A Father’s Love

R iver kept her promise. She remained by her father’s side, talking up a storm at his request.

She told him about everything, from the latest season of laser—it looked like her favorite team, the Drahanian Dragons, would win the Gilded Cup—to graduating at the top of her class.

She shared how she’d been accepted into the residency program at Lakewater General and how it had been hard to move to the city, away from him and Ryker.

The nurses slipped in and out of the room while she talked. Megan took Cyrus’s vitals while Serena gave him an injection. River paused to ask them a few questions about what they were giving him, but once they left, she went right back to talking.

She told her father about Ember, since Cyrus never had the chance to meet the fire fae, and about practicing medicine.

She skipped over the not-so-wonderful parts of her job—being late, Doctor Collins, Lila Howler’s death, losing Mrs. Valois—but she shared about all the things she enjoyed.

Healing. Working with her hands. Helping people when they needed her most.

“It sounds to me like you’ve found your calling,” Cyrus said when she finished telling him about the last surgery she’d been in before coming to Golden City.

“I have, Daddy.” River’s smile widened, and she passed a finger under her eyes. “I really have.”

He squeezed her hand. “I’m so happy you’ve found a fulfilling profession, my darling.”

His voice trailed off, and River sensed he wasn’t done. “But…”

“But life isn’t just about work. You need more.”

Gnawing on her bottom lip, River tugged her ring. The slight pain grounded her as she struggled to find something to say. Something to appease him.

“Do you have someone?” Cyrus looked pointedly at the necklace she was still wearing.

She hadn’t taken it off last night, even though she was certain that once she explained the extent of her curse to Nikhail, he would ask for it back.

“A lucky man or woman to come home to after a long shift at the hospital? Your brother has his Chosen wife, but what about you?”

River shifted in her seat. Had it become more uncomfortable?

“I…” She wanted to say no, to deny all of it, but the words wouldn’t come out of her mouth. Damn her inability to lie. “There is… someone.”

Sort of. For now. Until he learned the scope of how damaged and dangerous she was. Then, he’d run in the other direction.

Cyrus exhaled, leaning back. Relief and happiness shone in his eyes as he regarded her. “Tell me about them?” he requested, his eyes falling shut. “I’m still here. I’m just… listening.”

They were running out of time. River could feel it as surely as she felt the magic pulsing through her veins .

Get here quickly, Ryker , she thought, hoping Therian was flying as fast as possible.

“Of course, Daddy.” She scooted her chair closer and lifted the cup to his lips. “Well, if I’m being honest, this… thing between me and him is very new.”

And it wouldn’t be lasting long, although she wouldn’t burden her father with those details. Every moment of his time was precious, and she wouldn’t waste them on her or her curse.

“Oh? And who is this boyfriend of yours?”

“Well, I’m not sure if that’s what he is. We… we haven’t had the chance to talk about that yet.” She exhaled, running a hand down her ponytail. “We’re still working on things, you know?”

Cyrus’s eyes slowly opened. “What sort of things?”

The sort of things that meant that she could never be with anyone.

“Oh, you know,” she said, trying her best to be evasive. “The usual ones.”

His brows came together, and he looked at her sternly. “River, if he wants to be with you, then he needs to commit. You deserve someone’s full attention. End of story. If he can’t give you that?—”

“It’s not that, Daddy.” Gods, that definitely wasn’t the problem. The way Nikhail had kissed her and the things he’d said had made it clear he wasn’t seeing anyone else.

“Then what is it?”

She chewed on her bottom lip. This wasn’t really something she’d wanted to get into today, but she couldn’t see any other options. “It’s just… well, you know.”

“I don’t know. Tell me.” There was something about her father’s voice that had her feeling like she was a child again. She didn’t want to keep things from him, didn’t want to hold anything back .

“It’s my… curse,” she mumbled, averting her eyes.

The air in the room thickened, and the exhaustion that had been present in Cyrus’s gaze vanished. A growl rumbled through his chest, and for a moment, it was as if the Stillness had lost its grip on him entirely. Years melted off his face, his skin took on a livelier tone, and his cheeks flushed.

It was like she was seeing her father—really, truly seeing him for the fae he had been before the Stillness took hold of him—for the first time in two decades.

This version of Cyrus Waterborn was strong. Powerful. It was what she imagined Ryker would look like several centuries from now.

