<h4>Chapter 209: No Means to Teach a Child</h4>


    <strong><i>Meredith.</i></strong>


    As soon as Draven finished drying my hair, he handed the towel back to me with a quiet firmness. "Go inside," he said. "Let your maids finish it properly with the dryer."


    I stood up withoutint. For once, there was no anger boiling beneath my skin. No retorts. Just... calm.


    I murmured a soft "Thank you" and began walking back toward the house, holding the towel to my hair.


    Draven followed, but kept a polite distance—just enough not to crowd me, but close enough to be present.


    But I didn’t expect to cross paths with Wanda the second I walked into the house. Talk about a day going perfectly well.


    Wanda appeared from a small path on the side, arms folded and that insufferable smirk already tugging at her lips.


    "Well, well," she said, stepping directly into my path. "Looks like your marriage’s been falling aparttely, hasn’t it?"


    My lips parted—ready to slice her down with words—but before I could respond, Draven’s voice behind me cut through the air like a de.


    "How is that so?"


    I didn’t even notice he was that close.


    Immediately, the smirk melted from Wanda’s face in an instant. I saw her stiffen. Her eyes flicked past me to where Draven had stepped up beside me, tall and unreadable.


    And that, that tiny flicker of fear in her expression—it was delicious.


    Wanda stammered, grasping for footing. "I... I was only teasing Meredith, that’s all."


    Draven’s gaze didn’t shift. His voice dropped, deep and hard. "Don’t. Your jokes aren’t tolerable. And since you are not friends, your jokes are rather simr to twisted insults. Refrain from speaking that way to my wife."


    Wanda blinked. Her smile tried to return, but it was weaker now. "Of course, you’re right, Draven."


    Her eyes flitted to me, and she forced a brittle apology out of her throat. "Apologies, Meredith."


    I didn’t bother answering. I only tilted my head, returning her fake smile with one of my own.


    Now, she had to swallow it and y nice.


    Then, like the little coward she was, she pivoted to safer ground. "Any update on the secretb yet?" she asked Draven, voice honeyed as though the previous moment hadn’t happened.


    Draven didn’t miss a beat. "Nothing yet," he said tly. "If there are changes, everyone will be informed."


    Wanda nodded, trying to seem unaffected.


    But I saw the tightness in her jaw. The tension in her shoulders. She had just been publicly reminded of her ce—and worse, reminded that no matter what games she yed, I was still his wife.


    Then, Draven reached out and gently took my hand.


    "Come," he said simply.


    I didn’t say a word. I let him guide me past Wanda, keeping my chin high and my expression unreadable.


    But in my head?


    Iughed because I could already picture how it must have stung her to be told off like that, in broad daylight, with me standing beside the man she desperately wanted—and being chosen over her, yet again.


    Let her stew in it.


    Let her smile through the pain.


    It was the only thing keeping her standing right now. And oh, how sweet it was.


    ---


    Dinner was still half an hour away, and my room smelled faintly of jasmine and warm wood from the bath I’d taken earlier.


    My hair had already been brushed and twisted into soft waves by Deidra, and now Azul was gently adjusting the sleeves of my dark blue dress, smoothing the fabric along my arm.


    "Perfect," she whispered, stepping back to examine me. "You look radiant, mydy."


    I gave her a small smile. "Thank you."


    It had taken longer than I’d like to admit to choose this dress. Not because I wanted to impress anyone—but because I needed to feelposed, dignified.


    I’d spent two weeks unravelling, and now that the threads had finally been stitched back together, I wanted the seams to hold.


    "Ready for dinner?" Azul asked, picking up the shawl that matched my dress.


    "Yes, we can leave now."


    We left the room together. Azul followed a few steps behind as we descended the grand staircase. But as we reached thending of the second floor, I heard a small cry.


    A small, muffled cry. It was faint at first, but unmistakably childlike and filled with grief.


    I paused, my steps halting as the sound pulled at something soft and uneasy inside me. Then, I turned toward the hallway.


    "Mydy," Azul called gently, her voice catching with concern. "You know Alpha Draven’s rule... Everyone is to stay away from the child."


    I turned halfway to nce at her. She looked torn, shifting from one foot to the other.


    Azul continued in a worried voice, "And now that you and the Alpha have only just mended things, it might not be wise to cross him so soon—"


    "We are on good terms now," I cut in calmly. "And I’m not trying to break rules. I just want to know why she’s crying."


    Azul hesitated, then dipped her head. "Of course, mydy."


    The cries had lessened now, but hadn’t stoppedpletely. I walked toward the room where I knew Xamira had been kept since the day she was banned from the dining hall.


    Her door stood slightly ajar. I raised my hand and knocked gently.


    The crying faded to soft sniffles almost immediately.


    A momentter, the door creaked open, and Xamira’s nanny peered out. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise before she quickly dipped her head.


    "Mydy," she greeted.


    "What’s wrong with Xamira?" I asked, lowering my voice. "Why is she crying?"


    She stepped aside slightly but didn’t open the door further. "She’s... just upset again. She was asking for the Alpha. She wants to dine with him. She’s been crying since I set her dinner before her."


    I blinked. "She still wants to sit at the table with him?"


    Xamira’s nanny nodded, her voice gentle. "Every night. She waits... and every night, she asks."


    The weight settled on my chest before I could stop it. Poor thing.


    I had no fondness for how she had acted toward me that day by the pool. What she did had been cruel and dangerous.


    But I still remember the words that hade out of her mouth—sharp, hateful—the other day, way before the pool incident. They were someone else’s.


    Wanda had nted the seed. Draven had just chopped off the leave, but the root had never been Xamira.


    And now, she cried every evening, hoping for something as simple as a seat beside her father.


    It had been a few months of silence for her too.


    A sigh slipped from my lips.


    My gaze drifted over the nanny’s shoulder, into the dim room beyond, but Xamira was nowhere in sight. The whimpers had faded, leaving only a hollow quiet.


    I nodded to the nanny. "Thank you. That’s all I needed to know."


    She bowed again as I turned away.


    I walked back toward the stairs in silence, Azul’s presence a quiet shadow behind me. But in my mind, a decision had already rooted itself.


    Tonight, I had to speak to Draven concerning Xamira. The punishment was excessive now.


    And this is by no means to teach a child a lesson about the consequences of doing evil.