Reborn I Refuse To Save The Traitors (Margaery) novel Chapter 173

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

**Chapter 173**

After a lengthy conversation that felt both weighty and fleeting, Callum was the first to take his leave, striding purposefully toward the Imperial Guards. His mind was a swirl of thoughts, each one more pressing than the last, as he disappeared into the shadows of the night.

Tessa, on the other hand, emerged moments later, her movements stealthy as she made her way back to the Chancellor’s estate. The moonlight illuminated her path, casting an ethereal glow that made her seem almost otherworldly as she slipped past the guards.

Meanwhile, Wayne, restless and filled with a sense of urgency, left his post in search of Margaery. He had a nagging feeling that she was overthinking the situation, but as he eavesdropped on a conversation that unfolded before him, his assumptions were shattered. The words he overheard were like daggers, sharp and piercing: “Tessa wants to hire Prince Callum to commit murder. The targets are you and Russell.”

The revelation struck Wayne hard, and he turned to Margaery, his expression a tumult of emotions—confusion, concern, and a hint of fear.

Margaery, however, was unfazed. She had lived this nightmare before; in her previous life, she had uncovered Tessa’s dark secret only to be ensnared in a web of deceit that led to her untimely demise at the hands of Raul and his son. The knowledge that Russell now shared in this secret burden weighed heavily on her heart.

“What awaits him now is nothing but a dead end,” she thought bitterly, her mind racing through the implications of this newfound knowledge.

Seeing her lost in thought, Wayne couldn’t hold back his curiosity any longer. “Should we tell Lord Russell about this news?” he inquired, his voice laced with urgency.

For a fleeting moment, a surge of impulse washed over Margaery, tempting her to act. But she quickly quelled it, shaking her head resolutely. “It has nothing to do with us,” she replied, her voice steady, masking the turmoil within.

Wayne nodded, though he couldn’t help but feel the weight of their inaction. “Additionally, Prince Callum hopes Tessa will go to Raul’s study to retrieve something. Lady Margaery, can you guess what that item is?”

Margaery’s gaze turned toward the Chancellor’s estate, her mind racing. “It’s the defense map,” she stated, the realization dawning upon her like a storm cloud.

“If nothing unexpected has happened, the defense map should already be in Tessa’s hands. If Callum wants to obtain the defense map, he must act quickly…” The thought lingered in the air, heavy and foreboding. Tessa was not someone to be underestimated.

Changing the subject, Margaery asked, “Have they agreed on where to meet next?”

“The Banyia fabric store,” Wayne replied, his tone matter-of-fact, yet the tension in the air was palpable.

Margaery nodded, casting a glance toward Springcourt House. “Let’s go. We need to head back.”

Adam, who had been waiting patiently, responded with a hum of understanding and guided the carriage back to the inn.

As they made their way, a sudden commotion erupted near Springcourt House. Raul appeared, flanked by several men, urgency etched across his face as he barked orders, “Go over there and take a look!” His voice was sharp, cutting through the night air like a knife.

The group dispersed quickly, their faces a mixture of determination and fear. But they were soon halted by Callum’s men, who stood firm, blocking their path.

“Lord Chancellor, we’re here tonight to catch Frosthelm’s spies. Why have you brought people here?” one of the guards questioned, suspicion lacing his tone.

Callum stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he assessed Raul. A flicker of wariness danced in his gaze.

Raul’s heart raced. He glanced at the ruins of Springcourt House, his mind racing with the implications of his next words. “Catching spies?” he echoed, feigning ignorance while internally panicking. The King had mentioned Tessa’s visits to Springcourt House—seventeen times, to be exact. Was it possible she had met with Frosthelm’s spies?

The thought sent a shiver down his spine. He couldn’t admit that Tessa was there to meet them, could he?

After returning from the palace, he had rushed to find her, only to discover that she was nowhere to be found. The two maids had bickered, insisting she was inside, battling her gastritis once again. But when they had burst in to check, the room had been empty, and his unease had only deepened.

Now, standing before Callum, he felt trapped. If he asked whether Callum had seen Tessa, it could imply a connection between the Wallen family and Frosthelm. But if he remained silent and couldn’t find her, the gnawing anxiety would consume him.

In the end, he could only nod stiffly, forcing the words out, “I see. Then I won’t disturb you further.” With that, he turned and retreated, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts.

A mocking smile flickered across her heart as she replied, “Lord Chancellor, I fear you have forgotten. I am no longer connected to the Chancellor’s estate.”

“Your people are blocking my way,” she added, gesturing toward the servants from the Chancellor’s estate who hovered nearby.

Raul’s expression darkened, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Unable to utter another word, he glared at his lackeys. “Clear the way! Are you blind?” he barked, his voice laced with barely contained anger.

Margaery observed his humiliation, a trace of ridicule flashing in her eyes before vanishing. The servants stepped aside, and Margaery’s carriage glided past them, leaving Raul standing there, simmering with a mixture of rage and regret.

As the carriage disappeared around the corner, Callum, who had been watching the scene unfold, furrowed his brow in confusion. “It seemed that the person over there was Lady Margaery. Why is she there at such a late hour?” he mused aloud, but no one offered an answer.

The carriage was gone, and Callum felt a conflicted stir within him. He had once envisioned a future where Margaery would be by his side, a promise made in the hopes of ascending the throne together. He had envisioned her as his Queen, a partner in power. But now, with the King’s unexpected decree marrying her to Nathaniel, those dreams felt like ashes in his mouth.

His thoughts drifted to Angelina, the late Queen, whose memory lingered like a haunting melody. His royal father had been unable to forget her, going so far as to support Nathaniel despite the court’s reluctance.

If that was the case, then Callum thought darkly, he would ensure their demise.

A flash of coldness crossed Callum’s eyes as he ordered that the captured individuals and the bodies strewn across the ground be taken into the palace.

A grand procession of people made their way toward the royal palace, unaware of the watchful eyes observing their every move. Across the street, in a dimly lit coffeehouse, the King sat, his expression one of cold detachment. A shadow loomed behind him, breaking the silence.

“Reporting to the King, all those who escaped through the secret passage have been captured, except for Sonia, who committed suicide and is dead,” the shadow reported, voice steady.

The King snorted, his displeasure evident. “Return to the palace,” he commanded, though he had anticipated this outcome. Yet, witnessing Callum’s actions stirred a surge of anger within him, a reminder of the chaos that had unfolded.