Chapter 82: Fire in your household
It was the day of the banquet and Willow was found standing in front of her mirror, admiring the intricate designs of the dress she had chosen to wear.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Enter," she called out, not turning from the mirror.
The door swung open, and she watched in the reflection as her father stepped inside. He was dressed in his formal robes. His eyes swept over her dress in confusion.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
Willow turned to face him slowly.
"I am going to the banquet, Father."
Soren’s jaw tightened. "Did I not make myself clear? You are not to attend."
"Yes, you did." Willow smoothed a hand down the front of her gown, her smile serene. "But I decided I was going to go either way."
He stared at her, incredulously. "What is the meaning of this, Willow?"
She took a step closer, her voice dropping until it was barely above a whisper.
"You are such a hypocrite. To think you shame me for wanting and acting the way I do, but you, Father, are the worst of us all."
Willow made to brush past him but Soren’s hand shot out, closing around her arm.
"Get yourself together" He snapped. "Whatever is going on with you can wait until after the banquet. Then we will talk about it."
"There is nothing to talk about." Willow snatched her arm from his grip, her voice rising. "I know what you did to my mother."
Soren went completely still and for a long moment, he just stared at his daughter, his eyes searching hers for some sign that she was bluffing, that she did not truly know.
Willow watched the realization settle over him like a shroud.
"You are not even going to deny it?" she scoffed. "You are not going to try to lie your way out of it like you have done your entire miserable life?"
"Willow..."
"Like you said, Father, we will discuss this after the banquet." She lifted her chin, her eyes cold. "Excuse me."
She turned to walk away, but his hand shot out again, closing around her arm with bruising force. He yanked her back, spinning her to face him.
"Do not walk away from me while I am speaking to you."
Willow looked down at his hand on her arm, then up at his face. Her voice was ice.
"You will let go of me this instant, Father, or I will go to the Alpha and inform him that Ares is indeed your son."
Soren’s hand fell away from her arm as if she had burned him. His face went pale, the color draining from his cheeks so fast he looked like a ghost. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.
"How did you..." His voice cracked.
"Does it matter?" Willow smirked. "You have spent my entire life keeping secrets from me, treating me like a pawn in whatever game you are playing. But I am done being your pawn, Father. I am done being your puppet. From now on, I play my own game."
She turned and walked out of the room without looking back.
The door clicked shut behind her, and Soren stood alone in the silence, his hand still hanging in the air where it had fallen from her arm.
His own daughter... his own flesh and blood... and she knew.
How long had she known? How had she found out?. It did not matter how she had learned the truth. What mattered was that she knew, and she could destroy him with a single word.
Alistair, he thought. Fire in your household, he had said.
That bastard. What did he say to her? How much does she know?
Soren sank onto the edge of her bed, his head falling into his hands.
He had spent decades burying this secret. Decades lying to everyone he loved, everyone he served, everyone who trusted him. He had killed for it, betrayed for it, sacrificed everything for it.
And now, his own daughter held the blade at his throat.
...
The banquet hall blazed with light.
Hundreds of candles flickered in iron chandeliers, casting golden pools across the marble floor.
Willow stood at the edge of the hall, a glass of wine in her hand, watching the crowd.
"I see you were unable to get an escort too."
She turned to find Celeste at her side, dressed in a gown of deep crimson that matched the color of her lips. Her eyes glittered with barely concealed malice.
"I was not looking," Willow responded.
"Yeah, right." Celeste took a sip of her wine. "I tried to get Damon to escort me, and he refused me. Can you believe that? He refused me."
"He does not know what he is missing."
"Well, he would soon enough." Celeste’s smiled coldly.
Willow said nothing. Her gaze was already drifting across the room, searching the crowd for a familiar head of dark hair, a flash of green eyes. She had not seen Ares since she had arrived, and her heart hammered against her ribs at the thought of what she now knew.
Ares was her brother; her half-brother.
The man she had loved, desired, dreamed about for years was her own flesh and blood.
But what if the stranger had been lying? What if it had all been some cruel trick to hurt her, to manipulate her into turning against her father?
She had been willing to believe just for a second that he had been lying but her father’s reaction early said otherwise.
It was true.
Willow pressed her wine glass to her lips and drank deeply, letting the bitterness wash over her tongue.
"You have got to be kidding me."
Celeste’s voice cut through her thoughts. Willow followed her gaze toward the entrance of the hall, and her hand tightened around her glass.
Ayla stood in the doorway, and she was a vision.
She wore a gown of midnight blue that shimmered like starlight, the fabric pooling at her feet. The bodice was fitted, cut low enough to draw every eye in the room, and her dark hair had been swept into an intricate arrangement of braids and curls that cascaded down her back. Rubies glinted at her ears and throat, and her violet eyes swept the room with a confidence that made Willow’s blood boil.
And she was holding onto Damon’s arm.
Damon, whose eyes were fixed on Ayla like she was the only thing in the room as he guided her into the hall with a possessive hand at the small of her back.
Ares and Cassian followed, their faces carefully blank but one could tell with the way their eyes followed their brother and their mate that they wanted to be the ones standing at her side.
She had them all wrapped around her finger
"I am going to kill her."