27. I Made My Choice

CHAPTER 27

I Made My Choice

" W arn me?" Brynleigh echoed Ryker's words. "What do you want to warn me about?"

Ryker had spent the car ride debating whether or not he should have this conversation, but in the end, he decided he wanted Brynleigh to be prepared. Still, he picked his words carefully.

"My mother can be… difficult, at times." Most of the time, if he was being honest.

Ryker loved his mother, but she'd never exactly been soft. She wanted her children to be perfect in every way. After the Incident, she'd been colder and harder than before.

Usually, Tertia directed her ire at River, but this week, she had turned her sights off her rebellious daughter and onto her son. She'd made frequent passive-aggressive comments about Brynleigh whenever they spoke. She never expressed her displeasure directly, but it wasn't necessary.

Ryker understood his mother far better than most, and he knew she was disappointed he hadn't picked a more "appropriate" bride like Valentina Rose.

No matter how plainly Ryker put it, Tertia refused to understand that he wasn't interested in the fire fae. He didn't want someone who enjoyed throwing lavish parties and attending all the social events. He'd done these things for years, fulfilling the duties that came along with being the son of a Representative, and he hated them. He didn't want a party planner. He wanted someone who made him laugh, challenged him, and was gods-damned amazing in every way.

That someone was Brynleigh.

Ryker had explained as much to his mother multiple times during their stay at The Lily, but he still had a niggling fear that she might try something tonight. He needed to prepare Brynleigh for the fact that his mother might be… abrasive.

All fae knew how to watch their words—it was one of the first things they learned because lying wasn't an option—but they could also speak cutting jabs like no one else. Just because Tertia might not outright insult Brynleigh—he hoped his mother would exhibit more class than that—didn't mean she would be kind. She was the only one he was worried about. River and Cyrus would fall in love with Brynleigh as soon as they met her, just like Ryker had.

Two lines creased Brynleigh's forehead, temporarily marring her unblemished skin. "What do you mean?"

Ryker took her hand in his and kissed the back of her palm. "I love you."

She frowned, and he felt he was messing up all of this. "I know you do."

It hadn't escaped Ryker's notice that Brynleigh had yet to return those three words. He'd be lying if he said he didn't want to hear them, but he wouldn't pry them out of her lips before she was ready. Waiting would make hearing them all the sweeter.

Ryker forced his lips to form a smile. "My sister's going to love you, too. Dad will, too. Of that, I'm certain."

"Oh." Brynleigh ran the tip of her tongue over one of her fangs. That minuscule movement had no business being so attractive. "But your mother…"

"By the Obsidian Sands, I hope I'm wrong." If Ryker thought it would help, he'd travel to the nearest fae temple and pray upon the vials of sand themselves, begging the deities to hear his pleas. Unfortunately, he was a realist. He didn't think that anything, even the black grains that had been brought across the Indigo Ocean with the fae, could change Tertia's opinion about her son's bride.

Brynleigh was attentive, and she picked up what he wasn't outright saying. "Your mother won't like me, will she?"

His heart twisted at the doubt in her voice.

Ryker cupped Brynleigh's cheek, and she leaned into his touch. He loved that she relaxed around him and trusted him enough to let him touch her like this. "I hope she does," he said. "You are incredible. She'd be a fool not to see that."

"I understand." Disappointment flashed through Brynleigh's eyes.

The sight was a knife to Ryker's gut.

"Listen to me, sweetheart," he said gruffly. "No matter what she says in there, I picked you. I Chose you. I will continue to do so until the end of time."

Nothing would ever tear them apart. No person could destroy the relationship they'd built. It was steadfast, built on a stronger foundation than simply physical attraction. Their souls were linked.

Ryker's heart boomed as he waited for Brynleigh's response. Each moment stretched on and on until she finally nodded. "Alright, I understand."

He prayed to the gods that she did. Or that his gut was wrong, and he was worried for no reason. He hoped this dinner wouldn't be a disaster.

Only time would tell.

Ryker had been to his family home hundreds of times since he moved out, but this was the first time he felt strange about it. Almost like he didn't fully belong here.

It was because of the vampire at his side. He'd given Brynleigh his heart, and now, his life belonged with her. Where she went, he would always follow.

