Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 142

Chapter 142: In My Arms Once More

[Cassius’s POV]

[Dawnspire Wing—Lavinia’s Chamber—Moments After Thalein Begins Healing]

The air was still.

Too still.

The room pulsed with light from Thalein’s hands, his elven magic curling like vines of gold and green around my daughter’s body. The physicians had all gone quiet now, giving way to something older than medicine—older than logic. Magic that remembered the roots of the world and the first breath of life.

And I—

I couldn’t breathe.

My lungs refused to move, and my heart hammered in my chest like a warning bell. I stared at her face—too pale, too still—and begged the gods I’ve spent a lifetime cursing to just this once...

Then I saw it.

A tear.

Sliding down her cheek.

Slow. Quiet. Like a whisper from the edge of death.

And that was when something inside me broke.

Relief surged through my veins like fire. My knees gave in. I sank beside her bed, my hand reaching out with a tremble that I hated but couldn’t hide. I caught that tear with my thumb, cradling her face.

"She’s... she’s coming back," I whispered, more to myself than anyone else.

God, I always hated seeing her cry. I’d kill nations to keep a single tear from her eyes.

But this one?

This single, fragile thread of saltwater?

It saved me.

I gripped her hand in both of mine—tight, as if my strength alone could anchor her. I leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, the way I used to when she was a child and nightmares tried to steal her sleep.

"Come back to me, Lavinia," I murmured, my voice cracking. "Come to me, my child... I’ll tear down every shadow that’s chasing you. I’ll erase every nightmare you saw. I swear it."

The light flickered once, and then—

Thalein exhaled, voice trembling as his hands fell from her chest. "She’s back..." he said, eyes glistening. "My precious girl... She’s back to us."

I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding and rested my forehead against her hand. I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. The war in my chest had gone quiet for the first time in hours.

And then—

Of course.

Regis’s voice broke the stillness.

"But what about my child?"

I didn’t move at first. I lifted my head slowly, very slowly, and looked at him.

"My daughter," I said, voice low and cold, "was the one lying on the deathbed, Regis."

He flinched.

I stood, still holding Lavinia’s hand, as I stepped toward him. "Your son was not bleeding from the mouth. He was not poisoned. He was not dancing between death and a prayer."

Regis stiffened, jaw clenched, but I didn’t stop.

"And it was your son," I said, sharper now, "who took an oath before her and the whole empire to protect her. An oath sealed in blood. And he failed."

Regis stepped forward, frustration bleeding through. "But he—"

I didn’t let him finish.

"No." My voice thundered through the chamber, final as judgment. "You may speak when I allow it. And right now, I’m not finished."

He looked away, biting down words.

I took a breath, slower this time.

"I will not execute Osric," I said finally, the words falling like steel against marble. "That mercy is not mine to give or deny."

Regis’s head snapped up. "Then who—"

"She will decide," I said, motioning toward Lavinia’s resting form. "If she chooses to forgive him, he walks free. If she does not—then not even your bloodline will protect him."

A heavy silence followed. Regis’s hands curled into fists at his side, knuckles white.

He said nothing more.

He turned sharply, cloak whipping behind him—and walked out without another word.

And then—

A sound.So small.So faint.

"...Pa...pa..."

My entire body stilled.

My head snapped toward her, and in the next instant, I was at her side, my arms cradling her head, trembling like I was holding something too fragile for this world.

"Lavinia..." I whispered, voice raw. "My child..."

Her body shifted weakly, a soft stir like the petals of a flower caught in wind. Her eyes fluttered beneath her lids—and then, as if the very heavens had taken mercy on me—

Another whisper.

"Pa...pa..."

I gripped her hand tighter. "I’m here. I’m here, my child—I never left."

She opened her eyes slowly, painfully, as if each second it took burned through time and space. Her gaze locked with mine—those same fierce, untamable eyes, now cloudy with pain but unmistakably hers.

And then—

"Papa..."

The word came out cracked. Raw. Like it hurt to say.Of course it hurt—her throat, her lungs, and her entire soul had fought through poison and death to speak to me.

Without thinking, I reached for the glass of water on the bedside table. "Here," I murmured. "Drink... slowly now."

She obeyed, weakly sipping. Each swallow looked like a war waged. When she finished, her gaze drifted back up to me—and her eyes swelled with tears.

And then she lunged.

"I had a bad dream, Papa... it was so bad... it was scary... so scary, Papa... you were... you were..."Her voice broke apart into hiccups and gasps, tears streaming freely.

She clung tighter, like she feared I might vanish too. "Promise me..." she sniffled. "Promise me you’ll never leave me, Papa... never ever ever leave me again—"

"MY PRECIOUS!!"A voice sobbed behind us.

Lysandre was next. "Don’t hog all the hugging, Imperial Drama King!"

Thalein nearly crashed into the bed, scooping her into his arms with a cry that cracked the air.

"I saw your spirit flicker!" he sniffed, clinging to her like she might fade again.

"I mean, technically, yeah," she said, voice light but still hoarse. "But now I’m flickering back, so you can calm the elf down."

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