When Grandma Bobbie had Faded, the whole building mourned her. They threw her their own memorial service, and the whole community had attended, even those who weren’t fae.
The memorial had been full of life and love. Laughter, even.
Grandma Bobbie had been loved and respected, a cherished member of their community. Nikhail’s mother had wept at the news of her passing. People had talked for hours at the service, exchanging stories of their favorite moments with the elderly woman.
This memorial was nothing like that one.
Sadness permeated the space. It was in the air, but also in every movement. The ballroom was packed, but there was no laughter. No smiles. Just a reminder that death had stolen a beloved member of the Waterborn family.
The space itself was cold and lifeless, and it made Nikhail’s gut twist. The amount of gold on the walls alone could feed a community for a year. Nikhail had never met Cyrus Waterborn, and he didn’t know much about him other than what Ryker had shared over the years, but just from knowing his children, he knew that this wasn’t what the man would’ve wanted.
Eventually, Tertia pulled away from Ryker. She patted his cheek in a condescending way that only mothers seemed capable of achieving.
“You look like your father,” she said with a watery smile. A hint of warmth existed in her voice that hadn’t been present before. “He would be so proud of you.”
Ryker blinked several times, and when he spoke, his voice was gruffer than before. “Thanks, Mom. That means a lot to me.”
“Of course,” she replied, sounding once more like the cold Representative Nikhail knew her to be. Tertia moved towards Brynleigh. “You came.”
“I did.” The vampire didn’t cower in the face of the Representative’s coldness. She looked at Ryker, then at Cyrus’s picture. “Your husband meant a lot to mine, and he was kind to me. What kind of wife and daughter-in-law would I be if I didn’t come? Besides, Cyrus was a good man. The world will be worse off without him.”
Tertia tilted her head, studying Brynleigh for a long moment before she dipped her chin. “Yes. It will be.”
Then, Tertia turned to River. She took a step closer to her daughter, and Nikhail’s hackles rose. He felt like he was dancing on the tip of a sword, waiting for something to go wrong.
The two water fae were similar in height and coloring. Both Tertia and River wore heels and black mourning clothes. But that was where the similarities between them ended.
Even broken-hearted, River was wild and enchanting and full of life. Tertia was made of cold, hard edges. Of ice and darkness.
Tertia canted her head, studying her daughter as a lion would study a lamb.
“Hello, Mother,” River said quietly, seeming to wilt in on herself the longer Tertia stared at her.
Wrong.
This was fuckingwrong.
The woman Nikhail knew—the one that he was quickly losing his heart to—was fierce and strong and a gods-damned force of nature.
Or at least, that’s who she was when she wasn’t around Tertia.
Right now, she looked like a branch that could snap from a strong gust of wind.
“Daughter,” Tertia replied.
Nikhail had been in blizzards that were warmer than the Representative’s voice.
Tension strummed as seconds ticked by. Mother and daughter regarded each other, the space between them as wide as a canyon. Even though the onlookers pretended not to watch, there was no disguising the way they were not-so-discretely watching the women.
“I came to say goodbye to Dad,” River offered after a minute.
Her eyes welled with tears as she looked back at the urn. Silver streaked down her cheeks. Each droplet that fell was a dagger, piercing Nikhail’s heart. He ground his jaw.
Thank all the gods, even though Nikhail couldn’t go to River, Ryker noticed her pain. He put his arm over River’s shoulders and drew her close to him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and murmured something low, just for her.
While Ryker was every bit a loving brother, Tertia didn’t react to her daughter’s tears at all.
As if Nikhail needed another reason to hate the Representative.