She placed her glass on their tray and reached for another, but before she could take it, Ryker’s fingers curled around hers. He tugged her back.
Why was he doing that? Didn’t he understand that this was helping?
“I think that’s enough,” he said.
She pouted, trying to tug her hand out of his. Why was he so strong? “Let me go.”
“I’ll do no such thing. You need to eat something.”
Gods above, her brother was bossy. An oldest child through and through.
Andhe was wrong.
River hadn’t had enough. She still had to be here for at least another hour or two. Only then would it be socially acceptable for her to call a cab and leave. She couldn’t idly stand by and do nothing while time dragged on. The drinks were helping soothe the hard edges of River’s anger and anxiety from being in such close proximity to her mother.
After all, even though Tertia was on the other side of the ballroom, River could still hear her voice. That high pitch she used exclusively for work had River’s spine stiffening and shivers running over her.
Ryker noticed, because of course, he did. He was always there for River, always paying attention to her. The only person who saw River more than him was Nikhail.
As if he knew she was thinking about him, River felt someone watching her. She looked up—too fast, probably, because her head pounded at the sudden movement—and sure enough, Nikhail was observing her from across the room.
Those amber eyes that River shouldn’t want but couldn’t seem to stay away from wavered, and that…
Oh.
Those were River’s legs that were wobbling. All of her was doing that, it seemed.
“Come on,” Ryker said, more lovingly than anything else. “Let’s get some food in you.”
River didn’t particularly feel like eating. She didn’t feel like arguing either, so she let her brother drag her to a server carrying a tray of canapés. Ryker took the tray and thanked the woman, who disappeared.
Had canapés always been tiny little nuggets of fancy food? Even though she wasn’t hungry, River’s mouth watered as she perused the tray.
Minuscule golden puff pastries brimming with cream cheese and topped with smoked salmon sat next to miniature sandwiches and spoons filled with caviar. They vanished in a single bite. The food did little to ease River’s queasiness, but it tasted good.
She ate two of everything, which seemed to appease Ryker. His shoulders relaxed, and he turned to speak with Brynleigh.
Well, he didn’ttellRiver to stay put. An oversight, probably. River wandered away, snagging another glass of Faerie wine. She studied it for a long moment and watched the bubbles rise to the top.
Then Tertia laughed.
Gods-damned fuckinglaughed.
The contrived sound was one River was used to hearing. Part of the carefully fabricated persona Tertia wore as the Representative of the Fae, it only came out when Tertia was working.
River didn’t care that it was false. How dare her mother further desecrate this day bylaughing?
It would’ve hurt less if she’d spat on Cyrus’s portrait or scattered his ashes across the floor. River’s blood was fire in her veins. It burned hotter and hotter until it was scorching.
For once, River was grateful for the shackles binding her magic. If they weren’t present, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to control her storm and keep it at bay. Not while she was faced with a woman who would laugh at her own husband’s memorial service.
By the gods-damned Obsidian Sands, River hated her mother.
Hating the person who gave her life was probably wrong. And maybe someone else might feel bad about that. But Tertia had never shown River any warmth or affection, never been maternal at all.
Not only that, but this entire day felt like a mockery of everything River had ever held dear. Of the one parent she’d had who loved her and taught her what it meant to be a good person.
At the thought of her father, grief lapped at the fringes of River’s consciousness. Threatened to drown her. All it would take was one strong wave, and she’d go down.