Chapter 76: And so it begins
"You cannot do that!"
Willow’s voice rose to a pitch that echoed through her father’s study, bouncing off the walls.
"Too bad, Willow Hale, I already did." Soren did not look up from the papers on his desk. His quill moved across the page with deliberate slowness. "You will not be seen at the banquet beginning in two days. You will be confined to your room where you will think about what you have done and the disrespect you are so intent on heaping on this family. Is that fucking understood?"
Willow’s hands curled into fists at her sides and her chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths.
"I did nothing! Celeste brought her to me and I did nothing..."
"Am I to assume the wounds she sustained and the red blotch across her face are not your handwork, daughter?" Soren raised his head slowly, his eyes pinned his daughter where she stood. "Do you take me for a fool?"
"Father..."
"No. I have made my decision. I cannot let you keep running amok and ruining everything I am trying to make happen. You are not going to the banquet."
The tears came then before she could stop them.
"Why do you always do this?" Her voice cracked. "You are the worst father on earth."
Soren’s jaw tightened.
"Save your tears, Willow. My decision is final."
"Fine." She muttered, straightening. "Now may I be excused?"
"You are excused."
Willow dipped into a mock bow, the gesture dripping with contempt. "Thank you, Father. "
She turned and walked out.
Soren stared at the closed door and guilt settled in his chest. Maybe he had been too harsh but he could not afford to soften now, not when the banquet was two days away. He had to make sure Alistair was out of the pack soon.
He would explain everything to her later.
When it was all over.
...
Willow did not stop walking until she reached the edge of the compound.
The old oak stood at the bend of the stream, its branches dipping low over the water. She had come here as a child, when her mother was still alive, back when the world had made sense.
She sank onto the mossy bank, hugged her knees to her chest, and let the tears come.
A twig snapped behind her and Willow head short up.
She whirled around, her heart leaping into her throat.
A man stood at the edge of the treeline.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in dark clothes that blended with the shadows and a mask covered the lower half of his face, leaving only his eyes visible which were fixed on her with an intensity that made her skin prickle.
"Who are you?"
The man’s eyes crinkled at the corners. He was smiling beneath that mask; she could feel it.
"Why is a beautiful lady such as you crying here all alone?"
"Beautiful ladies do not have to answer to masked strangers." Willow shot at him.
He let out a low chuckle that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.
"I suppose they do not." He moved closer, slowly, his hands raised slightly in a gesture of peace. "I saw you from across the grounds and I could not help but wonder what could possibly bring tears to such lovely eyes."
Willow studied him. There was something about the way he moved, the easy confidence in his stance, that made her think he was used to getting what he wanted.
"May I sit?"
Before she could respond, he had lowered himself onto the moss beside her.
"So tell me all about it"
Willow stared at him.
She should send him away, she thought. She should stand up, walk back to the compound, and pretend she had never seen him.
"It’s okay, I am just going to listen." he reassured her.
Willow sighed .
"My father has forbidden me from attending the banquet in two days." she declared.
The stranger’s eyebrow arched at this. "Why would he do that?"
"Why does he do anything?" Willow scoffed. She turned to face the water, her knees drawn up to her chest. "He hates me, is what. He sees me as property to make himself look good, but he acts nothing like a father should. He keeps secrets. He makes decisions that affect my life without telling me why and when I push back, he locks me in my room like a child."
A tear slipped down her cheek.
The stranger reached out and brushed it away.
Willow jolted at the contact, her head snapping toward him. His gray eyes held hers, and she forgot, for a moment, to breathe.
"I don’t know why I am telling you all this," she whispered. "I don’t even know who you are."
"It doesn’t matter who I am."
She looked at him. At the strong line of his jaw above the mask, at the way the light caught his eyes, at the way his presence made her feel seen in a way she had not felt in years.
"I just want one thing," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "And my father has also forbidden that."
"What do you want?"
Willow’s throat tightened. She looked down at her hands, at the fingers she had twisted together in her lap.
"To love and be loved by Ares," she murmured.
The stranger seemed surprised by her words. "The prince?"
"Yes." She let out a shaky breath. "But my father thinks I should stay away from him too."
"Have you asked him why?"
"He refuses to tell me which is amongst the many things he is keeping from me"
The stranger chuckled.
Willow’s head snapped up, frowning. "What is funny?"
"Oh Willow..." He drawled, rising to his feet.
Willow’s eyes widened.
"Wait, how do you know my name? Who are you?" she jumped up to her feet.
"I will just tell you this and only because I think you deserve to know. Your father disapproves of your love for Ares because he is your brother."