Two hours later, Ryker knew he'd been right to worry. His mother had been kind enough to Brynleigh when she greeted them in the garage, but he'd caught the clench in Tertia's jaw and the hardness in her eyes.

Tertia was incredibly overdressed for the occasion. She wore a floor-length cerulean ballgown with three-inch heels as if she was about to attend a formal engagement and not have dinner with her two children and soon-to-be daughter-in-law. That was Tertia, though. She was the definition of dramatic.

Unlike Ryker, who'd had arranged for contractors to swap out the windows in his apartment to accommodate Brynleigh's inability to be in the sun, his parents hadn't changed their windows. However, they had installed blackout blinds since he had made it a condition of their visit. He wouldn't take Brynleigh anywhere that might endanger her.

It wasn't Tertia's words that had Ryker on edge. For the most part, his mother was kind enough as she played tour guide and showed Brynleigh through the mansion. It was what she wasn't saying that had Ryker ready to bolt far earlier than he had planned.

Whenever Tertia thought Brynleigh wasn't looking, she shot Ryker searing looks. When she spoke, she used the sickly-sweet tone she reserved for people she considered beneath her. Disapproval radiated from her pores.

Anger frothed and bubbled in Ryker's veins, worsening by the minute. Brynleigh was to be his bride, and he wouldn't allow his mother to continue treating her in such a fashion.

"This is Cyrus's study." Tertia pointed at the closed door, which hid the space that had sat empty for the past decade and a half. "It doesn't get much use anymore."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Brynleigh said softly.

So was Ryker. He waited for his mother to say something kind. To acknowledge Brynleigh's comment.

Instead, Tertia said, "Hmm," turned, and walked away. Her heels clicked on the marble flooring, and Ryker stared at her retreating back.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, squeezing Brynleigh's hand. "She's not usually… I'll talk to her."

"Thank you," Brynleigh murmured. "It's okay, though. She doesn't like me. I understand."

No, it wasn't okay. Not with Ryker. The sooner this tour was over, the better. He would be talking to his mother tonight about her attitude. This was inappropriate, and he would not stand for it.

They followed his mother.

As a child, Ryker used to love running down these halls. Waterborn House had over forty rooms and three floors. When his mother wasn't home, he had free rein. Ryker had many memories of racing through the house, roaring with laughter, and sliding down the floors in his socks as his father chased him, imitating a dragon.

Those shrieks of joy were long gone. Now, Waterborn House was simply a ghost of times long gone. A holder of memories. A keeper of the past.

Ryker tried to see his childhood home through Brynleigh's eyes. It was massive. Paintings of his ancestors adorned the walls. Centuries-old statues perched on tables. Gold trimmed the baseboards. A hundred other little touches screamed "old money." It was less of a home and more of a museum.

They finally reached the engraved library doors. Tertia stopped in front of them and turned. The Representative was nearly a foot shorter than Ryker, but there was no denying the authority with which she carried herself.

Tertia looked past Ryker to the vampire at his side.

"Tell me, Miss de la Point." His mother had yet to call Brynleigh by her first name, which was grating on Ryker's last nerve. He would be addressing that issue with his mother tonight as well. "Have you ever read the Ballad of the Light Elves? "

Ryker stared at Tertia. What the hell was going through her mind? The ballad predated the Battle of Balance, a pivotal turning point in their country's history, and it was written in an ancient dialect of the Common Tongue that very few people still spoke. He had only read the ballad because it was compulsory for his twelfth-grade literature class. The epic tale of good and evil took place during the Fall of the Rose Empire and had no ramifications on their current lives.

"Unfortunately, I haven't had the privilege," Brynleigh said sweetly. She hadn't stooped to Tertia's level, speaking kindly despite his mother's uncouth behavior.

"Hmm." Tertia lifted her shoulder and frowned. "Such a pity. All the girls attending Highmountain's School for Young Fae study the ballad during their fourth year."

Ryker slid Brynleigh behind him. It was a subtle movement, but he knew Tertia noticed. "Enough, Mother," he growled in warning, clenching his fists at his sides.

The Representative's eyes widened in mock shock, and her hand flew to her heart. Did his mother think him a fool? He knew she was doing this purposefully, and he understood precisely what kind of game she was playing.

