Chapter 346: What Are They Plotting?
Meredith.
Xamira’s little hand was warm in mine as we stepped out of the house.
The morning air carried the soft bite of dew, and she hummed to herself as we walked, swinging our joined hands.
And that was when I spotted Dennis.
He was coming up from the direction of the training grounds with dust clinging to his shirt and a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
He looked... satisfied. The kind of mood Dennis only carried when something had gone entirely his way.
"Good morning," I greeted, narrowing my eyes at him. "You look rather pleased with yourself. Should I ask why?"
He chuckled, tilting his head. "Just a good day, that’s all. The sun is shining, and the air is crisp. You know me, Meredith—simple pleasures."
I raised a brow. "You? Content with simple pleasures? That would be a first."
He laughed, low and unbothered, clearly unwilling to give me more.
But before I could press, Xamira piped up, tugging at my hand. "Uncle Dennis!" she chirped, her violet eyes bright. "Would you come with my lady and I to the garden? We are going to pick flowers."
Dennis crouched a little to her height, his grin softening as he reached out and touched her cheek. "Tempting, princess. But your uncle needs a wash and a change of clothes first. Another time, hmm?"
Her shoulders slumped a little. "Promise?"
"Promise," he said warmly, straightening again. With a wink at me, he strode past us into the house, leaving only the scent of sweat and dust behind.
I shook my head, amused despite myself. Dennis, in a good mood, was always suspicious.
"Come on," I murmured to Xamira, and we continued down the stone path toward the garden.
But it didn’t even reach up to five seconds when I saw my brother.
He was coming toward us from the opposite direction, his face battered, bruises blooming across his skin, one eye swelling shut.
His clothes were smeared with dirt, and his steps sharp and heavy with rage.
Xamira gasped, clutching my hand tighter.
And I... I could only stare, my stomach sinking, already suspecting that Dennis’s good mood and Gary’s battered state were far from coincidence.
"My lady, what happened to him?" Xamira asked, pressing into my side.
I quickly neutralized my expression, even as my mind supplied the obvious answer. Dennis.
But I didn’t ask my brother. I would never do that, so I held my tongue.
We walked past one another without a word. His glare slid briefly to me, then down to Xamira, before he jerked his gaze away and stormed on toward the house.
I exhaled slowly, feeling the weight in the air settle behind us.
"Come," I murmured to Xamira, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "The garden’s waiting."
But as we turned toward the rows of blooms, I couldn’t shake the thought: Did Dennis do all that to Gary?
---
The garden was quiet, a sanctuary of green tucked behind stone walls. The roses were in bloom, their crimson petals catching the sunlight, while clusters of white lilies swayed gently in the breeze.
Xamira hurried ahead, her earlier fright already forgotten, and crouched beside a patch of wildflowers.
"Look, my lady," she called, plucking one with delicate fingers. "This one looks like the sun."
I smiled faintly, moving to kneel beside her. The flower was small and yellow, its petals uneven, imperfect—and yet she was right.
"It does," I said softly, brushing her hair back from her face.
She grinned up at me, her violet eyes sparkling. "I’m going to make you a crown."
I laughed under my breath, letting her gather more flowers, watching the way her little hands worked so carefully, so intent on her task.
It struck me, then, how she could find joy so easily—even after seeing Gary’s battered face only moments ago.
"Xamira," I murmured, my gaze on the blooms, "you’re stronger than you know."
She tilted her head, curious. "Because I make crowns?"
"Because you smile when others would frown," I told her, pressing a kiss to the top of her hair.
Her cheeks flushed, and she bent quickly to hide her face, busying herself with the flowers again.
I leaned back on my heels, letting the breeze wash over me as the scent of roses and earth filled my lungs.
Xamira hummed softly as she worked, her small fingers weaving the stems together with surprising patience.
Every so often, she glanced up at me, her tongue peeking out between her lips in concentration.
At last, she held up her creation with both hands. A crown of uneven wildflowers, a little lopsided, but beautiful all the same.
"All done!" she announced proudly.
I chuckled. "It’s lovely."
"Not yet," she insisted, and then, with all the solemnity of a priestess, she stood on tiptoe and placed it carefully on my head. "Now it’s lovely."
The flowers tickled my forehead, the petals brushing against my hair. Xamira stepped back, clasping her hands together as her eyes lit with delight.
"There," she declared, voice ringing in the quiet garden. "Now you look like a real Queen."
The words struck something deep inside me. It was only Draven and Valmora that have referred to me as Queen.
But hearing it from Xamira, innocent and unguarded, felt different like a truth spoken aloud for the first time.
I reached for her, pulling her gently into my lap. "A Queen, hmm?" I murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
She nodded eagerly, her voice muffled against my shoulder. "My Queen. Always."
My throat tightened. I pressed my cheek to her hair, holding her close as the garden swayed around us in the morning breeze, the scent of flowers and earth wrapping around us like a cocoon.
Then the sound of footsteps on gravel reached my ears. I lifted my head to see Cora approaching, her posture straight.
She bowed respectfully, her voice warm. "My lady." Her eyes flicked to the crown of wildflowers perched on my head, and a smile broke through her calm. "It suits you. You look radiant."
I touched the crown lightly, unable to help my own small smile. "Thank you, Cora."
Xamira sat up in my lap, grinning. "I made it for her!"
Cora’s smile deepened. "Then you’ve done a fine job, little one."
I brushed my fingers along Xamira’s cheek before turning back to Cora. "Where is my husband?"
"The Alpha is on the terrace with his brother," she replied smoothly.
For a moment, I stilled. ’With his brother? Dennis?’
Dennis, fresh from whatever had left Gary battered and seething, was now sitting with Draven.
A thread of suspicion coiled in my chest. ’Was this a coincidence?’ I doubted it.
Then, I looked down at Xamira, still clutching a handful of wildflowers, then back at Cora. I held my smile, but inwardly, my thoughts sharpened.
If Dennis was indeed the cause of Gary’s condition, and he had gone straight to Draven after, what exactly were the two of them plotting?