Page 59 of The Villainess Chose Naps Over Death Flags

"I don't know what to do with her," Caspian admitted quietly.

"Well," Edwin said, "you could start by coming back from this mission alive so you can have dinner with her again. I heard she was quite disappointed when you had to cancel tonight."

"She was?"

"Edmund said she looked genuinely sad when informed. Changed out of a very nice dress and immediately went to find you."

Caspian hadn't realized she'd dressed up for dinner. The thought made something warm settle in his chest.

"Focus on the mission," he told Edwin, more to remind himself than anything.

"Of course, Your Grace. The mission." Edwin's grin returned. "Which we will complete as quickly as possible so you can get home to your wife who misses you and might possibly let you kiss her."

"Edwin."

"Just stating tactical objectives, Your Grace."

Thomson rode up on Caspian's other side. "For the record, Your Grace, I'm rooting for you. The Duchess seems lovely, and you deserve some happiness."

"Hear, hear," several soldiers called out from behind them.

Caspian didn't know whether to be touched or mortified that his entire company was apparently invested in his marriage.

"All of you need to focus on the actual mission," he said firmly.

"We can do both," Thomson assured him. "Multi-tasking. Very tactical."

The rest of the ride was mercifully free of commentary about his personal life, though Caspian caught several soldiers whispering and exchanging coins when they thought he wasn't looking.

As they neared the border and the reports of Blightspawn activity became more frequent, Caspian forced his mind back to tactical considerations. Formation positions. Supply status. Estimated enemy numbers based on patrol reports.

But in the quiet moments—when they stopped to make camp, when he was checking his weapons before sleep—his mind drifted back to the courtyard.

To amber eyes filled with genuine concern.

To a soft voice saying his safety mattered.

To the warmth in his chest when she'd called him her husband.

Caspian settled into his bedroll that night, staring up at the stars.

Somewhere to the south, Caroline was probably having dinner alone in her chambers. Feeding Mochi treats and perhaps reading or resting.

Was she thinking about him?

Did she really miss him, or had that been polite words with no real feeling behind them?

"Be careful. Please."

The memory of her voice, soft and worried, echoed in his mind.

"Can't sleep?" Edwin asked from his own bedroll nearby.

"Just thinking about tomorrow's approach," Caspian lied.

"Sure you are." Edwin's voice held clear amusement. "Has nothing to do with wondering whether your wife is thinking about you too."

"Go to sleep, Edwin."