Even breathing was a chore, which was a problem since it was an integral part of living. Focusing on her lungs, River could hear Nikhail’s voice in her mind, coaching her through her breaths.
In and out.
Again and again.
She stayed in bed, staring at the speckled ceiling and focusing on her breaths, until a knock came on the door.
“You up, River?”
The concern in Ryker’s voice twisted River’s insides.
She needed to reply, to get her thoughts in order and force her mouth to move, but forming words seemed like an arduous, formidable task.
Eventually, she was able to croak, “Yes.”
The door slipped open, and Ryker leaned against the doorframe. Clean-shaven and dressed in a crisp black suit, he was exactly how River imagined a future Representative in mourning would be.
He walked over to the bed and perched on the edge. His eyes were pools of grief that mirrored the agony in River’s soul. “We’re going to get through this, River.”
She stared at him bleakly. “Are we?”
Right now, it didn’t feel like it.
“Yes.” He took her hand and held it. “Today will be hard. Tomorrow might be, too. But we’re going to make it, Shortie. We’re going to live and find joy because that’s what Dad would want.”
River’s heart cracked. She thought it had already broken the day she learned of her father’s death, but apparently, there were still intact pieces inside her. Waiting to break.
That was a gods-damned awful realization.
What good was a heart if it kept breaking into smaller pieces? It would be better if it were made of stone. Unbreakable. Unyielding.
Perhaps then, everything wouldn’t feel so desolate.
“I miss him,” she admitted, holding back tears. If she started crying now, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle what was coming next. “So fucking much.”
River thought she already understood what it would be like not to have a father. That she’d already figured out how to navigate life without Cyrus.
After all, the Stillness had stolen the Waterborn patriarch years ago. She’d felt the sting of not having an attentive parentcountless times over the years. School events had always passed without fanfare—Tertia was always too busy to make time for that. River’s graduation from Highmountain’s School for Young Fae had been a tired, quiet affair. Ryker had taken her for dinner.
Then the Incident took place. Things like dances and dates and proms were overshadowed by River’s struggle to keep her curse under control.
River had done all these things without Cyrus. So she should, theoretically, be able to live without him. And yet, it felt impossibly difficult.
“Gods, River. So do I.” A pained groan rumbled through Ryker, and his arms wrapped around her, squeezing her. The comforter squished between them. Her cheek pressed against his chest, and he rested his head on hers. “It’s okay to miss him. I think it would be stranger if we didn’t.”
River choked on a sob and clung to her brother. Once again, he was there for her. A grounding force, despite everything else.
At least they had each other. River didn’t know what she’d do without Ryker. He’d been her rock for as long as she could remember.
When she felt like she could breathe again, she pulled back, assessing herself. Dear gods. She was a mess, not fit to leave the room, let alone the house.
Ryker had been polite by not mentioning River’s current state earlier, but she couldn’t ignore it any longer.
She asked, “What time are we planning to leave?”
To say goodbye one last time.
The fissure in her chest widened.