Nikhail didn’t hesitate. He reached up and tugged her lip free, rubbing his thumb along it. River inhaled, and their gazes locked. He could lose himself in this, in her. Worlds were contained in her eyes. Storms. But also… pain. Grief and agony swirled in the depths of those beautiful orbs, and his heart ached at the sight.
If Nikhail could, he would remove everything that was hurting River. Shield her from agony and torment and protect her from dangers large and small.
Doing so would be his honor.
“What happened, little storm?” he asked again. “You can tell me.”
River blinked slowly, twisting her fingers in her lap. Her gaze shuttered, and when it met his again, the light in it had dimmed. Not by much—someone else might not have noticed—but Nikhail saw it, and his heart knotted.
“I just… realized something,” she whispered.
“What?”
River licked her lips. “My mother... She…”
Her voice trailed off, and a growl rumbled through Nikhail’s chest. He couldn’t help it. It didn’t matter that Tertia Waterborn was a government official or that he was temporarily on her protection detail; he hated the Representative for the way she made her daughter feel.
“What did she do?” His voice was rough, but he didn’t care.
“She didn’t reallydoanything,” River said after a moment.
“Then what is it?” Whatever the problem was, if it was within his power to fix it, he would.
He was finding that he would do anything for River.
His water fae twisted, her knee brushing his. Facing the window, she placed a palm on the frosted glass and peered outside.
Another long beat of silence passed. Gods above, he was starting to dread the silence. It was making everything even worse.
“My mother hates me, Nik.” Agony wove through River’s words, a tapestry of pain. “She has for as long as I can remember. And for the life of me, I never understood why she felt this way. What I’d done to deserve such a gods-awful fate.”
Her words were sharp knives, slicing into Nikhail’s battered heart.
“A mother who despises her own daughter.” River laughed, the frigid sound lacking all emotion. Utterly unlike the powerful, wild woman she usually was. The cold sound hurt even more than her words. “Let’s just say, I figured it out.”
“Figured what out?” he asked after a moment.
Another beat passed. There was no peace or tranquility in this silence. Tense, the quiet was a pressing weight, unable to be ignored.
“I know why she hates me,” River whispered hoarsely.
She ran her fingers along the hem of her black dress, smoothing out invisible wrinkles. “The knowing hurts, Nik. It’s so much more painful than before because there’s a part of me that understands where she’s coming from. I hate that even after everything she’s done to me, I can empathize with her.”
Nikhail wasn’t sure what River was referring to, but that didn’t matter. He took River’s hand, cupping it between both of his. Her shoulders tensed, but she didn’t look up.
“River. Look at me.” He waited for her to obey, and when she did, he bit back a curse. The torment he saw had him wanting to murder the Representative. “Your mother is a gods-damned fucking fool.”
She sucked in a breath. “What?”
“Your mother’s hatred and her feelings—unjustified though they are—are not your problem or your concern. You cannot bear the weight of her feelings any more than you can change them, River. She alone is responsible for them.”
“But, Nik?—”
“No, Princess. You can’t change my mind on this. You are marvelous.” He would never cease to be amazed at how extraordinary River was. “If your mother cannot see that, it is entirely her fault. You cannot change the way she feels about you any more than you can command a ruby to be any color but red.”
River breathed his name and, gods. He would never tire of hearing it coming from her lips. Nikhail drew her closer, resting his forehead against hers. For a long moment, neither of them moved. They simply… existed. Together. There was a peace inside Nikhail that expanded the longer they stayed there, sharing the same air.
“I don’t really care why your mother hates you, River, because she doesn’t know you,” he murmured. “And that is, and always will be, her loss.”