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This morning, Tertia had been sitting at the head of the long mahogany table, her back straight and her brown hair coiffed in a perfect chignon.

Not a single strand had been out of place.

Diamond earrings had twinkled in the morning light, and she’d worn a tailored cream pantsuit that probably cost as much as a small house.

“I’m sorry, River.” Eliza’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “I’m sure that was disappointing.”

Was it? It probably should’ve been, but Tertia’s hatred was a regular part of River’s life, just like the university classes she attended.

River couldn’t remember a time when her mother hadn’t hated her. The sting of her mother’s disapproval was as normal as the rising sun.

“It… wasn’t a good feeling,” River admitted.

A heaviness settled upon her chest, and she dug her nails into her palms. Talking about Tertia always made her feel like this.

It didn’t matter that River was a Mature fae in her twenties. Tertia Waterborn—River hated calling her “Mother,” since the Representative clearly despised the role—always made her feel small. Worthless, even.

Several minutes passed in silence. That heaviness pressed down, down, down on River’s chest until it was crushing her lungs. Her fingers tightened, her nails dug into her palms, and her practiced breaths were far too short.

Eliza hummed quietly. “Keep going, River,” she encouraged. “What happened after that?”

Oh, gods. River had known she would have to talk about this with her therapist, but she couldn’t stop herself from shivering.

It was as if her magic were on a stove, and someone had turned up the heat.

Once again, it bubbled in her veins, approaching boiling.

She drew her arms around herself, mentally repeating Eliza’s mantra until her powers simmered once more.

“Tertia was working, as usual.” Reminding herself to keep breathing, River allowed memories of this morning to pull her in. “Tertia is always working.”

It had been that way for as long as River could remember. Ever since her father, Cyrus Waterborn, got sick, her mother immersed herself in her work. The only time she truly surfaced was during her husband’s increasingly rare moments of clarity.

“That must be difficult,” Eliza remarked, her calm voice soothing River’s magic further.

River waved a hand in the air dismissively. “Well, you know. That’s how it’s always been.”

The therapist’s brows slanted together, and she shook her head. “That doesn’t make it okay.”

“No, but it is what it is.” And honestly, Tertia’s workaholic tendencies were the least of River’s problems.

Eliza clucked her tongue, a frown tugging on her lips. “That’s not true, but we’ll work on that another day.”

Great, another problem to add to River’s extensive list. As if she didn’t already have enough trauma to work through. At this rate, she would be seeing her therapist until the day one of them Faded.

“Okay.” River twisted her fingers together. The sooner she finished telling this story, the better. “When I walked into the dining room, Tertia stood and stared at me.”

“She didn’t speak?”

“Nope.” River popped the p , hunching in on herself. “Several minutes passed in complete and utter silence. Neither of us spoke, and the temperature just… dropped.”

Frost had gathered on the windowsills, and River’s breath had clouded in front of her face. Even now, a chill remained embedded in her bones.

Prior experience with her mother’s magic told her it would be there for several days.

Tertia was a water fae, but ice was her specialty. Had she been alive when the fae lived on the other side of the Indigo Ocean, on the Obsidian Coast, Tertia probably would’ve enjoyed encasing her enemies in ice for causing her the most minor inconvenience.

These days, there were laws in the Republic of Balance that prevented such things from happening. Tertia had to use more civilized methods to make her displeasure known—and she was often displeased.

“What happened after that?” Eliza gently prodded.

River’s gaze dropped to her arm, visually tracing the black floral ink covering her right arm.

She had several piercings—three in each pointed ear and one in her nose, lip, and belly button—but this was her first tattoo.

She was particularly pleased with it, especially since Tertia abhorred it.

The Representative wasn’t quiet about the fact that she believed tattoos defaced one’s body.

“Eventually, she said my name.” Goose bumps peppered River’s arms. “I’ve heard her speak to vampires with more warmth than what she directed at me, and she hates vampires.” Almost as much as she hated her daughter.

River flicked up her eyes, meeting her therapist’s gaze. “But you’d be proud of me.”

“Oh?”

“A year ago, I would’ve picked a fight, but I didn’t.”

Eliza smiled warmly, and some of the ice that had wormed its way into River’s heart thawed. “That’s wonderful progress. You’re right, I am proud of you.”

Sincerity laced the therapist’s words, and even with the pain of recounting this morning’s encounter, River’s lips twitched upwards. A smile started to form, but it fell when she remembered what happened next.

“It is, but in the end, it didn’t matter. Tertia was ready to fight.” River hugged her arms around herself and shut her eyes, as if it could block out the memories. “I greeted her, and she… she…”

The words didn’t want to come.

“It’s all right,” Eliza murmured. “Take your time.”

River drew in a deep breath, letting this morning’s events flood her mind.

The air in the formal dining room was as thick as mud after a rainstorm, and River was sinking into it. Her mother’s piercing brown stare pinned her in place, rendering movement impossible. Her breath quickened, and she tried to remember her meditative thoughts, but they were escaping her.

