They had just begun to settle, the storm of tears and emotion finally quieting into the warmth of presence and togetherness, as River helped them all take their seats at the elegant tea table, her hands still trembling slightly as she moved the porcelain dishes around, trying to focus on something—anything—other than the tangle of thoughts rising again in her chest like a serpent. The tea steamed gently from the delicate cups, and the golden pastries lay artfully arranged on the silver trays, their sweetness inviting, a strange contrast to the heaviness that had not yet left the room.
River tried to summon a smile as she offered the tray to her father and said softly, “Please, try some. The omegas here are amazing with sweets—”
But her father raised a hand, his expression gentle but fir
