Page 109 of The Villainess Chose Naps Over Death Flags

"It is my honor to serve, my lady," Sterling said with a slight bow. "And if I may be candid—it has been a privilege to witness your transformation. You have become everything this estate needed."

Carol blinked back sudden tears. "That's very kind of you to say."

"It's merely the truth," Sterling said. "Now, you should rest as your sister suggested. The week ahead will be demanding, and you'll need your strength."

Carol nodded, standing. "You'll let me know when the pendant is ready?"

"The moment it returns from High Priestess Thea," Sterling confirmed. "I'll ensure it's delivered to your chambers discretely."

"Thank you," Carol said again.

She left the study feeling lighter despite the weight of the coming week. The banquet was planned. The pendant would be ready. All she had to do now was get through the next seven days without panicking.

One week until she proved to the northern nobility that she'd changed.

One week until she stood beside Caspian as his true partner.

She could do this.

She had to.

Chapter 23

A Gift from the Heart

The week passed in a blur of activity.

Invitations went out via fast messenger to every corner of the northern territories. Bea had departed for their family's estate two days after their planning session, regretfully unable to stay for the banquet itself—family obligations called her home. Responses began arriving—most acceptances, a few regrets from nobles too far away to make the journey on such short notice. Sterling tracked each response meticulously, adjusting table arrangements and accommodations accordingly.

The estate transformed around Carol. Tapestries in deep reds and golds were hung along the great hall's walls, replacing the austere military banners. New furniture arrived—cushioned chairs, elegant settees, decorative tables that made the space feel warm rather than cold. Fresh flowers from the gardens were arranged in every available corner.

The transformation was remarkable. Frostholme was becoming a home.

Cook worked tirelessly, and Carol approved samples enthusiastically. The honey cakes were perfect. The roasted meats were succulent. The pastries were works of art. Carol may have sampled more than strictly necessary, but as she told Lumi repeatedly, the baby needed nutrition.

"The baby needs vegetables," Lumi had countered.

"The baby needs happiness," Carol had replied. "And these make me happy."

Mochi and Shadow continued growing at an alarming rate. The Dreamweaver cub had nearly doubled in size, his movements becoming more graceful and purposeful. Shadow's paws remained comically oversized, promising the horse-sized shadow wolf he'd eventually become.

Both creatures followed Carol everywhere, much to the staff's continued bemusement and mild terror.

Most evenings, Carol and Caspian practiced dancing in the ballroom.

The first night had been slightly awkward—both of them conscious of the garden kiss, uncertain how to proceed. But Caspian had simply offered his hand, and Carol had taken it, and they'd fallen into the familiar rhythm of the waltz.

By the third evening, the awkwardness had faded into something warmer.

"You're a natural at this," Caspian observed as they moved through a complex turn.

"Years of lessons," Carol said. "Though I'll admit, it's more enjoyable with the right partner."

"Is that so?" Caspian asked, and there was amusement in his voice.

"Definitely," Carol confirmed.

He pulled her slightly closer—just enough to be improper if anyone was watching. But they were alone in the vast ballroom, and Carol found she didn't mind at all.