Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 292

Chapter 292: Dew, Steel, and Diplomacy

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

Morning sunlight spilled golden across the balcony, warming my skin as a soft breeze tugged playfully at my hair. The world below was calm—dew-kissed leaves, birds testing their first songs, and palace guards marching like drowsy shadows.

Marshi stretched luxuriously on the railing, his golden fur glimmering, tail curling like a question mark.

I raised a brow at him. "Do you want to go for a walk, Marshi?"

He blinked once... then nudged his head against me with a soft rumble, his tail swishing in complete agreement.

I laughed quietly. "That’s a yes, then."

***

[Palace Gardens—Early Morning—Later]

The moment my bare feet touched the grass, a ripple of magic hummed through me. A magic of Nature. Cool. Soft. Alive. It felt like stepping straight into the heartbeat of nature.

Marshi bounded ahead, chasing floating petals as though they were sworn enemies. He was bouncing happily, stretching and Yawning. 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

"I can’t believe you’re a Rakshar, Marshi," I teased, hands on my hips.

Marshi puffed out his chest, clearly offended... then tripped over his own tail.

A soft chuckle escaped me—light and uncontrolled. It felt good. Better than good. It felt like breathing after holding my lungs still for months.

The air smelled of blooming lilies and freshly turned earth. Sunlight filtered through the ancient trees like scattered diamonds. For a blissful moment, there were no crowns, no envoys, and no threats from distant borders.

Just me.

Just my Marshi.

Just peace, until—

CLANG! CLANG!

The jarring clash of steel shattered the stillness.

"Huh?" I blinked, brows knitting. "Who in the stars is training at this hour?"

Marshi huffed, equally offended by the noise interrupting his majestic pouncing. I followed the sound toward the training grounds. As the hedge cleared, I stopped.

Sir Haldor.

Alone.

Shirtless.

His sword cut through the morning air with lethal precision, muscles moving like battle-honed poetry. His black hair clung damply to his forehead, darkened by sweat that shimmered across broad shoulders —and there, on his chest, a faint scar... one I didn’t remember granting permission for.

A strike. A wound. Recently hidden. Something tightened in my chest. Irritation? Concern? Both?

"So... you’re an early morning person, Sir Haldor?" My voice carried before I could think better of it.

He froze mid-swing—then whirled, eyes wide. His blue gaze flashed like startled lightning.

"Your Highness," he breathed, lowering his blade. "You’re awake... already? That’s very unusual of you."

. . .

. . .

I narrowed my eyes, deadpan. "I’m sorry—are you questioning my ability to wake up or accusing me of slacking as your future ruler?"

His jaw dropped—then snapped shut.

"Neither!" he blurted, straightening so fast his sword nearly flew from his hand. "I simply meant—the realm is safer when you rest properly, Princess."

Oh. Smooth recovery.

He cleared his throat, suddenly avoiding my eyes—which was odd. Haldor never avoided anything. Not nobles. Not armies. Not even Papa.

"So," I crossed my arms, "who struck you there?" I looked at the scar on his chest. "If someone’s trying to assassinate my Captain of Knights, I’d like to know why I wasn’t invited."

He blinked... looked down and... then muttered, "Training mishap."

"Hmm." I stepped closer—inspecting the scar as if it were evidence. "I hate lies before breakfast, Captain."

His breath caught. He stiffened like a man unsure whether he should retreat or bow or faint.

Marshi hopped around him, sniffing him with great suspicion. Haldor didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe.

...Interesting.

I tilted my head. "You serve me. You protect me. Yet you refuse to tell me who dared put a blade on you?" My voice softened, dangerously. "That does not please me, Haldor."

His eyes met mine—finally steady.

"I protect you," he said quietly, "because I choose to. Not because I expect you to worry over every mark I earn doing so."

I froze.

I blinked... and then forced a small smile onto my lips. "Then forgive me for overstepping, Sir Haldor. It wasn’t my intention to pry into matters you don’t owe me."

I turned to leave. "Have a good training session, Sir—"

Warm fingers brushed mine—firm, calloused, and unexpectedly gentle. I stopped. Slowly, I looked down at his hand encircling mine... then up into those startlingly blue eyes of a man who never allowed himself softness.

"Sir... Haldor?" I breathed.

Osric had always promised he’d die for me. But this is the first time... someone promised he’d live for me.

"I’m grateful," I whispered, "that you are the one leading my knights."

***

[Royal War Room—Late Morning]

My voice dropped into something dark and razor-thin. "What kind of absurd reason is this?"

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