Page 27
Story: A Curse of Stars and Storms (The Choosing Chronicles #3)
Easier Said Than Done
“ G ood evening, River.”
Three words. That’s all Nikhail said, and yet with them, he nearly undid all the hard work River had done for weeks.
Gods above. How did he do that? How did Nikhail get past all her defenses so easily? River sucked in a sharp breath, hardening the walls around her heart, desperate to keep them intact despite the way Nikhail’s voice made her feel.
The problem was that he said her name so perfectly, like it was the most precious word in his entire vocabulary. Honestly, if she didn’t know any better, she’d say it was because he was born to say her name, to whisper it in her ear, and to scream it from the highest mountain peak.
And yet.
She couldn’t let him break down her walls, couldn’t let him in. She had to be strong, even though her name had never sounded as perfect as it did coming from his beautiful lips.
Giving in was not an option. Not here in her mother’s house, while her father was asleep upstairs. Not when the Chancellor herself was holding court across the dancefloor.
Not. Ever.
You destroy things, she reminded herself, inhaling deeply. You cannot let him in. You cannot ruin him. Be strong .
Even with that reminder running through her mind, it took everything she had not to close the distance between her and Nikhail. Her feet itched to move closer and stand beside him.
If Ryker noticed the way her fingers were digging into his arms, he didn’t say anything. That was good because River was starting to realize that staying away from Nikhail would be easier said than done.
It was only then that River realized everyone was silent, waiting for her reply.
She looked up because apparently, her body had a mind of its own and didn’t understand the walls she’d built around her heart, and she met the air fae’s amber eyes. It was just for a moment, but his searing gaze seemed to look directly into her soul.
Unnerved, she dropped her eyes to his glass.
“Hi, Nikhail,” she murmured, staring at the sparkling wine. Who knew tiny bubbles could be so incredibly captivating? “How are you feeling?”
This topic was safe. Good, even. River liked talking about work. When she was Doctor Waterborn, she wasn’t the Cursed One. She was a healer. A savior. A bringer of life.
When she was working, River actively fought against her fate. With every person she helped, every injury and illness she healed, she laughed in the face of her curse.
River revised her plan. She’d keep her walls up, find out how Nikhail was doing, and then they’d go their separate ways.
It was sure to work.
Everyone who was anyone in the Republic of Balance was here tonight; surely, she could find a few people to talk to until leaving was socially acceptable. Nikhail would probably be hurt that she was ignoring him, but it was better for him to be hurt than dead.
And after that, she’d just spend the rest of her very long fae life avoiding relationships like the plague.
Easy.
“I’m fine, thank you.” Nikhail gestured to his side with his free hand. “Good as new, as you can see.”
Against her better judgment, River glanced up. And that…
By the Blessed Obsidian Sands, that was a mistake.
Nikhail’s soul-searching gaze ensnared her like an animal caught in a trap. Her heart beat faster, her mouth dried, and she felt an inexplicable urge to lunge towards the air fae and beg him to hold her tightly, like he did on the night of her storm.
Ryker grunted. “Riv.”
She jolted, her gaze swinging to her brother. Her nails were digging into his arm, his suit jacket wrinkled where she’d pressed her fingers into it.
“Sorry,” she whispered, loosening her grip.
Ryker glanced down at her, his brow raised as concern flickered through his gaze. “You okay?”
No. She wasn’t okay at all. The walls around her heart should’ve been unmovable, but they were quivering in the face of Nikhail’s… well, everything.
“I… will be,” she said.
Once this night was over. She just had to get through this, and then she’d be in the clear.
Ryker looked at her quizzically, his brows drawing together. Before he could ask more questions, his wife jumped in.
“You were hurt, Nik?” Brynleigh had procured a glass of bloodwine from a server and sipped from it. Between the bright red wine and the wings, her vampiric heritage was on full display.
Nikhail waved a hand in the air dismissively. “Oh, it was nothing.”
What did he just say?
River was moving before she even realized what was happening. Her hand slipped off Ryker’s arm, and her eyes widened.
“Nothing?” she repeated incredulously. “Nothing!”
Years of training regarding how proper ladies were meant to behave kept River’s voice low, but there was no way she could hide the disbelief running through her words.
Her hands trembled as visions of that day flashed through her mind. “You showed up at my hospital, covered in blood.”
