Reborn I Refuse To Save The Traitors (Margaery) novel Chapter 74

**Whispers Shape Distant Tomorrows by Aren Cole Vale**
**Chapter 74: Don’t Let Him Go**

The afternoon breeze howled with an intensity that mirrored the turmoil brewing within the hearts of the Wallen family. It swept through the trees, carrying with it an ominous sense of urgency that seemed to envelop the entire estate.

Desperation hung heavy in the air as every member of the Wallen family frantically searched for Margaery. Their anxiety was echoed by the Hadley family, who, despite their own alarm, were careful to keep their concerns hidden. They dispatched their servants to scour the area, all while fearing the wrath of the King should word of Margaery’s disappearance reach his ears. The stakes were high, and both families found themselves united in their loathing for Clyde.

Meanwhile, Margaery lay unconscious, her sleep fraught with restlessness. Her delicate brows knitted together in distress, and every now and then, a soft whisper escaped her lips. “Mother…” The single word was a haunting refrain that pierced through the stillness of the room.

Each time she murmured that word, Dashnell felt a sharp pang in his heart—a pain so profound that it threatened to consume him. It was as if every utterance of her name was a reminder of his failure to protect her, and the weight of that realization was nearly unbearable.

After what felt like an eternity, Leandro Robertson returned, his expression grave as he knelt before Dashnell, the weight of guilt evident in his posture. “Your Highness, this is entirely my fault. I was tasked with keeping Lady Margaery safe, and I failed her. Clyde was able to reach her, and I deserve whatever punishment you deem appropriate,” he said, his voice quaking with remorse.

Leandro had been stationed outside the Chancellor’s estate, under strict orders to ensure Margaery’s safety. Yet, he had never anticipated that Clyde would lose control and lash out so violently. By the time the chaos unfolded, Adam had already dispatched men to hunt down the assailant responsible for Margaery’s plight.

As the head of the Thirteen Shades, Leandro had prided himself on his vigilance, but this blunder weighed heavily upon him. Now, as he knelt before Dashnell, he trembled with dread, fully aware of the gravity of his failure.

“Before I accept any punishment, I demand that Clyde’s life hangs by a thread,” Dashnell declared, his voice icy and resolute.

Inside the dimly lit room, Dashnell’s eyes were half-closed, his expression inscrutable, yet the menace behind his words was palpable. It was a calmness that belied the storm brewing within him, a fury so profound that it rendered him almost indifferent to the chaos around him.

When pain reached its zenith, he found himself unable to shed tears. When rage surged through him, he could not even muster a shout. All that remained was a singular, chilling intent to kill.

“At once, Your Highness!” Leandro responded, his voice firm with determination as he sprang to his feet, not daring to linger for even a heartbeat longer. He dashed from the courtyard, urgency propelling him forward.

Craig turned to Dashnell, his brow furrowing in concern. “Are you truly considering confronting Clyde directly?” he asked, his voice laced with apprehension. “Have you thought through the potential consequences of such an action?”

The thought lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken fears. Both Craig and Dashnell were acutely aware of the precariousness of their situation.

But at that moment, none of those considerations mattered to Dashnell. His gaze fell upon Margaery, lying still on the bed. He gently tucked the blanket around her, a protective gesture that spoke volumes of his feelings. “If I cannot even safeguard her, then what purpose does the throne serve? Why wait for the opportune moment?” he mused aloud, his voice thick with emotion.

Craig nodded in silent understanding. “If you are resolute in your decision, then act upon it. I will stand by your side, no matter the outcome.”

Dashnell offered a slight nod, his focus unwavering as he continued to watch over Margaery’s serene face.

Just then, a voice broke through the tension, calling from outside the door. “Excuse me, is Margaery here?”

It was Raul, stepping for the first time into this part of the city—a place teeming with beggars and despair. He stood before the rickety wooden door, momentarily taken aback by the stark contrast between his world and the one beyond.

‘The miracle doctor who could conjure healing at a moment’s notice actually resides in a place like this?’ he thought, disbelief etched across his features.

He craned his neck, peering cautiously inside, and was met by Craig’s voice. “It’s Raul,” he announced, his tone flat.

Craig exchanged a glance with Dashnell, who maneuvered himself back into his wheelchair. Craig stepped outside to confront the man approaching. “Lord Chancellor, even amidst your busy schedule, you can’t spare a moment for your own daughter? What brings you to such a dismal place?”

“Is Margaery here?” Raul inquired, his eyes locked onto Craig’s, a sense of urgency clouding his features.

Before arriving, Raul had harbored suspicions that Margaery might be Craig’s daughter. He had even entertained the thought that Craig could be his wife’s childhood sweetheart. But upon seeing Craig in person, Raul quickly realized that the man before him was no longer the figure he remembered. Craig appeared older, his frame gaunt, yet his eyes sparkled with a fierce intensity. Dressed differently, he could easily be mistaken for a wise sage from ancient tales rather than a beggar.

Raul scrutinized him for a moment, attempting to piece together the puzzle, but ultimately, he could only manage, “I’m here to see Margaery.”

“You truly have the audacity to seek her out?” Craig’s voice trembled, fists clenched tightly at his sides, his sleeves fluttering with barely contained rage. If not for the last vestiges of reason holding him back, he might have struck Raul down in that very instant.

‘He does not deserve the title of father,’ Craig thought, fury boiling just beneath the surface.

He could never bring himself to commit such an atrocity against his son.

In a last-ditch effort, Raul attempted to negotiate. “Your Highness, no matter the circumstances, Clyde is Margaery’s brother. If he were to die, she would bear the burden of her brother’s death. It would be a weight too great for her to endure, and we cannot allow that to happen!”

“If she cannot bear it, then I will,” Dashnell replied coldly, his resolve unshakeable. “I will shoulder that burden for her.”

He refused to relent. “Now, do you have anything else to say?”

Raul remained silent, cold sweat trickling down his forehead. Finally, he managed to utter, “When Margaery awakens, I will personally bring Clyde before the King to atone for his transgressions.”

Perhaps if Alicia could whisper something soothing to the King, there might still be a flicker of hope.

Dashnell saw through Raul’s intentions with clarity. He chose not to respond further.

If Raul was unwilling to take the necessary steps, then Dashnell would ensure that justice was served himself. For now, however, he said with a chilling finality, “If that is your desire, then so be it. But know this: when a son goes astray, the blame rests squarely on the father. Since you allowed Clyde to nearly take her life, you will kneel outside.”

Raul clenched his jaw, the urge to protest bubbling within him. After all, he was the Chancellor of the realm. He believed he should not be subservient to Dashnell.

Yet, he recalled the King’s blatant favoritism towards Dashnell, the hairpin Margaery wore, and the entire “Star of Fortune” narrative. He found himself unable to argue any further.

In the end, he stood, teeth gritted, and muttered, “Yes.”

At that moment, he understood that crossing Dashnell was a risk he could not afford to take.

When it came to Margaery, the King would always side with Dashnell. After all, he was the most superstitious of them all…