Reborn I Refuse To Save The Traitors (Margaery) novel Chapter 82

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

**Chapter 82: I Will Guard You**

Dominic felt an overwhelming urge to surge forward, to snatch the box from Dashnell’s grasp and personally administer the medicine to Margaery. The thought ignited a fire within him, yet as the words teetered on the edge of his lips, he found himself paralyzed by a mix of fear and indecision. Instead, he could only scowl, his gaze boring into Dashnell with an intensity that was almost desperate.

Dashnell remained unmoved, his focus unwavering.

The tension in the air was palpable, thick with unspoken words and hidden resentments. Dominic’s thoughts spiraled as he grappled with the absurdity of the situation. *Margaery is such a good person. How could fate allow her to be entangled with someone as vile as Dominic? Truly, the heavens have conspired in ways that defy all logic!*

Just as the standoff reached an unbearable silence, Craig re-entered the room, breaking the tension with his practical demeanor.

“Your Highness,” he said, his voice steady, “you should eat something. And wake Margaery; it’s important for her to eat too. The food is still hot.” He set down the provisions he had brought, moving swiftly to Margaery’s bedside to check her pulse. A deep sigh escaped him as he assessed her condition. “Her pulse is stronger now, but she still requires time to recuperate.”

“Mm.”

Dashnell’s mood darkened further, a storm brewing behind his eyes.

The last time he had seen Margaery, she had been vibrant, full of life. Now, she lay pale and fragile, her recovery uncertain, casting a shadow over his heart. Today was merely the beginning of a long, arduous journey.

*I will make Clyde pay for this,* he vowed silently, *making him suffer in ways he cannot imagine, unable to live, unable to die.*

With a gentle touch, he placed the ointment aside, taking Margaery’s hand with a tenderness that belied his turbulent emotions. “Margaery, wake up,” he urged softly.

Dominic rose from his seat, a surge of longing coursing through him. He wished fervently that he could be the one holding her hand at that moment. His throat felt parched, as if it could ignite into flames. It dawned on him then, with a heavy weight, that the girl who had been his fiancée since childhood was now so tantalizingly out of reach. The sorrow that enveloped him was profound, hollowing out his heart and leaving a raw ache in its wake.

But there sat Dashnell, an imposing figure of imperial authority, and Dominic dared not cross him.

Margaery stirred, her hand feeling cool yet refreshing against Dashnell’s warm grip. As she opened her eyes and saw him keeping vigil at her side, a flicker of warmth ignited within her heart. “Your Highness, it’s already very late,” she murmured, a soft smile gracing her lips.

He hadn’t left her side. He was there, steadfast, a guardian in her moment of vulnerability.

To claim she wasn’t moved would be a lie.

“Mm, we should eat something,” Dashnell replied, his voice gentle as he helped her sit up slightly, allowing her to lean against his chest. He deftly took the soup from Craig’s hands. “Your wound needs to stop bleeding, so you can only have something light and astringent. Mr. Eastwick personally prepared this medicinal meal. Please, try it.”

A spoonful of the medicinal soup was brought to her lips, and Margaery felt a blush creep onto her cheeks. “Your Highness, I can manage this myself.”

“Your shoulder is injured; it’s crucial to prevent any further tearing and bleeding.” Dashnell gently refused her protest, feeding her one spoonful at a time with a careful precision that made her heart flutter.

In that tender, intimate atmosphere, Margaery found herself momentarily forgetting the pain in her shoulder, and before she knew it, she had consumed an entire bowl of soup.

Dashnell then offered her several pieces of crike, ensuring she was well taken care of.

The sight of them together pierced Dominic’s heart like a dagger, leaving him feeling utterly powerless. He couldn’t comprehend how he had allowed someone as remarkable as Margaery to slip through his fingers, little by little.

As he contemplated the power that Margaery wielded, he couldn’t help but notice that her beauty was that of a woman destined to bring prosperity to her husband.

“Margaery, the cream soup you wanted to eat…”

Unable to hold back any longer, Dominic stepped forward, offering the soup he had procured for her.

“I’m full,” Margaery replied, her eyes meeting his with a hint of disdain hidden beneath her calm exterior. “I thought you weren’t here; you didn’t say anything just now.”

Dominic froze, caught off guard by her words.

With Dashnell present, he found himself at a loss for words, his voice trapped in his throat.

“It’s alright, you can go back now. I’ll be leaving tomorrow,” Margaery said, leaning back against the bed with Dashnell’s assistance, dismissing Dominic entirely.

He stared at the cream soup in his hand, its ingredients now wilted and unappetizing, feeling a wave of conflict wash over him.

Finally, he mustered the courage to speak. “You’re seriously injured; how could I leave? Tonight, I’ll stay here and watch over you.”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify