Father.
My father’s study is a museum of masculine confidence. I used to love this room for its warmth, the feeling that the world was orderly and could be managed with enough strategic thinking and the right stationery. Today, I sit on a leather chair across from his desk, bracing myself against the cold reality that the world I want is not in his filing cabinet.
He looks up from his laptop, glasses perched at the tip of his nose. Even with graying hair and wrinkles seamed at the corners of his eyes, my father is not a soft man. He’s built from the same blueprint as Zane: broad-shouldered, methodical, exuding a controlled authority that would’ve made him a warlord in another era.
“Helena,” he says, setting the glasses aside. “To what do I owe the pleasure? You haven’t even had breakfast.” His tone is a warning:do not waste my time with melodrama before coffee.
I fix my gaze on the cut-glass decanter in the corner. “I’d like to discuss my plans for the summer. Before Omega Selection Day.”
He leans back and folds his hands. “I assume you’ll be preparing. There are several etiquette events, and your mother has scheduled appointments for attire.”
“I’m not attending any of it.” The words come out easier than I thought they would. “I want to go to Cornwall for the whole summer.”
His eyebrows rise. “Cornwall? As in England? Why on earth?—”
“Because I need to think,” I cut in, the edge in my voice surprising both of us. “About what I want. About who I am, outside of… all this.”
My father nearly glares at me. I’ve never in my life seen him look so angry with me, and I understand why. “You’re a Starling. An omega from a line older than half the country. We don’t have the luxury of second-guessing ourselves, least of all after forcing your way into finishing school in your late twenties.”
His words strike deep because they’re true. I was far older than most of my peers, and that did hurt. Now…
I dig my nails into my palms. “Well, the luxury is exactly what I want for three months.”
He scoffs a dry little puff of air. “You’re not running away, Helena. Not with what’s at stake.” His hand moves to the decanter on his desk. He pours himself a measure of scotch before nine in the morning.
“I’mnotrunning,” I insist. “I’m pausing. That’s all. You know what it’s like to be judged, to have everything decided for you. I just—” I break off, forcing the words out. “I need to make sure this is the future I want. Not one you and Mother want.”
He studies me with narrowed eyes. “You don’t get to decide whether or not you’re an omega.”
“I know.” My voice cracks. “But I can decide whether or not I’m miserable while living.”
A long silence follows, interrupted only by the clicking of an ancient grandfather clock in the corner. I dare not look at Zane in case Father wrongly assumes he’s had any part of this mindset change.
Father drains the glass and sets it down. “And if I forbid it?”
I square my shoulders. “I’ll go, anyway.” A bluff, maybe. Or not. Even I’m not sure. “I’m your daughter and a Starling, but I am an adult.”
He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Your security detail would never allow it. Zane would have you on a plane back within the hour.”
“Then send him with me.” Desperation is growing dangerously close to escaping in my tone. “I’ll stay in a flat, somewhere safe. And I’ll check in every day. I just… need space.”
He considers, weighing options the way he would on a boardroom floor. “Zane would need to approve the location. No parties. No unauthorized visitors. You will answer every call. And he goes with you.”
I nod, unable to hide my relief, even if this means Zane has to go with me.
Father looks at me with something like pity. “It’s not easy, you know. This weight. You think I wanted this for you? That I ever wanted you to feel like you didn’t have choices?”
I look down at my hands, ashamed. “You never asked if I did.”
He’s quiet. Then, “Fine. Go. Take your summer.” To Zane, he says, “I want the address by tonight.”
Zane gives him a curt nod. “I know a seaside village. It’s small and quiet.”
“Perfect.” Father waves us both off and reaches for his phone. “You’re still expected at Selection Day. No more surprises, Helena.”
I leave before I can ruin the moment or risk my father changing his mind. “Well?” I ask Zane.
Zane shrugs. “Cornwall it is, then. The village is called ‘Seamuse.’ I think you’ll quite like it.” He chuckles some. “But I’m not carrying your nest kit.”