Why had she thought this was a good idea? Why had she thought that today, things would be different?

“Your brother called,” Tertia said coldly.

River licked her lips, her mouth drying. “Oh?”

The Representative angled her head, a hunter watching her prey. “He tells me that you’ve been accepted into the surgical residency program in Lakewater.”

Tertia’s ice-cold voice sent shivers cascading down River’s spine, and it took everything she had not to visibly shudder.

“Yes, that’s correct.” River had celebrated her acceptance with her brother and his wife, Brynleigh, last weekend before enlisting Ryker’s help to tell their mother. She’d hoped the news would go over better coming from him. Most things did. After all, Tertia seemed to at least like Ryker.

After the Incident, River had thrown herself into her studies.

Thanks to the best private tutors that money could buy, she finished her secondary education early and got a head start on her university course load.

She’d fast-tracked two degrees, which meant she was a few years younger than most in her program, including her best friend, Ember. That had never bothered her, though.

When River was working, she was able to help people. She would never be able to atone for her sins, not even if she worked every minute of every day for the rest of her long life, but she’d never stop trying.

She owed it to those whose lives had been destroyed because of her loss of control.

Long minutes passed in silence, but River didn’t speak. She’d been raised in Waterborn House, after all, and she’d committed her mother’s rules to memory long ago.

Good daughters do not raise their voices in their mother’s presence.

Good daughters do not speak out of turn.

Good daughters do not destroy villages, kill thousands of humans, and bring shame upon their families.

The last rule had been added after the Incident. As if River would ever forget what she’d done. As if the ghosts of those she’d murdered didn’t haunt her on a nightly basis. As if her curse didn’t constantly course through her veins, reminding her just how bad of a daughter she was.

Tertia had never been a great mother, but ever since the Incident, she’d made hating River one of her life goals. Nothing could shake the Representative’s immense displeasure in her only daughter, not even Ryker’s choice to Choose and subsequently marry a vampire.

Even shopping, which had once been an activity that both Tertia and River enjoyed doing together, was no longer a source of pleasure. Every single interaction with the Representative, big and small, was painful.

After what felt like a lifetime, the put-together water fae stepped forward. Tertia drummed her manicured nails on the table, the steady rhythm echoing the beating of River’s heart.

“You will not disappoint this family, River.”

The subtext was crystal clear: You will not disappoint me.

Never mind that River had spent years learning how to heal people. Never mind that she was training to be a surgeon and had dedicated her life to saving lives. Never mind that she hadn’t lost control once since the Incident.

None of that mattered because it didn’t directly involve Tertia. Everything was, and always would be, about her.

For some reason, when River had received the acceptance letter to the surgical residency program, she’d thought that, for once, Tertia might be proud of her.

After all, not only was she the youngest student in her year, but she was graduating at the top of the class.

She’d worked her ass off to excel in every single subject.

But no.

In her mother’s eyes, River Emeline Waterborn was, and always would be, a disappointment. The Cursed One, nothing more .

The sting of this morning’s conversation remained in River’s chest, and she rubbed her fist over her sternum. Sighing, she opened her eyes.

“That’s it. Tertia’s phone rang, and she dismissed me without another word.” River kneaded her temples, a headache forming behind her eyes. “I checked on Dad before heading to bed, and when I woke up to come here, she was gone.”

“Where did she go?”

“On a work trip to the Northern Region.”

Her therapist raised a brow. “She called you to tell you that?”

“No.” An incredulous scoff left River’s lips, and she shook her head, wringing her hands together. “She didn’t even leave a note. Can you believe that? I saw it on the shared family calendar on my phone.”

Sometimes, it felt like a miracle that River was even included in that calendar.

There was no missing the flash of disapproval in Eliza’s eyes. “Your mother should’ve said goodbye,” she said sternly. “I’m sorry.”

River went back to picking at her nails. “Me, too.”

When she’d realized that her mother had left, anger had burned in her veins alongside her curse. Did she mean so little to the Representative of the Fae that she couldn’t even be bothered to speak to her?

Tertia was a government official—dealing with people was part of her job. But speaking to her daughter was, apparently, too much to ask.

The longer River thought about it, the angrier she got. She’d raced outside, her magic screaming in her veins as she released it in the enormous garden behind Waterborn House .

By the time she returned inside, the gardens were well watered, and River…

Well, she was tired. These days, she was always tired, so that wasn’t entirely surprising.

The awful truth, the one that River hadn’t even been brave enough to admit to Eliza, was that she didn’t need Tertia’s help to feel worthless. She didn’t need someone else to tell her that she was a disappointment in order to feel bad about the things she’d done.

Every day, from her first waking moment to her last, River dragged around the crushing weight of her curse. It was a millstone around her neck, a ponderous burden that was hers and hers alone. No one could help lighten the load she bore.

Even Eliza, with her helpful advice and mantras, was still only a bystander to River’s daily struggle.

This was the cost of her magic. Cursed to forever bear the weight of it on her own, she’d never fully find freedom or absolution from her sins.

No matter how hard she tried.