Page 195 of The Villainess Chose Naps Over Death Flags

Carol looked at the remaining options—still several flavors to sample—and felt a surge of pure joy.

Her husband, who didn't particularly like sweets, was sitting here with her, trying every cake she offered, smiling and relaxed and completely focused on her happiness.

"The tea-flavored one," Carol decided. "It's subtle, but really interesting. I think you'll like it."

"Then tea-flavored it is," Caspian said.

Carol cut two pieces, handing one fork to him and keeping one for herself.

They ate together, surrounded by the glittering ballroom and the curious stares of nobles, completely wrapped up in their own little world of cake and contentment.

Carol fed Caspian another bite of chocolate cake. He responded by offering her some of the vanilla. She laughed when he got a bit of frosting on his thumb and wiped it away with her napkin.

"You're tolerating sweets for me," Carol observed.

"I'm enjoying sweets with you," Caspian corrected. "There's a difference."

"You're perfect," Carol said again, leaning against his shoulder.

Caspian's arm came around her, careful of her belly, holding her close.

"So are you," he said quietly.

Carol smiled, took another bite of cake, and thought that this—right here, right now—was exactly where she wanted to be.

Not chasing after men who didn't want her. Not scheming or plotting or making herself miserable.

Just here. With her husband. Eating cake. Being happy.

Perfect.

Chapter 43

A Friend in High Places

About an hour had passed since the cake incident, and Caspian was feeling remarkably content.

Caroline was on his arm, still glowing from their shared desserts and the look on Percival's face when Caspian had appeared beside him. The evening had been enjoyable so far—seeing Caroline's family, watching her spend time with her cousin, and then simply being together.

But there was one obligation he still needed to fulfill.

"We should greet Prince Alexandros properly," Caspian said quietly to Caroline. "Wish him a happy birthday."

Caroline nodded, smoothing her skirts. "Of course. I'd like to meet him."

They made their way through the ballroom toward the raised dais where the royal family held court. King Edric and Queen Marguerite sat in elegant chairs, receiving well-wishers with practiced grace. And standing beside them, laughing at something a nobleman had said, was Crown Prince Alexandros Vaelindor.

Alex was twenty-four now—two years younger than Caspian—and looked every inch the future king. Dark hair swept back from a handsome face, warm hazel eyes that seemed to take in everything, tall and broad-shouldered with the athletic build of a warrior who actually trained rather than just posturing. His smile was genuine and charismatic, drawing people to him naturally.

He was everything a crown prince should be: approachable yet commanding, friendly yet regal.

And he was one of the few people in the kingdom who had never been afraid of Caspian.

As Caspian and Caroline approached, Alex's eyes swept over the crowd and landed on them. His face lit up immediately.

"The Butcher of the North!" Alex called out, his voice warm with genuine pleasure. "You actually came! I was beginning to think my invitation would be declined."

Several nearby nobles turned to stare, but Alex was already stepping down from the dais to greet them properly.