Reborn I Refuse To Save The Traitors (Margaery) novel Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

As Margaery pushed Dashnell’s wheelchair through the quiet corridors, a carriage came into view, its polished surface gleaming under the dim light. She felt a flutter of anticipation mixed with uncertainty.

Adam Elkins, Dashnell’s steadfast guard, stepped forward, his demeanor formal as he offered a fist-to-heart salute. “Your Highness, please get in,” he urged, his eyes flickering towards Margaery with an intensity that made her uneasy.

Despite the years Adam had spent in Dashnell’s service, this was an unprecedented moment. Dashnell had never allowed a woman this close, much less permitted her to maneuver his wheelchair. Margaery sensed the weight of Adam’s gaze, something unspoken lingering in the air, but she dismissed it, letting go of the wheelchair and stepping aside.

With practiced ease, Adam assisted Dashnell into the carriage and folded the wheelchair with a swift motion.

“If you don’t mind, Lady Margaery, would you care to join us for the ride?” Dashnell’s voice drifted from within the carriage, ending with a polite “please” that raised immediate alarms in Margaery’s mind. Such courtesy was a rarity for someone of his royal stature.

“Lady Margaery, please,” he reiterated, his tone almost coaxing.

Adam had intended to help Margaery into the carriage as well, but he hesitated. Given Dashnell’s respectful invitation, he thought it best to refrain from overstepping his bounds.

Margaery, however, was more than capable of managing on her own. She may not have been the most formidable in a physical confrontation, but climbing into a carriage was hardly an insurmountable challenge.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” she replied, her voice steady as she prepared to step inside.

But just then, a hand extended from the carriage, beckoning her.

Margaery lifted her gaze to meet Dashnell’s. He sat there, his posture regal, an aura of icy beauty surrounding him. His calm, penetrating eyes seemed to ensnare her, pulling her closer as if by invisible strings. There was no turning back now.

Her eyes fell to his strong wrist, and she felt a warmth rise to her cheeks, a sensation she was not accustomed to. Hesitantly, she placed her hand in his palm, whispering, “Thank you.”

Before she could draw her hand back, his fingers closed around hers, firm yet gentle.

In a heartbeat, she found herself seated beside him, the carriage jolting to life. The world outside was obscured by the walls, yet Margaery felt a dizzying sensation wash over her, as though she were under a spell.

Curiosity compelled her to lift a corner of the curtain, peeking outside, but her heart raced uncontrollably, an erratic drumbeat in her chest.

Dashnell broke the silence, his voice low and contemplative. “Did you wear the warming gemstone I gave you yesterday?”

“Yes,” Margaery replied, nodding. The gemstone rested comfortably against her skin, radiating warmth that enveloped her like a cozy blanket.

“But Your Highness, such a precious gift is far too extravagant for someone like me to repay,” she added, a hint of embarrassment coloring her tone.

Dashnell remained silent, his expression unreadable, leaving Margaery to wonder what thoughts swirled in his mind. She sensed his gaze upon her, but the thought of turning to meet it filled her with trepidation.

As the carriage rolled on, they soon arrived at the Royal Medical Hall.

Unable to contain her curiosity, Margaery asked, “Why do you believe I was not the queen bee at home, but merely a punching bag?”

Their previous encounters replayed in her mind. He had helped her up without a hint of disdain, gifted her a gemstone, and now suggested she should have sought refuge in Craig sooner to escape the torment of her family.

It felt as though he had been an unseen witness to her struggles, despite his own limitations and the confines of his home.

Margaery pondered his true nature. ‘Was he truly as others portrayed him?’

Dashnell’s response was simple yet profound. “You do not appear to be someone who bullies others.”

His words struck her deeply, causing her eyes to glisten with unshed tears. She turned her gaze to the swirling snowstorm outside, her voice barely a whisper. “Your words mean more to me than you can imagine.”

In that moment, she realized that there were still souls in the world who believed in her goodness, who saw beyond the facade crafted by her family.

Even her father, brother, and fiancé had failed to see her worth, yet here was Dashnell, a man she had met only twice, standing resolutely by her side.

With a quick farewell, Margaery dashed towards the third row of rooms at the back. She pushed open a door and stepped inside.

Inside, over ten physicians bustled about, engaged in a flurry of activity. Some were writing prescriptions, others were poring over records, while a few gathered medicine, all in a whirlwind of urgency.

Avery was hunched over, deep in negotiation with Doctor Nolan Fischer, a man of seventy years, as he pleaded, “Doc… it’s not for me, but for my father? Just one glance at Tessa, that’s all I’m asking.”

“Margaery?” Avery’s voice broke through the commotion as he turned, surprised to see her.

His frown deepened as he pulled her aside. “What are you doing here? We need to talk outside.”

“No, we should address this here; it pertains to the Royal Medical Hall,” Margaery insisted, stepping away from his grasp and facing Doctor Fischer directly.

“Doctor Fischer, here’s the situation: my brother took a prescription I borrowed from someone else and placed it in the Royal Medical Hall’s storage.”

“What did you just say?” Nolan’s expression shifted from surprise to confusion as he turned to Avery. “Avery! What is happening here?”

Having led the Royal Medical Hall for over forty years, Nolan had never encountered a scenario where someone demanded answers in such a bold manner.

His brow furrowed, and Avery felt a wave of dread wash over him, fearing that everything was spiraling out of control.

“It’s not what it seems. Margaery is just being dramatic…” he stammered, forcing a few hollow laughs as he struggled to defend himself, but the words eluded him.

Seeing his flustered state, Margaery interjected, “Avery, I’m not being dramatic.”

“Those bruises on your face? That’s payment for swiping other people’s medical scripts last night, isn’t it? Now they want every single formula back, or they’ll beat me to a pulp. What’s your move?”

She stepped forward, her tone earnest, “Avery, don’t tell me you want me dead?”