Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 298

Chapter 298: The Coronation Blaze

[Lavinia’s POV — Everheart Estate, Grand Hall]

"ANNOUNCING HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY, THE EMPEROR — ACCOMPANIED BY HER HIGHNESS, THE CROWN PRINCESS!"

The doors of the Everheart Estate opened with a sound like thunder wrapped in silk.

As we stepped forward, the sea of nobles parted, bowing low in perfect unison. The symphony paused; even the chandeliers seemed to hush as the announcement echoed.

A thousand golden flames shimmered from the chandeliers above, scattering across the marble floor like stardust. The scent of lilies, gold dust, and polished wood mingled in the air—rich, regal, and suffocatingly perfect.

Every head bent lower. Silk whispered, jewels chimed, and I could practically feel the weight of every gaze following us.

Papa’s arm was steady as he guided me forward, his presence solid and towering beside me. I peeked up at him, and as expected, he was shooting death glares left and right like a general inspecting enemy ranks.

I bit back a laugh and whispered under my breath, "You know, Papa... I’m starting to envy Osric. When do I get my coronation crown?"

His lips twitched—the faintest, most imperial smirk. "Patience, my little menace. Every heir’s coronation happens after they turn twenty-two. You’re only eighteen. You still have years to prove yourself... and," he added slyly, "a few more years to laze around before your dreams are replaced by endless paperwork."

I huffed a quiet laugh. "So basically, you’re telling me to enjoy freedom while I still can?"

"Exactly," he murmured, eyes glinting with amusement. "Enjoy it, My dear. Once the crown sits on your head, even your sighs will be scheduled."

I smiled faintly, looking ahead at the glittering hall and the hundreds of eyes watching. "I’ll hold you responsible when that happens."

He chuckled under his breath. "Oh, I’m counting on it."

At the end of the carpet, two figures stepped forward—Grand Duke Regis Everheart and Osric. Both bowed low.

"Your Majesty, Your Highness," Regis said with a polished smile. "It’s an honor to welcome the Empire’s sun and moon to our humble estate."

Papa gave a slow, unimpressed cough. "I was forced to come."

The room froze for a beat.

Regis’s smile twitched, just slightly. "And yet, you came," he said smoothly. "That alone makes me happy—to have you here, witnessing the future of our children together."

Papa’s eyes narrowed dangerously. "Future, yes. Present, no."

I blinked, stifling a laugh as Regis turned to me, trying to salvage the atmosphere. "You look beautiful today, my dear—"

"She’s not your dear," Papa cut in sharply, his voice a blade wrapped in velvet.

Regis glanced at him, equally polite and equally suicidal. "But I’m going to be her father soon, am I not?"

Papa’s smile was the kind that could make seasoned generals faint. "Soon," he said softly. "Not. Yet."

The tension between them could’ve shattered glass.

Meanwhile, I stood there smiling sweetly, utterly used to this ritual of male ego warfare. "You two do realize," I murmured just loud enough for them to hear, "the ceremony hasn’t even started and you’re already competing for a future relationship?"

Osric, standing beside his father, let out the faintest sigh—the look of a man accustomed to chaos. "It’s best not to intervene, Your Highness," he whispered wryly. "They’ve been at this since before I could walk."

I leaned toward him just a little. "And you survived?"

"Barely," he said, lips twitching.

Papa gave Osric a look sharp enough to decapitate a lesser man. "Something funny, boy?"

Osric straightened instantly. "Not at all, Your Majesty."

"Good," Papa said, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Because I’m still deciding if I like you."

I sighed softly, but I couldn’t stop the amused smile tugging at my lips. This was my father—Emperor Cassius Devereux—conqueror of empires, bane of dukes, and apparently the most possessive man alive when it came to his daughter.

Osric straightened his uniform—a crisp black coat trimmed in Everheart silver—and stepped closer, his expression composed but his eyes holding a quiet warmth.

"Your Highness," he said, bowing slightly. "May I have the honor of escorting you to your seat?"

Before I could answer, Papa’s hand tightened on my shoulder again.

"Honor?" he repeated, in that low, dangerous tone that made generals beg for mercy. "You’re talking as if she’s some stranger at a ball, boy. She’s the Crown Princess of the Empire."

Osric met his gaze calmly—brave soul that he was. "And precisely for that reason, Your Majesty, she deserves to be treated with the utmost honor."

Papa’s jaw flexed, clearly torn between approving the respect and despising the source of it. "Hmph," he muttered finally. "If you step on her gown, I’ll have your head."

"Papa," I sighed.

Osric extended his arm toward me, eyes steady—waiting patiently, not forcing, not pleading. I placed my hand lightly on his arm.

His arm was warm and steady—too steady, perhaps. For a moment, I thought I saw the faintest smile curve his lips, a flicker quickly smothered beneath the noble composure he is currently maintaining.

"Careful," he said in a tone that could chill sunlight itself. "You’re holding my daughter’s hand, not a ceremonial flag."

He bowed faintly. "I hope you enjoy the event, Your Highness."

Osric leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t realize that man was Sir Haldor. The legendary ’Steel Knight’ himself."

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