And now, River was wearing it.
River was aware, in an academic, detached way, that she was focusing on the prohiberis to fend off thoughts about her father’s death. She could feel that grief inside her, prodding at the edges of her mind, but she was numb. Cold.
She was afraid of what would happen when she started feeling that pain again, but it was a problem for a later time.
One when she wasn’t in a room made of prohiberis.
Besides, there was something else River needed to address. Prohiberis worked best if a person was in contact with it, but merely being around the mineral for a prolonged period would cut off one’s access to magic. There were specialty government buildings made out of prohiberis. Prisons, too, but they were used sparingly because of their effects.
However, Nikhail was here with her. And if he’d been here the whole time since her father’s death, then…
River’s heart felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. She slowly dragged her gaze to Nikhail’s, where concern swam in his amber orbs.
“You’re empty, too.”
The air fae didn’t ask for clarification. He simply nodded—confirmation of what River had already figured out.
“Nik, you can’t… You shouldn’t be here.” River shoved at his shoulders, trying to get him to move. He had to leave and get out of this place. It was stealing his magic.
How could he stand this? How could he be sitting here so casually when a vital part of him had been stripped away?
“You need your magic,” she cried. “It’s a part of you.”
Nikhail had always been in tune with the elements, even more than most fae. She’d seen him use his magic to speak to the wind. He wielded his power like a well-formed blade. It was a part of him, a natural extension of who he was.
One that he’d cut off to be with her.
River shoved at Nikhail’s shoulders, but he ignored her, gathering her against him and brushing his lips across her forehead. “That doesn’t matter.”
She struggled, trying to shimmy out of Nikhail’s hold. The air fae’s arms were made of steel, though, and she couldn’t make him budge.
“It does,” River insisted, her voice cracking. “By the Black Sands, itdoesmatter.”
It mattered almost as much as the grief she was ignoring and the emptiness trying to consume her.
His grip tightened. “No, it doesn’t.”
“You have to go.” She was being stubborn; she knew it, yet she couldn’t stop the words from coming out of her mouth.
How could he give up his magic, even temporarily, for her?
“No,” he said firmly. “You needed me, so I came.”
As if it was that simple.
“But your magic?—”
He shook his head. “It’s not more important than you. I couldn’t leave you here, alone.”
“But—”
“You wouldn’t wake up.” His voice was firm, and something that sounded an awful lot like fear tinged his words. “Dayspassed, and you were still asleep. There was no way I would abandon you here. My magic is a small price to pay to remain by your side.”
His words rang with truth, a sincerity that couldn’t be faked. As if he truly did not care that he was magicless, because he was with her.
“Okay,” she said after a long moment. “Thank you, Nik. I never would’ve woken up without you.”
The emptiness would’ve devoured her without the call of his voice.