Her eyes stung once again, and she wiped her sleeve across her cheeks. These damned tears wouldn’t stop coming.

If the Stillness hadn’t struck, this was the father she could’ve had. A real one, who was present for more than just snippets of her life. She didn’t blame Cyrus for being sick—that would’ve been an awful thing to do—but she hated that this was giving her a glimpse of what she could’ve had.

“Now you listen to me, young lady.” Cyrus’s voice was firm and unwavering, so fierce that if she didn’t know he suffered from the Stillness, she’d never have guessed. “You are not, nor have you ever been, cursed.”

He spoke with so much power and conviction that her breath caught. As if he believed it. As if he thought she was normal. As if he thought her powers weren’t ruinous.

Cyrus knew of the Incident—he hadn’t been in an aware state when it happened, but they’d told him about it—but maybe he didn’t realize how bad it had been?

“Dad, my magic is?—”

“No!” he yelled.

She slammed her mouth shut, eyes widening .

“No child of mine is cursed .” He spat the last word, and thunder rumbled outside. Water formed on her father’s hands, a thin sheen that had her heart racing.

She hadn’t seen him use his magic in over a decade. The Stillness destroyed a fae’s power, eating away at their well of magic until there were only traces of it left. Cyrus must’ve pulled this up from the depths of his soul.

“Promise me you will not call yourself that again,” he snarled.

Could she do that? Could she make that promise? She’d thought of herself as the Cursed One for so long, the title was practically engraved on her soul.

“I—”

The door swung open, and Tertia entered the room in a flurry. The Representative’s usually pristine hair was frizzy and falling out of its bun, as if she’d been running her hands over it repeatedly. She tossed a light blue blazer into the corner of the room, sprinting towards the bed.

“Cy.” The word was a blubbering mess as it came out of Tertia’s lips, barely recognizable. She kneeled on the other side of the bed from River, flinging her arms over Cyrus’s upper body. “Oh, gods have mercy. I got the call and came as quickly as possible.”

Cyrus raised his hand, cupping Tertia’s face tenderly as if she weren’t known for her iciness. For her part, his wife leaned into his touch, a soft whimper escaping her. River had never heard her mother make that kind of sound before, never even known she was capable of it.

The hard lines of Tertia’s face softened, and her lips… slid up.

By the Obsidian Sands, River couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her mother appear relaxed, let alone smile .

For the longest moment, River’s parents stared into each other’s eyes. Neither of them seemed to remember that she was even there, and they had entire wordless conversations in the span of a few seconds.

Love and emotion radiated off them. River never would’ve believed that her mother was capable of such a thing if she hadn’t witnessed it. Cyrus, yes. She knew her father loved her and Ryker. She’d always known that, even when she was a little girl before he got sick.

But Tertia…

River had never seen her mother like this. Not one single time. Not even when Cyrus had spoken during Brynleigh’s introduction to the family.

When River was younger, she used to believe that her mother was incapable of love. That Tertia was cold and heartless, lacking the part of her soul that would allow her to feel emotions like the rest of them.

She’d told Ryker as much when she was eight. Her brother had wrapped his arms around her and drawn her into his lap, squeezing tightly.

“Mother loves us, Shortie,” he assured her in that confident way of his. “She just doesn’t know how to show it properly.”

But as she watched her parents now, River came to the sickening realization that her brother had been wrong. Tertia possessed the ability to love. The proof was right in front of her, and she couldn’t ignore it.

More than that, Tertia knew how to show her love. It was evident in every whispered word, every delicate kiss she pressed to her husband’s cheeks, and in every tear shimmering in her eyes.

No, the awful truth was that River’s mother knew how to love. She knew how to properly care for someone. She knew how to show it in all the right ways.

She just didn’t show River because…

Because…

Because she didn’t love River.

The realization was a sharp dagger, slicing through skin and bone and sinking into River’s heart. It embedded itself deeper and deeper, until she knew she’d never get it out. Never be the same again.

Why? Why did Tertia hate her so much? What had River ever done to deserve this fate on top of the burden she already bore?

Her father said she wasn’t cursed, but this was proof that she was. Why else would her own mother hate her?

As much as Cyrus had just begged River not to call herself cursed, she knew she couldn’t stop…

Just as she knew her mother would never love her.