Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 288

Chapter 288: The Warmth She Denied

[Lavinia’s POV — Next Morning—Dawnspire Wing]

The first light of dawn crept through the curtains, spilling soft gold across the room. I blinked against it, my head still heavy with the remnants of a restless night.

For a moment, I forgot—then I turned, and there he was.

Osric.

Still asleep on the couch, one arm hanging over the edge, the other clutching the blanket I’d thrown over him like it was a lifeline. His hair was a disheveled mess, his face peaceful but marked with exhaustion.

The man who’s stronger and faces armies without blinking was now snoring quietly in my sitting room. I pressed my lips together, torn between irritation and something dangerously close to fondness.

"Idiot," I murmured under my breath.

Marshi jumped down from the bed, tail flicking, and padded toward the couch. The creature sniffed him once, wrinkled its nose dramatically, and then looked back at me with a judgmental expression that could rival any court minister’s.

"Yes, I know," I said, rubbing my temple. "He reeks of wine and regret."

Osric shifted slightly at the sound of my voice, mumbling something incomprehensible—something that might’ve been my name. His fingers twitched, and for a fleeting moment, the corners of his mouth lifted, as though even in sleep, he was relieved I was still here.

That small, unguarded smile... it hurt more than I expected.

I turned away, pulling the curtains wide open. Sunlight spilled into the chamber, chasing away every remnant of last night’s gloom. The fire had long since died out, but the air still clung to a lingering warmth—heavy, almost suffocating.

A knock came.

Before I could answer, the door opened and Sera stepped in, her usual grace breaking into startled alarm. "Your Highness—what in the heavens—" Her gaze fell on the couch. "Is that... Lord Osric?"

I sank onto the chair opposite him, exhaling slowly. "He was drunk," I said flatly. "Now, prepare the bath, Sera."

She blinked, then bowed slightly, though her eyes still darted to Osric’s sleeping form like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. "Of course, Your Highness." Then, after a pause, she frowned faintly. "Forgive me for saying this, but... you look as though you haven’t slept much either."

"I couldn’t," I replied, running the brush gently through Marshi’s fur. "He wouldn’t stop talking—even after he fell asleep, he kept... apologizing."

Sera tilted her head, her voice soft but probing. "And did you forgive him?"

The brush stilled in my hand. My fingers tightened around it until my knuckles whitened.

"No," I said finally, each word deliberate. "Not yet. I couldn’t."

Her gaze lingered on me for a moment before shifting toward the couch, where Osric mumbled incoherently and rolled to one side, clutching the blanket tighter.

"But," she said carefully, "you tucked him in."

I met her eyes sharply. "That," I said, tone clipped, "was pity. Not forgiveness."

she gave a low, amused hum. "If that’s what you want to call it, my princess."

I ignored her remark and looked back toward Osric. The sunlight caught his face now—showing the shadows beneath his eyes, the lines of strain that even sleep couldn’t erase. He looked nothing like the man the Empire called indestructible.

He looked human.

And I hated that I understood that kind of weakness.

Osric stirred again, groaning softly, one hand lifting to his head. "Lavi..." His voice was hoarse, fragile.

I stood abruptly. "Let’s go, Sera," I said, brushing invisible dust from my sleeve. "Tell the chef to prepare hangover soup."

Sera hesitated, eyes flicking between the two of us. "As you wish, Your Highness."

She turned to leave, but not before murmuring just loud enough for me to hear, "It’s strange, isn’t it? Even when they hurt us the most, we’re still the ones making sure they recover."

I froze for half a second—then straightened my posture, letting the words slide off like rain.

"Go," I said quietly.

Sera bowed and slipped out.

The door clicked shut, and I let out a slow breath. Behind me, Osric shifted again, muttering my name like a prayer he didn’t deserve.

I didn’t turn to look at him.

Not yet.

***

[Osric’s POV — Morning — Dawnspire Wing]

The first thing I felt was pain. A dull, pounding ache right behind my eyes—the kind that makes even breathing sound too loud.

The second thing I felt was... warmth. A blanket. Soft. Tucked around me. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. The scent of lilacs and parchment drifted faintly through the air, the kind of fragrance I could recognize even in death.

Lavinia.

I opened my eyes slowly, squinting at the sunlight spilling through the curtains. The golden light stung, but I deserved the sting.

"Finally, you woke up."

"Drink the water first," she said evenly, not looking up from her paper.

"And Osric..."

"Yes?"

Her voice softened—just barely. "Next time you call me by my name, make sure you’ve earned the right to."

Then she left, leaving the faint echo of her words hanging in the quiet, heavier than any hangover could ever be.

A moment later, the door creaked open again.

Sera stepped inside, balancing a small tray. The fragrant steam of hangover soup filled the air as she set it gently on the table before me. "My lord," she said softly.

I exhaled, rubbing my temples. "Thank you, Sera."

She gave me a gentle smile, that kind of warmth only years of quiet loyalty could carry. "I sent word to the Everheart estate," she said, straightening the folds of her apron. "Captain Arden should be on his way with your fresh clothes."

A faint smile tugged at my lips. "You always think of everything."

Sera chuckled lightly. "Someone has to, my lord. Especially when you decide to drink your courage instead of use it."

I groaned softly, pressing my palm over my eyes. "You’re not going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Not until Her Highness does," she teased gently, then her tone softened. "I hope she forgives you soon."

I looked up at her, meeting her kind gaze. "Do you think she will?"

She hesitated, then said, "The princess may sound cold now, but her heart... it’s far warmer than she lets the world believe. She still cares for you, my lord—perhaps too much. Just remember," she added, her voice lowering, "love is only worth something when the person you hold dear knows she’s your first and only priority."

I watched her quietly, her words sinking deeper than I expected. "So you know," I murmured.

She tilted her head, smiling knowingly. "No, my lord. But I’d say I hit close to the mark."

A short, humorless chuckle escaped me. "You did."

Sera bowed gracefully. "Then I’ll leave you to your thoughts. Try not to waste the princess’s pity."

"I’ll try not to," I murmured.

As the door clicked shut behind her, the room fell quiet again. The steam from the soup curled lazily in the sunlight, and I sat there—barefoot, aching, and painfully sober—staring at the closed door she had walked through.

"Earn the right," I whispered under my breath. "Then I will."