Page 27 of The Villainess Chose Naps Over Death Flags

To the way she'd looked at him with those amber eyes, her cheeks pink, like she was seeing him for the first time.

He didn't understand it.

He understood tactical formations and combat strategies and political maneuvering. He understood duty and responsibility and the weight of the Vanthorn name.

But he did not understand his wife.

And he especially didn't understand why part of him—a very small, very foolish part—was actually looking forward to tomorrow's dinner.

To see what she would do next.

To see if she would blush again.

Tactical assessment, he told himself firmly. That's all this is. Strategic observation of a potentially hostile element.

The fact that said hostile element had honey-blonde hair and amber eyes and a smile that had caught him off guard had nothing to do with it.

Nothing at all.

Caspian looked down and realized he'd been holding the same report for the last ten minutes without reading a single word.

"Damn it," he muttered to the empty room.

This was going to be more complicated than he'd thought.

Chapter 7

Career Path Selection (A Questionable Choice)

Carol woke up to sunlight streaming through her windows and, for a blissful moment, forgot where she was.

Then reality came crashing back.

Right. Fantasy world. Pregnant. Married to The Butcher of the North. Seven death flags. Two percent survival chance.

Also, I had dinner with said Butcher last night and he was... actually kind of amazing?

Carol pressed her hands to her face, feeling the warmth creep into her cheeks just thinking about it.

Caspian Vanthorn was nothing like she'd expected. Yes, he was terrifying and powerful and had killed over fifteen thousand monsters with his bare hands (well, probably his swords, but still). But he was also intelligent, surprisingly funny in a dry way, and those green eyes—

"Okay, stop," Carol told herself firmly. "You have bigger problems than developing a crush on your own husband."

"Good morning!" Lumi chirped, materializing near the pillow with a cheerful glow. "How are you feeling?"

"Confused. Overwhelmed. Slightly terrified." Carol sat up, her hand automatically going to her small baby bump. "Also, I think I might be attracted to a man who could kill me with his pinky finger, which feels like a red flag."

"He won't kill you with his pinky," Missy said, appearing on the other side of the bed. "He'd use a sword. More efficient."

"Not helpful, Missy."

"I thought it was very helpful. You should know these things."

Carol swung her legs out of bed and walked to the window. The gardens looked even more beautiful in the morning light, and she could see figures moving in the distance—probably the staff starting their daily work.

Last night had been... surprising. Good surprising. Caspian had been suspicious and wary, yes, but he'd also listened. He'd almost smiled. Multiple times. And that comment about the eastern terrace—

"If you're going to watch my training again, you don't have to hide behind the hedge. The eastern viewing terrace has a better vantage point."