Reborn I Refuse To Save The Traitors (Margaery) novel Chapter 24

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

Raul had always been oblivious to the darkness lurking in the corners of his home, the chilling winds of despair that swept through the very souls of those he loved.

In the depths of winter, he had forced Margaery to kneel in the biting cold of a blizzard, left her to languish in the lumber room without a morsel to eat, and even contemplated tossing her into the dank cellar below.

“What kind of father does this?” Raul’s heart pounded violently in his chest, a sickening rhythm of guilt and dread.

His voice cracked, desperation spilling forth. “Margaery, it was wrong of me to lock you away. I take full responsibility. Please, don’t hate me. I know I’ve failed you.”

He turned to Avery, urgency lacing his tone. “You need to hurry! Go fetch some medicine for her!”

Tears welled in his eyes, cascading down his cheeks, a testament to the anguish he felt.

Yet, Margaery remained untouched by his sorrow, a chilling void where warmth used to reside.

“Speak plainly,” she interrupted, her voice devoid of any softness, her gaze cold and unyielding. “I have matters to attend to.”

Raul recoiled, confusion etched across his face. “Margaery, why do you keep your distance from me?”

Without a word, she turned her gaze to the window, her silence more telling than any words could be.

Their relationship had shifted into a chasm of estrangement, a chasm that felt insurmountable.

From this moment forth, she would no longer call him Father.

The pain in Raul’s heart was intensified by her icy demeanor. Realizing that he needed to confront the issue head-on, he took a deep breath and spoke with newfound resolve. “Margaery, I’m not angry with you for visiting the Royal Medical Hall today. It’s Avery who acted foolishly.

“I’ll ensure he apologizes to you later. But you must clarify what transpired between you and Prince Dashnell. Do you understand?”

The mere thought of Dashnell sent a shiver of unease racing through Raul.

On the surface, Dashnell appeared to be just another carefree royal, seemingly lacking any remarkable traits beyond the King’s favor.

Yet, beneath that facade lay a deep enigma.

Throughout countless days spent in court, Raul had never managed to decipher the true nature of the King’s youngest son. Dashnell was elusive, rarely seen and seldom heard, but when he did make a move, it was devastating.

Indeed, there were officials who had laughed and mingled with the King just days before their families faced execution and their properties were seized.

It took only a few carefully chosen words from Dashnell to condemn them to a lifetime of imprisonment, obliterating their entire lineages in the process.

Raul considered the implications of this. If he wished to ensure safety and stability, he needed to navigate the treacherous waters surrounding Margaery and Dashnell with utmost care.

He looked at his long-ignored daughter, a glimmer of sincerity breaking through his facade. “As long as I breathe, I’ll do anything for you. In a few days, the camellias in the palace will bloom beautifully. I’ll take you to see them.”

Margaery felt a flicker of longing for the life she had once envisioned, a life where such simple pleasures brought her joy.

Tears had once flowed freely as she begged for her father’s attention, pleading for him to bring Tessa to the palace and request the King to bestow upon her the title she so desperately desired.

Back then, she had been a fragile creature, weeping in the snow, her heart shattered.

But now, she felt numb, her heart encased in ice.

She had nothing to do with Prince Dashnell, Margaery scoffed inwardly, dismissing his apology as insincere.

If Dashnell had not been involved, Raul would have remained blissfully ignorant. Forget about apologies; he wouldn’t have even stirred from his slumber.

What truly terrified Raul was the fear of making a misstep and losing everything he had painstakingly built.

In this regard, he and his sons were undeniably cut from the same cloth; it was no wonder they shared blood. A hint of mockery danced on Margaery’s lips.

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