Chapter 78: Willow’s Dilemma
"Did you not say your father commanded you not to show up to the banquet?" Celeste asked, plopping herself on Willow’s bed.
"Yes, he did." Willow smiled at her reflection in the mirror.
She had decided on a gown of deep burgundy silk that pooled at her feet like spilled wine.
The bodice was fitted, cut low enough to turn heads, and the sleeves hung loose from her shoulders, baring the smooth column of her throat. Rubies glinted at her ears and throat, and her blonde hair had been swept up, its curls cascading down her back.
She looked like a queen.
"And you still plan to attend either ways?"
"Yes, I do." Willow turned from the mirror, her lips curving into a smile.
Celeste stared at her. "You are going to disobey your father."
"I am going to disobey my father." Willow concurred, sweeping past her toward the door. "Now, let us head over to the dresser so I can buy a dress that would stun the whole pack."
Celeste scrambled to her feet, falling into step beside her. "What are you not telling me?"
Willow’s steps did not falter. "It is hardly important, but my father would no longer be able to stop me from doing anything that I want to do."
Celeste’s eyebrows shot up. "If that is the case, I have news for you."
"What is it?"
"I found something that would take care of our problem permanently."
"Our problem?" Willow echoed.
Celeste rolled her eyes. "Ayla"
"Oh," Willow said, absentmindedly.
"Oh?" Celeste repeated. "That is all you have to say? I have been scheming for days, and all I get is ’oh’?"
"Sorry." Willow waved a hand. "I am a little distracted."
"What could possibly be more important than getting rid of that bitch?"
Willow did not answer. She could not very well say maybe because the boy I am in love with is my stepbrother. The thought had been rattling around her skull since the masked stranger had said it to her then disappeared before she could call him a liar to his face.
They reached the dress shop, and Celeste pushed the door open.
"Nothing," she said at last. "You are right. What is the plan? What will get her out of our lives for good?"
"Speak of the devil," Celeste muttered under her breath.
Willow followed her gaze.
Ayla stood at the far end of the shop, draped in a length of pale lavender silk that the dressmaker was pinning at her shoulders. Brenna, her mother was beside her, gesturing with sharp, impatient movements, her mouth moving in a stream of instructions that the poor seamstress was scrambling to follow.
Willow’s blood boiled.
She strutted in, her heels clicking against the wooden floor, her chin lifted.
"Denise." she called out. "I had no idea you now attend to the lowborns of the pack. I will have to get my dresses from someplace else."
The dressmaker froze, her hands hovering over Ayla’s shoulder. "Lady Willow, I..."
Ayla’s mother turned, and her lips curved into a sugary smile that did not reach her eyes. "You are the picture of cheer as always, Willow Hale."
"Do not speak to me, you slut." Willow snarled with contempt.
"Slut?" Brenna scoffed. "You have some fucking nerve, child and..."
"Mom" Ayla cut in. "Let us not. We should leave... we have what we came for."
"Yes, scurry away like the cockroaches you are." Celeste interjected , folding her arms across her chest.
Brenna’s eyes narrowed.
"You know, you may blame me for what happened to your mother, but you should ask your father."
"Excuse me?" Willow scoffed.
"Gia would never have killed herself. She was never that kind of person and I should know because she was my best friend."
Willow stared at her as she and Ayla walked out of the dress shop.
"She has some nerve" Celeste’s voice jolted her. "Talking about your mother like they were familiar."
"Yeah" Willow murmured, her eyes fixed on the door. "Some nerve"
mentioning your mother’s name."
"Yeah," Willow said slowly, her eyes fixed on the door where Brenna had disappeared. "Some nerve."
...
Willow did not go straight back to her chambers after leaving the dress shop.
She told Celeste she needed air and headed to the healing chambers.
She pushed the door open.
Master Aldric looked up from his worktable.
"Lady Willow." He blinked in surprise. "What brings you here? Is everything alright?"
"I am fine." Willow stepped inside, letting the door fall shut behind her. "I came to ask you a question."
"Of course. What is it?"
"If a person dies of something, say suicide... is it possible to determine if that person was murdered and then made to look like they committed suicide?"
"That is a very objective question, Willow. Can I ask why you are asking?"
"You can but I am not obliged to answer you... at least not truthfully."
Master Aldric stared at her, waiting.
"Fine. I just... you ruled my mother’s death as suicide, did you not?"
"Yes, I did."
"But is it possible that she may have been murdered?"
Master Aldric’s eyes widened at this. "No, Willow. Your mother, goddess rest her beautiful soul, was hanging from the ceiling when she was found. There was no question about how she died."
"Yes, I know that. I found her body but is it possible..." Willow pressed. "that she may have been strung there after death?"
Master Aldric stared at her.
"Why are you asking such questions?" he asked.
"Just answer me, please."
Master Aldric studied her for a long moment, his eyes searching her face then he let out a slow breath.
"In theory, it is very possible that your mother may have been killed and put up there to make it look like suicide."
Willow felt her heart drop to her chest.
"But I examined your mother myself and there was nothing to suggest foul play."
"But did my mother seem to you like she would take her own life, Master Aldric?"
"Willow, one cannot possibly determine what the other person would do and..."
Willow nodded at this.
"Thank you for your time, Master Aldric." she cut him off, turning around to leave.
She walked out of the healing chambers, her heart pounding in her chest.
Her father...
Her father was not only a liar, he was also a murderer.