Page 186 of The Villainess Chose Naps Over Death Flags

"Everything is better with you," Carol said softly.

They sat like that for a moment, hands clasped, simply enjoying the peaceful morning and the anticipation of their journey.

Shadow, deciding the humans were sufficiently distracted, carefully stole a piece of sausage from the serving platter.

Mochi knocked a small jar of honey onto the floor.

Sunny attempted to climb the tablecloth and nearly pulled the whole thing down.

Carol and Caspian looked at their pets, then at each other.

"This is going to be an interesting trip," Caspian said.

"The best kind," Carol replied.

And despite the chaos of their growing pet collection, despite the political complications that would come with attending a royal celebration, despite everything—

Carol couldn't wait.

Chapter 40

The Royal Ball

The royal ballroom was breathtaking.

Carol stood at the top of the grand staircase, Caspian's arm steady beneath her hand, and simply stared.

She had Caroline's memories of this place—vague impressions of past balls, formal events, the glittering spectacle of court life. But memories were nothing compared to actually seeing it with her own eyes.

The ballroom was massive, easily large enough to hold several hundred guests with room to spare. The ceiling soared overhead, painted with elaborate frescoes depicting the history of the Vaelindor dynasty—gods and heroes, battles and triumphs, all rendered in stunning detail and rich colors.

Enormous crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, each one holding hundreds of candles that cast warm, dancing light across everything. The glow reflected off the polished marble floors—white veined with gold—making the entire room shimmer.

The walls were adorned with silk tapestries in deep blues and golds, the royal colors, embroidered with intricate patterns. Tall windows draped in velvet lined one side of the ballroom, and through them, Carol could see the palace gardens lit with lanterns.

Nobles filled the space, all dressed in their finest. The women wore gowns in every color imaginable, jewels glittering at their throats and wrists. The men were equally resplendent in formal attire, medals and insignia marking their ranks and houses.

Musicians occupied a raised platform, filling the air with elegant music. Servants moved smoothly through the crowd with trays of wine and delicate refreshments.

It was grander than anything Carol had seen in the North. Frostholme was beautiful in its own right—strong and elegant—but this was opulence on a completely different scale.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Caspian murmured beside her.

"It's incredible," Carol breathed. "Even more beautiful than I remembered."

"The palace spares no expense for royal celebrations," Caspian said. "Especially for the Crown Prince's birthday."

Carol smoothed her hands over her gown—a new creation from the capital's finest dressmaker. It was a deep emerald green that brought out her eyes, with delicate gold embroidery along the bodice and sleeves. The cut was specifically designed to accommodate her five-month pregnancy, flowing gracefully over her rounded belly while still looking elegant and fashionable.

She felt beautiful. And judging by the way Caspian had looked at her when she'd emerged from the dressing room earlier, he agreed.

"Ready?" Caspian asked.

Carol took a breath and nodded. "Ready."

They descended the stairs together, and Carol was immediately aware of the attention they drew.

The Duke and Duchess of Vanthorn didn't attend capital events often. Caspian's reputation preceded him—The Butcher of the North, the fearsome warrior who guarded the borders. People whispered and stared, but parted respectfully as they passed.