That training didn’t help right now.
“Some people are cold,” Brynleigh said softly, coming to stand beside Ryker. Her wings were out, mercifully blocking Tertia from River’s view. The vampire held a glass of blood wine, and the corner of her wing brushed River’s shoulder. “Ryker is right. Your mother loved your dad, in her own way.”
She supposed that could be possible. Perhaps thiswasTertia showing her love for her husband in the only way she knew how.
There was no doubt in River’s mind that Brynleigh and Ryker were right. There was something not whole about Tertia. She’d always been this way, for as long as River could remember.
Tertia rarely talked about her childhood. River didn’t know anything about her maternal grandparents, save for their names—Cordelia and Theodore—and the fact that they’d Faded a century before Ryker’s birth.
Was there something in Tertia’s past that had broken her? Or maybe…
Was she like River?
The thought was so horrific that River had never considered it. Her blood chilled in her veins, and for a very long moment, an eternity, really, she was frozen in place.
Was that it?
Was that the reason Tertia hated River? Was that the reason River had been deprived of maternal love and care?
It seemed so fucking simple that River could barely believe it.
If Tertia was broken because she was like River… If she, too, was cursed, then...
Oh, gods.
River’s fingers loosened around the empty glass. It was only because of Brynleigh’s vampiric speed that the flute didn’t shatter into a million pieces on the floor.
That didn’t seem to matter, though, because something inside River fractured all the same.
Cursed One.
It made sense. All of it did, in a dreadful, nauseating way that had River’s head spinning and her stomach churning. Bile rose in her throat, and she clamped a hand over her mouth.
“River?” Her brother’s voice was sharp with alarm, but it sounded like it came from down a tunnel. “What’s wrong?”
She couldn’t answer him. She couldn’t find the words to articulate the discovery she’d just stumbled upon. It made sense. Oh, gods, it made so much sense that River couldn’t believe she hadn’t realized it until now.
Her vision blurred, and she raced towards the exit.
The pounding of her heels was a drum in her ears. She knew she shouldn’t be moving so fast, that by running out of here, she was causing a scene, but she was too far gone to care.
River bolted through the doors, passing a startled waiter. Gilded doors passed in a blur until she found the women’s bathroom. She ran inside, ignoring the shocked faces around her, and dashed into the first empty stall.
She locked the door and fell to her knees. Holding her hair back with one hand, she dropped her clutch and hugged the porcelain with the other. She lost the contents of her stomach.
River heaved until there was nothing left within her, and still, she remained on her knees. She couldn’t move.
Cursed One, Cursed One, Cursed One.
Usually, the name cycled through her mind in her own voice, but right now, it was Tertia who was screaming it at her. That was fitting, in a way, since Tertia was the first one to call River cursed.
When had the name first been introduced? Had Tertia only started using it after the Incident, or had it preceded that terrible night?
A chill swept through River, as if she’d been dunked in the Black Sea. Could it be possible? Had Tertia been using the name before River’s magic came in?
She couldn’t remember. It felt like the moniker had belonged to River for her entire life. As if she’d always heard it and associated it with herself.
But maybe she was wrong….