Doth Mother Know You Weareth Her Drapes Novels & Stories

What could be so important that pushes her to sell us out and ruin all I’ve worked for? And more importantly, how does a son sentence his mother to death by the executioner’s blade? She starts to speak to me, but pleased gasps suddenly fill the air, drawing my attention to the double doors and the woman walking through. My body freezes. That dress…It’s the same one Jessamine wore at the ball. I’m on my feet before I even realize it, and my chest tightens with need as Moira clears the steps, her father holding her arm, leading her up to me.

A memory flashes through my mind. "Mom," I say in a small voice. "We should return the dress. I never manifested more powers. There is nothing to celebrate." "Don't be ridiculous, Willow," my mother responds with a smile. "One day, you will need a dress just like this. A dress for a very special occasion." "How will I know when I need the dress?" I ask my mother. "Your heart will tell you," she says with a sad smile. "The day you need this dress is the day that you will no longer need me or your father. Everything in Lycan City will just become a faded memory."

The dagger in his hand. I clutched the note to my chest, trying not to cry. Suddenly, the wardrobe doors swung open on their own. Inside, empty hangers swayed gently. Except one dress. A wedding dress. Ivory, simple, familiar. I hadn’t seen it in years—but I remembered. My mother wore that dress in her last photograph. And now it hung here. Fresh. Clean. Waiting. There was a sound. Behind me. Soft. Delicate. Footsteps.

"Crawling on the floor like a wounded animal for the sake of a girl who just tried to open your stitches." "She didn't know," I rasped, trying to shift my weight to stand. A white-hot needle of pain flared in my ribs, forcing me back down. "She never knows, does she?" Mother stepped into the room, the click of her heels sounding like a metronome. She stopped inches from us, the scent of her expensive, cloying perfume masking the metallic tang of my blood. "She didn't know you were drugged. She didn't know you were stabbed. She certainly didn't know that her 'truth' was hand-delivered by a woman on my payroll."

And lately, we’ve only spoken of one thing: how to get Nathan inside the Underworld to kill me. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asks for what feels like the hundredth time. We’re in her chambers, surrounded by soft yarn and piles of baby clothes. It’s a tradition I kept from my time with the Riding Hoods—mothers sewing clothes for their unborn children with the help of their best friend. This child won’t ever draw breath. But making the clothes gives us something to do. “It’s prophecy, Perse,” I reply softly. “It’s fate. There’s no stopping it.”

My mother could drug minds. Who was Mother?

I do have an Alpha to seduce after all. "You did well," my mother's voice comes from behind me and a smile spreads across my face. Turning around to greet her I am met with a slash of her claws down the front of my dress. Just enough to rip through the material and slice through the top layers of my skin. I hold my stomach as blood begins to drip down my favorite ball gown and I look at my mother in shock. "You must look the part, not just play it," my mother says as she disappears into the darkness. "You know what to do."

As I watched her take off her shoes, I instinctively stepped forward, ready to hang up her coat. It was my duty in this family. Standing before her, I spoke softly, "I was wrong. I'll work even harder in the future. Will you forgive me?" However, my words faded into the air. My mom did not hear a thing. Instead, she frowned slightly in irritation. "My ears suddenly feel itchy. Am I getting sick?" I stood there awkwardly, lowering my head to look at my own transparent body. I had almost forgotten. I was already dead, and no one could hear the words of the dead.

I was wearing a dress Julian had chosen for me—a deep, midnight blue silk that clung to every curve like a second skin. ​“You are the destination,” his voice whispered in the back of my mind. ​I touched the gold anklet beneath my sheer stockings. It felt like a shackle now. I knew the truth sitting in that ledger, yet here I was, getting dressed to play my part in his play. ​"Elara? Darling, are you ready?" My mother swept into the room, looking radiant in champagne lace. She looked younger, happier than I had seen her in years. It turned my stomach. How could she not see the coldness in the man she shared a bed with?

That single word shattered what little pride I had left. I sank back into my chair. My legs could no longer hold me up. The whispers around me grew sharper. “So she is just an ex. I thought she was about to announce she is his wife or something.” “Please. Look at her, then look at Don Dante. She was never in his league.” “Imagine getting dumped and still putting on a show. Did she really think dating a Don meant she would become his Donna?” “She was only a toy to pass the time.” I stared down at my left hand. The diamond on my wedding ring caught the light from the chandelier above.