Reborn I Refuse To Save The Traitors (Margaery) novel Chapter 122

**TITLE: Whispers Shape Distant Tomorrows by Aren Cole Vale**

The stakes were high, and the Fudgy was on the line. Margaery understood the gravity of the situation; she had to heed the commands of those in power.

“Thank you,” Margaery uttered, her voice laced with a hint of sincerity, though deep down, she remained skeptical of the weight of her words.

In her mind, she pondered the essentials of life—food, clothing, and the daily necessities that everyone seemed to value so dearly. But for her, a woman with fragile strength striving to carve out her own identity in these tumultuous times, the garments she wore and the items she possessed felt trivial. What truly mattered was her spirit and determination to rise above her circumstances.

Her master, though of humble origins, had a spirit that could not be contained. He had once confronted the son of the chancellor, forcing the proud Chancellor himself to kneel outside their gate for an entire day and night. It was a striking reminder of the power dynamics that swirled around her, and she resolved that once her wounds healed, she would dedicate herself to mastering the arts of medicine and combat. She longed for the day when she could stand on her own two feet, no longer tethered to the strength of others or reliant on their goodwill.

As she settled into the plush couch before the warming brazier, the maids and servants attended to her with a flurry of activity, bringing her food and drink, their gentle hands ensuring she was comfortable.

Just then, a voice rang out from outside, startling her. “Who are these people? Why are they carrying measuring tapes and bolts of fabric?” It was Dad Tranter, his surprise palpable.

Before Margaery could respond, the door swung open, revealing a group of matronly figures who greeted her with an air of importance. “Madam,” they said, their demeanor exuding authority and grace.

Joshua’s voice cut through the murmurs. “They are matrons from the palace, as well as the palace seamstresses. Perhaps they have come to take measurements and gather materials for Lady Sophia.”

He was speculating, of course, as there were family matters that he was not privy to.

Tessa, overhearing the conversation, felt a twinge of anxiety. “They’ve come to take measurements for Margaery?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. Memories flooded back to her—when the palace matrons had come to her, measuring her for a dress that would steal Margaery’s spotlight.

Dominic had assured her then that Aleis herself had sent people to craft her wedding dress. But now, the tides had turned, and Tessa felt the sting of betrayal as she watched Margaery being treated like royalty, while she herself faded into the background.

Tears threatened to spill from Tessa’s eyes, and her heart ached. “It’s alright,” Dominic murmured, sensing her distress. “The clothes will be made for you too, I promise. I won’t let you be overshadowed.”

He leaned in closer, his voice low and comforting. “After all, I won’t allow Margaery to outshine you.”

“Mmm, thank you, Joshua,” Tessa replied weakly, leaning into his embrace. Joshua’s heart raced, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, providing a moment of solace amidst the chaos.

Just as they turned to leave, one of the matrons spoke again, her voice clear and commanding. “Madam, Lady Alicia has sent us to take measurements and gather materials for Lady Margaery.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Tessa felt the ground shift beneath her. They were here for Margaery, the esteemed young lady of the Chancellor’s estate, the future matriarch of the Hadley family. What did that make her? Just a secondary character in someone else’s story? The bitterness coiled in her stomach.

She could still recall the day when Alicia had sent palace matrons to her, teasing Margaery with her fabric choices. Now, the palace had sent extra hands to cater to Margaery’s needs, and the Hadley family seemed to worship her like a deity. Who was Tessa in this grand narrative?

The realization hit her hard, and she felt as if she had been slapped across the face. Yet, she steeled herself. What did it matter if they made a few garments? Her true intention was far more sinister—she would find a way to dismantle the impending marriage between Margaery and Dominic.

Tessa fell silent, feeling the weight of their scrutiny. They held her hand, their expressions kind yet distant.

Last time she had visited, Sophia and Yvette had fussed over her health, attending to her every need with genuine care.

But now, their attitudes had shifted, and she couldn’t help but blame Margaery for it. Tessa narrowed her eyes, but she maintained her composure. “Since arriving in Sinderin City, you both have treated me so kindly. Today is Lady Sophia’s birthday celebration; how could I possibly miss it?”

“Even with a minor stomach ailment, if I can walk, I will find a way to be here,” she declared, her words exaggerated yet tinged with sincerity. The faint traces of tears in her eyes lent her a vulnerable air, striking a chord in Sophia’s heart.

Sophia nodded, her tone softening. “You are indeed a good girl. It’s a pity…” she trailed off, unable to voice the rest.

The Hadley family was singularly focused on welcoming Margaery into their fold, not on appeasing Tessa. Sophia glanced at Margaery, who was being measured for her new garments, while Tessa clenched her fingers tightly, her heart filled with a mix of emotions.

Margaery sat patiently, allowing the seamstresses to take her measurements before sinking into the soft couch, her mind racing with thoughts of the future. She was no longer just a girl; she was stepping into a role of power.

As the seamstresses buzzed around her, Margaery felt a sense of clarity wash over her. Power was intoxicating, but she was determined not to rely on anyone else’s strength. She wanted to rise on her own, to forge her own path, and to hold the reins of her destiny firmly in her grasp.

The others watched her, their expressions a mix of admiration and confusion. Tessa, however, sat alone, consumed by the way everyone gravitated toward Margaery, as if she were the sun and they mere planets in her orbit. Jealousy and resentment churned within her, threatening to spill over as she plotted her next move.