know how else to stop you.”
She struggled to keep up with what he was saying. “Do what?”
Nikhail reached for River’s left arm, slowly pushing up the sleeve of her baggy sweater. Her hands were paler than normal, her skin clinging to her bones, and on her wrist…
A black cuff circled her arm. River’s breath caught. With jerky movements, she tugged up her other sleeve. Another manacle.
Then, for the first time since she woke, River looked beyond the furniture in the sparse room. At the walls. The floor. The ceiling. They were all made of the same glistening black material.
Just like the cuffs.
Prohiberis.
“Oh,” she whispered. “That’s why I’m empty.”
CHAPTER 3
Lean on Me
Everyone in the Republic of Balance knew about prohiberis. The material had been used for thousands of years to block out magic, and it worked on nearly every species, except for dragon shifters.
River had first been taught about prohiberis when she was a young girl, and she’d learned more about it in medical school. These days, prohiberis was considered an outdated, last-ditch effort that should only be used to block magic in the rarest of circumstances. Studies had proven that being around the material long-term could be incredibly damaging to one’s body and mind.
River hadn’t needed to read the studies to know the material was dangerous. When she was twelve, she’d gone through what she lovingly called her “Four Kingdoms” phase. River had read about the High Ladies of Life and Death, and she knew all about how the Death Elf had been cut off from her magic for over two and a half centuries.
Historians agreed that the High Lady’s mind never truly recovered from the extensive exposure to prohiberis, even aftershe found her bonded mate. They lived a quiet, happy life, and they seemed to have found peace once the balance was restored.
By all accounts, the High Lady of Death had known joy, but even joy couldn’t erase the marks of what had been done to her.
Her mind, body, and soul bore permanent witness to the trials she’d endured. Joy couldn’t heal scars, couldn’t remove them completely, because some were too deep, and some had formed her into the person she’d become.
The prohiberis had contributed to her scars, to her pain.