Reborn I Refuse To Save The Traitors (Margaery) novel Chapter 129

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

As the weight of Estelle’s words settled in the air, Tema felt a chill run down her spine. “Tessa Margarry is set to marry Dominic, which means you will have no further dealings with him from this moment on. After all the chaos you’ve caused with Domic, you still have the audacity to show up today? You really are thick-skinned,” Estelle spat, her voice sharp enough to cut through the gathering’s excitement.

Tema had not anticipated that Estelle’s fury would be directed at her. A sense of tightness gripped her chest, yet she chose silence over confrontation. Lowering her gaze, she replied softly, “Yes, my fate is as insignificant as grass. Even if someone were to violate me, all I could do is retreat into the shadows and weep in solitude.”

Tessa, sensing the tension, deftly shifted the conversation, her gentle words laced with a subtle sting aimed at Estelle. “Who could possibly fault you for being so cherished and admired? All the princes and noble gentlemen present today have sung your praises. If it weren’t for your childhood engagement to Dominic, the matchmakers would have been knocking down the doors of the Wallen family by now.” As she spoke, her eyes flicked toward Bernard, a knowing glance that did not go unnoticed.

Estelle’s nails bit into her palm, a physical manifestation of her rising ire. The man she adored was infatuated with Margaery, leaving her and Tessa as two sides of the same coin, both vying for love and recognition. A tide of anger surged within her, twisting her expression into something unrecognizable. “What do you mean by that?” she demanded, unable to swallow her indignation.

Tessa’s eyes widened, her expression one of feigned innocence, as if she had merely lamented her own misfortunes without intending to provoke Estelle. The tension in the room thickened, and Estelle’s chest heaved with the effort of restraining her fury. She was acutely aware that losing her temper in such a public setting would not serve her well.

Tessa, on the other hand, wore a mask of calm, her internal thoughts sharpening like a blade. Weakness and humility could be wielded as weapons, and she had long since mastered their use. Estelle was free to unleash her wrath upon Margaery, but Tessa was not a woman to be easily dismissed.

Margaery observed the escalating conflict between the two, her anxiety mounting. “There shouldn’t be anyone else arriving, right? Why is her attitude so combative today?” she pondered, her mind racing.

“Are you in pain again?” a voice broke through her thoughts, a concerned inquiry that only added to her unease.

“Not at all,” Margaery replied, shaking her head vigorously. The more entangled their lives became, the more she feared something would go awry. “We need to get this party started officially,” she added, casting a glance at Seamus and Sophia, who stood nearby.

With an increasing number of unwelcome tensions brewing around the birthday celebration, Seamus stepped forward, his voice low and urgent. “Mother, to avoid any trouble, let’s begin the festivities.”

Sophia, equally displeased, nodded in agreement. “Yes, let’s begin the party.”

In an instant, a group of servants entered, carrying exquisite wine and dishes, their movements choreographed by the customs of the Eastvale Empire. Each guest was expected to present their offerings and birthday gifts to the celebrant before the festivities could commence. For the women, coffee served as the traditional starting point.

“Are you ready?” Dashnell inquired, casting a sidelong glance at Margaery, who felt the weight of the moment pressing down on her.

With the nobility in attendance, including Alicia, the Chancellor, and the Lord of Bites, Margaery found it increasingly difficult to maintain her composure. Each of them held the power to decide her fate, and she had no intention of succumbing to the same destiny that had befallen her before.

Previously, she had planned to learn the art of poison from Craig, preparing herself with lethal concoctions for self-defense. After he had broken off her engagement, she envisioned using poison as leverage to negotiate her terms, forcing herself to cross a treacherous bridge that could lead to her liberation.

That day had been pivotal for her. She turned to Dashnell and declared, “If you are ready, then I am.”

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