"What?" Tertia had the gall to sound innocent. "I'm just curious about what kind of education my son's girlfriend received. What's wrong with that?"

"She's not my girlfriend; she's my fiancée," Ryker corrected, not bothering to mask the ire in his voice. "We're getting married in a week." He growled. "You know that."

As far as Ryker was concerned, the week couldn't go fast enough. He never thought he'd be one to look forward to a wedding, but he was eager to marry his vampire. The weddings promised to be extravagant affairs. When one had as much money as the organizers of the Choosing had at their disposal, lavish events could be thrown together in less than a month.

Tertia sighed. "You know I'm concerned for your well-being, Ryker. If the vampire doesn't even know the Ballad of the Light Elves , who knows what else is lacking from her education?"

"I—" Brynleigh started to say.

Apparently, Ryker's mother had lost her mind because she spoke right over Brynleigh. "I'm just saying that you need to be careful, my son. That's all."

Ryker growled, "Mother?—"

"It's not too late, you know. I talked to Ignatia, and the Rose girl would be willing to break her engagement to Edward. I watched the Choosing with the rest of the world and saw you two together. Valentina would be a marvelous wife for you, Ryker, dear. She's powerful, strong, and well-educated."

Had Ryker been angry before? That was nothing compared to the fury churning in him now .

The air in the hallway practically crackled. His water magic thrummed steadily in his veins, itching to be released. There was a storm within him, needing to protect what was his. His nostrils flared. Red tinged his vision.

He stepped towards his mother, looming over her, and yelled, "Enough!"

Tertia gasped, pressing a hand against her heart once more. "Ryker Elias Waterborn, do not raise your voice to me!"

Power rippled from her.

Goosebumps broke out on Ryker's arms. So much for waiting until after dinner. Their conversation would be happening right fucking now.

"I will do whatever it takes to protect my fiancée, Mother." He held Brynleigh at his side. "I will not allow you to disrespect my Chosen bride in such a manner. Do not speak to me of Valentina Rose or any other woman again. I will not stand for it. I have made my Choice, and I will not go back on my word. I love Brynleigh."

His chest heaved as his words echoed around them. He had meant every single one and wouldn't take them back.

His mother's bottom lip wobbled. For a single moment, Ryker wondered if he'd been too harsh. But then Tertia opened her mouth. Her voice lacked all traces of maternal warmth, and she stared daggers at her firstborn.

"You dare speak to me about your Choice?" Her eyes narrowed, and the temperature in the hallway dropped as she moved closer to Ryker. "You've Chosen an undead bloodsucker who has no lineage, proper education, or finances to speak of. You don't want my advice? Fine. Don't come crying to Mommy when it all falls apart. I won't give a damn."

Ryker snarled, the sound feral as it ripped through him.

How fucking dare she? In all his years, he'd heard his mother be cold but never cruel in this fashion. He'd brought Brynleigh for a nice, civilized family dinner, but his mother was destroying it before it even began with her poisonous, barbed words.

"This won't fall apart. I love her," Ryker seethed. His fingers curled around Brynleigh's, and he stepped back from his mother. "This was a bad idea. We should?— "

Footsteps came from behind them, and River hurried down the hall. She'd changed and now wore a knee-length black pencil skirt and a flowing purple blouse. It softened her look but did nothing to temper the rebellious spark in her eyes.

"Ah, my daughter. Late as usual," Tertia remarked caustically. Yeah, this wasn't going well at all.

"Am I late? It looks like I'm right on time for the fight." River crossed her arms.

Mother and daughter glared at each other, and the tension rose and rose. Gods damn it all.

Ryker clenched his jaw and inhaled deeply. If this evening could be saved, he would have to do it now. He pinned Tertia with a glare that would have sent soldiers scurrying to do his bidding. His mother glared right back.

"We're not fighting," Ryker ground out. "I was telling Mother how much I love Brynleigh and would do anything for her."

Ryker held his mother's gaze. He let her see everything on his face. His anger, his willingness to turn and walk out of this house with his bride, and his resolve to put Brynleigh first, always.

