Thearrangements.
There were things that had to be done when people died. Affairs to be tidied. People to notify. Funeral services to organize. So many steps to take, so many things to do, and River hadn’t been there. She hadn’t been present at all.
She’d failed Ryker in a time of need, all because of her curse.
The crushing emptiness was back, more cumbersome than ever. The city lights seemed dimmer. The moon’s luster, fainter. The stars, less brilliant.
Everything darkened, a reminder of howcursedRiver truly was.
More tears flowed down her cheeks. How was it possible that there was still liquid in her body? She wept for herself, but also for Ryker. For the things they could’ve done with their father if the Stillness hadn’t stolen him away. For the lives they could’ve lived.
River wept until she ran out of tears. Until the emptiness in her soul matched the one in her chest, where her magic shouldbe. Until she was limp and heavy, and her brother’s arms were the only things holding her up.
Only then did Ryker pull back. He drew himself out of River’s hold long enough to pull up her sleeve. She didn’t stop him. Couldn’t, honestly.
A crease formed between Ryker’s brows, and a vein in his jaw pulsed.
“River.” There was a hardness in her brother’s voice that she rarely heard directed towards her. “Why are you wearing these?” He looked over her shoulder, as if remembering that Nikhail was there. “Why are these still on her?”
River’s heart sank, and silence descended. For the longest moment, no one spoke. The city sounds seemed quieter. Even the wind ceased blowing. It was as if the world was waiting to hear the response to Ryker’s question.
“I tried, Ryker,” Nikhail said, approaching them. “But the guards were pushing back, and then River said?—”
“I need to keep them on.” River was surprised that her voice didn’t break, that she was able to stay strong despite the growing emptiness inside her. She met her brother’s gaze. “It’s not Nik’s fault, Ryker. Don’t blame him. I’m the one who refused to take them off.”
His lips thinned.
“Please, don’t make me take them off,” she repeated.
She wasn’t sure what she’d do if he asked her to remove the cuffs.
Ryker, for all his wonderfulness and all the ways he’d always looked after her, didn’t understand the extent of her curse or the power that ran through her veins. He couldn’t. Only someone who bore the weight of a curse such as hers could truly understand how difficult it was.
He shook his head slowly, his face grim. “I don’t like this, River.”
“I didn’t ask for nor do I need your approval,” she replied softly.
Ryker took a step back and scrubbed a hand over his face. “You’re wearing those like some kind of criminal who can’t control themselves.” He balled his fists. “It isn’t right.”
Wasn’t it?
She reached out and touched his arm. “Ryker,” she breathed. “Iama criminal.”
“No,” he protested.
“Yes.” This time, her voice was hard and unyielding. “Although no one died this time, that hasn’t always been the case.”
River would always be a murderer. Her soul would be forever stained by the lives she’d taken, and she would bear their weight throughout eternity. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t served time for her crimes, nor did it matter that Ryker and their mother had covered up River’s involvement in the flood.
She would never forget what she’d done or the lives she’d cut short. Such was her burden.
Ryker must’ve seen that on her face because he didn’t push her further. Levelling a sigh that held the weight of the world, he dropped her sleeve, pulled her in for another hug, and held her close.
Because even now, even after being reminded of all the ways River was cursed and broken, he loved her.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before her brother shifted. He rested his chin on the top of her head.
“Thank you for staying with her,” Ryker said, the low rumble of his voice warming something deep inside River. “You’re a great friend.”