Page 117 of A Game of Love and Betrayal

And now, he was dying.

Everyone had their ways of dealing with the Stillness. Tertia threw herself into work. Ryker took over the patriarchal role in their family, ensuring everyone’s well-being. And River? She spent hours praying to Dyna, the fae goddess of life and healing. When she wasn’t at the temples, River was at school learning to be a doctor. She hoped to try and find a cure before it was too late.

Ryker wasn’t sure his sister’s prayers would do any good. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in the gods and goddesses worshiped throughout the Republic of Balance. They were as real to him as the Obsidian Sands the fae revered.

He just didn’t believe the deities were watching their every move. If the gods cared as much as River or the priests would have them believe, how could they let the world fall apart around them? How could they let people starve in the streets? How could they let his father die of the Stillness?

No, Ryker was reasonably certain the gods didn’t care about what was happening in the Republic of Balance.

The dining room door slid open, and three servants entered the room. They were all Light Elves employed by his mother to keep the house and serve meals. There had been help around the house for as long as Ryker could remember.

Mr. Cobalt, the oldest of the three servants, cleared his throat. “The first course is served, Representative Waterborn.”

“Wonderful, thank you.” Tertia smiled, but the gesture was frigid. Evidently, she hadn’t gotten over the incident at the library earlier, either.

The servants stepped forward, serving a chilled tomato gazpacho to the four fae. Another glass was brought for Brynleigh. This one was filled to the brim with dark, crimson blood.

“Thank you.” She took a sip and hummed. “It’s perfect.”

The servants slipped out of the dining room as quickly as they’d appeared, closing the door behind them.

For a moment, no one spoke. The silence stretched on and on.

Then, Tertia picked up her spoon. “Well, let’s eat.” She sent a withering glare in Brynleigh’s direction. “Or drink, I suppose, since you can’t do anything else.”

Ryker bristled, the spoon curling in his fist as he glared at his mother. This was going down in history as their worst family dinner, which was a feat.

Every part of Ryker’s body was tense like he was moments away from shattering.

Seconds went by, long and endless and painful.

Then, the strangest thing happened.

A cough came from across the table. It was weak but so unexpected that it sounded like a gong.

“Be… kind, Tertia.” The admonition was a murmur slipping from Cyrus’s mouth.

The entire room seemed to take a breath.

Ryker’s heart stopped beating momentarily as he lifted his gaze to his father’s.

What he saw there stunned him. Cyrus’s eyes were alert and lacked the glassiness that often ran through them. There was life in his eyes, a vividness that had been missing for many years.

At that moment, nothing outside this room mattered. Even if the rebels attacked, Ryker wouldn’t notice.

His dad was alert.

“Daddy?” River’s lip quivered, and tears lined her eyes.

The hope in River’s voice made Ryker’s heart lurch in his chest. This was real, right? It had to be real.

Cyrus turned his head slowly—so gods-damned slowly that it felt like an eternity passed—towards his daughter. His trembling, nearly translucent hand rose in the air, and he placed his fingers on her healthy, sun-kissed skin.

“Yes, Princess.” His chapped lips formed the words with the utmost care. “I’m… here.”

Ryker’s heart remembered that it had stopped beating. It picked up, the rhythm a staccato in his chest. The spoon was a twisted piece of metal as he dropped it to the table, forgotten.

Everyone stared at Cyrus, whose gaze crawled from River to Ryker to Tertia.

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