Tertia might have given birth to him, but it didn't give her the right to treat his Chosen partner with anything less than the utmost respect. Of all the things Ryker held dear, his family was at the top of his list. He respected his mother, but in a week, Brynleigh would be his wife. That put her above everyone else. He would not hesitate to remove them from this situation if it became toxic.

"That's so sweet, Ryker." River walked up behind her brother. She wrapped one arm around his waist and the other around Brynleigh's. Resting her head between them, River grinned first at him and then at his vampire. "Hi. I'm River. It seems my brother has forgotten to introduce us."

He hadn't forgotten. He'd been preoccupied with other things, like making sure his mother knew he wouldn't tolerate disrespect toward his bride.

Brynleigh disentangled herself from his arms and turned around. "It's nice to meet you, River. You know, I've heard quite a bit about you. Your brother is rather proud of you. "

Proud was an understatement. River was the most powerful water fae of their generation, and with some training, she would be unstoppable. Not only that, but she was kindhearted and caring. Ryker would do anything for his sister. He'd proven that six years ago.

Memories that he usually kept under wraps pulsed through his mind. Water, pouring from the sky. His hands, outstretched. His well of magic, rapidly draining as he reeled it all in. Utter exhaustion that had kept him down for days.

"I'm proud of him, too." River smiled up at Ryker and touched his arm. "I came to let you all know dinner's ready. Dad's waiting for us." She bit her lip, making the ring in the middle stand. "He was… tired today."

Ryker heard the unspoken words as though she'd shouted them at him. We don't have long .

He turned and hurried to the dining room.

Dinner was a formal affair in more ways than one.

Instead of eating in the smaller dining room near the family's living quarters like they usually did for their family dinners, they sat in the massive one that could hold fifty people. The table was enormous, and the five of them looked comical sitting at it. A classical concerto dating back to the time of the High Ladies of Life and Death streamed from hidden speakers, adding to the ceremonious air of tonight's dinner.

Tertia sat at the head of the table, glaring icy daggers at Brynleigh. The Representative hadn't said anything to the vampire since the library, which was good. If she did, Ryker would either lash out with his magic, words, or both. He wasn't sure which he would choose if push came to shove, but he would defend Brynleigh to his last breath.

Either way, he knew his mother would not appreciate his actions.

He and Brynleigh sat together in the middle of the table. The pristine white tablecloth was long and hid their joined hands. River was across from them, and Cyrus sat beside his daughter.

No one spoke, as was the norm. For as long as Ryker could remember, Tertia always had one rule at family dinner: no one was allowed to talk until the food was served. Even though her children were grown, the rule still stood.

Ryker picked up his glass of red wine, curling his fingers around the stem. Beside him, Brynleigh had a similar beverage, although hers was spiked with blood. River stared at her empty plate, twisting a lock of hair through her fingers, but Ryker studied his father.

Cyrus's gaze was clear as he looked around the room from his wheelchair. Though the bags beneath his eyes spoke to the tiredness River had mentioned, it seemed like today was a good day.

Those were rare. The Stillness was a silent thief, stealing their father day by day. Soon, Cyrus would Fade to nothing but dust, his body returning to the black sands where the fae first came from. When the illness first hit, Ryker's father lost feeling in his toes. Less than a year after that, he'd woken unable to move his feet. Then, his legs.

Every year, it got worse and worse.

The Stillness varied from fae to fae. It struck some like a lightning bolt, stealing their ability to live in one day, while it drained others of life over several years or decades. There was no cure, only methods to make the end of life more manageable.

One day, Cyrus's heart would stop beating, and his lungs would no longer be able to draw air.

Ryker dreaded that day. All children were meant to see their parents Fade—it was a natural part of life. But this was different. Cyrus hadn't lived the thousand years his father had before him. He was young for a fae, only four centuries old.

Cyrus Waterborn was everything Tertia was not. Where she was cold, he was warm. Where she was focused on her work, he made sure their children knew they were cared for and loved. Ryker had never doubted his parents loved him because his father showed him affection daily.

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.

The moment the patriarch looked at his wife, the Representative's composure shattered. She cried out, and her chair tumbled to the ground. She practically flew around the table.

"Dyna, have mercy on us," Tertia sobbed as she kissed her husband. "You're here."