Nikhail nodded. “I healed, though,” he said calmly. “The wound wasn’t that bad. Some might even call it minor.”
Gods above. Was he serious? Bugs had smaller eyes than River did right now. She could feel them widening as anger churned within her.
Nikhail had been a terrible patient, but this was another level of ridiculousness that she simply would not tolerate.
“Nikhail, your internal organs were making a concerted effort to permanently reside outside the confines of your body,” she said as sternly as she could manage. She feared the tremor in her hands was detracting from the seriousness of the conversation. “Believe it or not, that’s not a minor wound.”
That was about as far from minor as he could get.
A muffled cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh came from behind River. She spun around, crossing her arms as she found her sister-in-law watching the conversation, hiding a bemused smile behind her glass of bloodwine.
Ryker, though…
He wasn’t smiling. His eyes were narrowed as they swung between her and Nikhail. As if he knew something was between them. But he didn’t—Nikhail had promised not to tell him about her storm, and she knew he’d kept his promise.
Whatever Ryker thought he saw, he was wrong. There was not, nor would there ever be, anything between River and Nikhail.
The thought had her heart clenching, and she returned her attention to the problem at hand.
“Your best friend had the gall to try and leave the hospital a few hours after he underwent life-saving surgery,” she told her brother. “If they hadn’t stopped him, he would’ve died.”
River’s heart constricted, and her lungs refused to function as thoughts of Nikhail’s death filled her.
Breathe! she commanded herself.
She couldn’t let herself go down that train of thought. Not here. Not now. She had to keep the walls around her heart intact, and she couldn’t do that if she was panicking about the Black Night.
Besides, they’d failed. Nikhail was still alive. That’s why she was doing this.
River could survive without love. She could push everyone away because of her curse, dooming herself to a lonely existence.
But what she couldn’t do—what she never wanted to think about, let alone experience for a single moment—was live in a world that didn’t have Nikhail Galebringer in it.
“That sounds like a harrowing experience.” Ryker’s gods- damned perceptive eyes were still swinging between them. “Your report made things sound much less life-threatening, Nik.”
Nikhail shrugged. Shrugged! As if getting shards of prohiberis pulled from his abdomen was an everyday occurrence. As if he hadn’t been moments from bleeding out.
“Well, you know how it is,” the reckless air fae said. “As long as a killing blow isn’t dealt, there isn’t much difference between a paper cut and a more serious wound.”
River’s mouth fell to the floor, and for a moment, she forgot all about the barriers around her heart. How dare Nikhail be so damned cavalier about this? He’d nearly died .
Even though fae were notoriously fast healers, they could still experience fatal wounds.
Before River could remind this infuriating man that she knew exactly how close death had been to claiming him because she’d sat by his side for hours, praying for Dyna to heal him, a ripple of energy came from behind her. The air shifted, and the scent of vanilla wafted towards her.
Oh, no.
River’s shoulders stiffened, becoming as rigid as a plank of wood, and she dug her fingernails into her palms as the scent grew stronger. Her eyes burned. Her back straightened.
Other people might’ve enjoyed the scent of vanilla, but not her. It didn’t bring her feelings of joy or memories of baked cookies. She never ate vanilla ice cream, and she despised all perfumes laced with the scent.
No, for River, the fragrance only meant one thing.
Her fears were confirmed a heartbeat later when Ryker tensed beside her.
Brynleigh murmured something unfavorable beneath her breath before tossing back the rest of her wine in one gulp.
Several shadows wrapped around the vampire’s wrists, black bracelets that sucked in the light.
Even Nikhail shifted from one foot to the other.
Gods above. River had been able to avoid her mother’s unwanted attention all day, but her good luck just ran out.
And to think that a few minutes ago, she thought that her biggest problem would be keeping the walls up around her heart. In all honesty, that task seemed easy when compared to dealing with the Representative of the Fae. Her mother was a prickly cactus on a good day.
River shut her eyes, inhaling deeply as she pulled strength up from within herself.
I can do this, she reminded herself. I am strong and capable. Even if her words sting, they cannot hurt me .
But as much as River told herself that words had no power, she was having trouble believing that to be true.
The scent of vanilla grew stronger. River’s stomach coiled, and she swallowed past the growing lump of emotion in her throat.
Table of Contents
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- Page 27 (Reading here)
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