Chapter Twenty- That of Poison and Roses

Busy.

Busy.

Busy.

It's the reason I haven't spoken with my mother until now, and I realize that nothing has changed. With the Burial Ceremony tomorrow, Queen Thorne is feeling more burdened than ever.

Of course she's too busy, when I finally need her.

It's more important to her that father has a proper royal burial than her daughter's grief and confusion.

After breakfast, I'd found my way to a study of sorts where my mother was anxiously gazing over several shades of silver fabric. Burial cloths, I realized. Her auburn hair hung to the side in its signature braid. Nothing was out of order. Just a busy woman. The grief in her eyes is barely perceptible, because she's perfected the mask of royalty.

"Oh, Aily darling," she sighs as I walk in, "Lovely timing. Now, do you think this cloth would work better for the ceremony, or this one? See, I think that-"

"Mother," I cut her off, "Is there any way this can wait? I need to talk to you."

She lets out a deep breath, doing little to hide her annoyance. "Yes, love. What was it?"

I hesitate, realizing I should've planned what to say a bit better. "They..." I decide the truth is best, "They've determined that Father died of Scarshade poisoning. So, I was wondering if... neither of you would've had reason to bring any over, right?"

"Ah, you ask such silly questions, dear." She goes back to her silver fabrics, realizing that her daughter is not worthy of her current attention. "Of course not."

"Are you sure?" I pry, "Not even for trade purposes, or... or self defense?"

"Aily," her voice is firm as she sets the cloth down. "This is a job for the Royal Guard. They'll figure out who killed your father. Solving a murder is no job for a princess. Now, do you have your dress for tomorrow?"

"Mother, I... it's not hurting anyone by looking for answers."

"It's hurting you. You should be focusing on other matters right now, Aily. Now, you never answered my question about your dress."

"Yes, I have the dress." 

"Good, now if you'll excuse me, this Burial Ceremony won't plan itself."

I take that as my que to leave, my mind burning with questions from the short-lived conversation with my mother. She was adamant that I was not to be working on this case, not to be devoting a single second of my life to finding my father's killer. 

She was adamant, evasive at times.

The question is, why?