Reborn I Refuse To Save The Traitors (Margaery) novel Chapter 9

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

**Chapter 9**

Dominic’s heart simmered with a potent mix of envy and frustration as he thought of Tessa. She was a radiant presence, a beacon of light in his otherwise tumultuous world.

Margaery, with her sharp wit and cunning demeanor, stood before him, a sardonic smile playing on her lips. “Well said, Lord Dominic. Tessa’s a rare pearl, a heavenly vision—nothing like a wretched creature like me.” Her words dripped with sarcasm, yet there was an undercurrent of truth that stung.

“Keep your distance, my lord, lest my shadow dims your honor,” she murmured, her fingers clutching the warm gemstone as she brushed past him, leaving a faint scent of lavender in her wake.

Dominic’s brow furrowed as he scowled, catching her arm in a moment of impulse. “What’s that supposed to mean?” His irritation was palpable, his eyes darkening with frustration. “I meant you, not Tessa!”

They had shared countless memories as children, their laughter echoing in the halls of their youth. Margaery had once called him “Dear Dominic” with such warmth that it felt like a hug. But now, the stiff title of “Lord Dominic” stung like a bee, igniting an uneasy pang in his chest.

Was that truly what he meant? No—what he truly meant was that the ninth prince would never desire Margaery.

Only he, Dominic, was her true match.

Yet, his words seemed to sail past her, lost in the tension that hung between them.

With a cool gaze, she turned, slipping her arm free from his grasp. “A gentleman minds his manners, Lord Dominic. Pray, do the same.”

Dominic stared at his empty hand, a wave of disappointment washing over him. Those were his words, once used to chide her, to remind her of propriety.

Their childhood had been filled with moments of closeness—hands brushing, arms linked, even the rare stolen embrace that had felt so innocent at the time.

Before Tessa had come into his life, he had thought Margaery was the one who held his heart.

But Tessa, with her delicate beauty, had stirred something deep within him, a protective instinct that surged with a single glance.

Now, Margaery, sharp and envious, no longer fit into his dreams.

He had drawn back, rebuffing her with a firm, “A lady keeps her distance, Lady Margaery. Show some propriety!”

The tables had turned, and now Margaery regarded him with weary disdain, her eyes reflecting a mixture of hurt and anger.

“You’d spurn me?” Dominic’s voice tightened as he followed her retreating figure, desperation creeping into his tone. “We’re still betrothed, or have you forgotten?”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Margaery replied, pausing to meet his gaze with an intensity that made his heart race. “But we’re not wed yet, are we? You’ve taught me that a lady guards her honor. I’ve listened.”

Her eyes lingered on him, a faint smile teasing at her lips. “Are you not pleased?”

It sounded like a plea for acknowledgment, but it cut him like a blade. “Margaery Wallen!” he growled, her name sharp on his tongue, a bitter taste lingering in his mouth.

Unfazed by his anger, she spoke calmly, “I’ll ask the tutor at Inkwell Academy if it’s proper for a man to dote so on his betrothed’s sister, embracing her freely.

“If so, perhaps I’ll find another’s arms to match my future husband’s virtue.”

“What—” Dominic trembled with rage, his face flushed with indignation. “I held Tessa because she’s frail! Must you be jealous of that?”

His voice boomed, echoing in the chilly air, but guilt flickered in his eyes. He knew that his moments with Tessa weren’t entirely innocent; the secrets they shared were not the kind to be aired in polite company.

‘How had Margaery turned so cold?’ he wondered, his heart heavy with confusion. ‘She used to cling to me, jealous and pleading, begging me to leave Tessa for her.

‘What had happened to her to speak so sharply now?’

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