She couldn’t let that happen. Not here.
Refusing to let the sorrow take hold, River downed this glass of wine, too. She took a few more canapés, more to appease Ryker than anything else, but they tasted like ash.
Her mother laughed again, and even though she hated herself for it, River sought Tertia out. How could she look away for long when her mother had positioned herself as the star of this farce of a funeral? Nikhail stood stiffly behind the Representative, his jaw clenched as he scanned the crowd.
Was he as bothered by Tertia’s behavior as she was?
River didn’t know, because even though the air fae kept looking at her, he hadn’t made a move to close the distance between them.
And that hurt.
Yours, Nikhail had said, but now there was a ballroom between them, and it felt like a chasm.
River wanted to cross the room and go to him. She would be safe in his arms, of that she was certain. He wouldn’t make her feel uncomfortable or out of sorts. Everything, including this, would be easier if she were by his side.
But she wasn’t.
River looked around for Ryker, but he was deep in conversation with a Representative from the Western Region. Brynleigh wasn’t far from his side, talking with a winged elf.
So River was alone. That was…
Definitely not fine.
She couldn’t even lie to herself.
River grabbed another glass of wine. This one was colder than the last, almost icy, but it slipped down her throat all the same.
She waited for Ryker to be alone before she walked back over to him. Forcing her feet to move in step with each other was surprisingly difficult. By the time she reached her brother’s side, she was woozy.
Ryker slung his arm around her, and she leaned against him. Absorbed his warmth.
Yes, she had been right earlier. Ryker was a tree, and a good one at that. Why weren’t there more people like him? People who others could depend on, no matter what.
“You know, I used to think Mom and Dad loved each other,” River admitted, peering into her glass. Empty, again. “I was sure of it when Dad was last awake. But this… Now… I don’t know.”
How could someone do this on the day meant to commemorate the loss of the person they adored? The one they had vowed to spend their life with, that they’d spent decades caring for.
Tertia had always dropped everything for Cyrus. She had been there when he was sick. She’d cared for him and kept him in Waterborn House because she had loved him….
Right?
“Mom and Dad did love each other,” Ryker said.
Fae couldn’t lie, which meant Ryker believed what he was saying. It was the truth, at least to him. But maybe Ryker had just fooled himself into believing Tertia was a better person than she actually was.
River tilted up her head to look at her brother. “Really?”
Even the cloud of alcohol couldn’t hide the doubt in her voice.
“I think so.” Ryker squeezed her shoulder. “I really do. I just think that Mom is…” He paused, seeming to consider his words. “She’s broken inside.”
River scoffed, gesturing to the party taking place around them. “You don’t say?”
“She is,” he insisted. “She just… doesn’t know how to grieve for him properly. Dad was her constant, even when he was sick. She relied on him. And I think that now that he’s gone, she doesn’t know how to feel the loss. This is how she’s coping.”
What happened to dealing with grief like a normal person?
The part of River that had gone through years of medical school, training for illness and death, knew that it wasn’t exactly fair to judge someone for how they chose to mourn. Every person was different, every loss of life unique in its own awful way.