Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband novel Chapter 133

Chapter 133: The Feast of Victory

The Next Morning.

If war was loud, peace was absolutely deafening. Especially when that peace involved feeding an entire fortress of starving Wolf Kin.

Primrose stood in the center of the Winter-Hold kitchens, which were currently hotter than a volcano and twice as chaotic.

"More garlic!" Primrose shouted, pointing a ladle like a general’s baton. "And somebody grab that roast before it burns! If the crackling isn’t crispy, I’m going to cry!"

"Yes, Chef!" three burly wolf soldiers shouted in unison, scrambling to obey.

Usually, the kitchen staff would be terrified of an outsider taking over. But after rumors spread that the Fox Lady had purified the Shrine and dragged their children out of the Void, nobody questioned her. Also, the smell coming from her pots was enough to make a grown wolf weep.

Primrose wiped sweat from her forehead. She turned to chop some root vegetables, but her body moved faster than her new appendage.

SWISH.

Her massive white tail knocked a bowl of potatoes off the counter.

"Oh, come on!" Primrose groaned, scrambling to catch them.

"Need a hand?"

Caspian leaned against the doorframe. He looked much better after a few hours of rest and healing magic. He was dressed in a fresh, deep blue tunic that matched his eyes, and he was watching her struggle with an amused smile.

"I need a tail-tamer," Primrose huffed, kicking a potato back under the table. "This thing has a mind of its own. It’s like having a very large, very fluffy cat glued to my butt."

Caspian chuckled, walking over. He picked up the bowl and set it back on the counter.

"It seems happy," he observed.

"It’s knocking everything over!"

"It’s wagging," Caspian corrected gently. "You’re happy, Prim. So your tail is happy."

Primrose paused. She looked behind her. Sure enough, the big white plume was swishing back and forth in a cheerful, rhythmic beat.

"I guess I am happy," she admitted, leaning into him for a second. "Everyone is safe. Vali is okay. And the food smells amazing."

"It does," Caspian agreed, stealing a piece of diced carrot. "But Rurik is pacing in the hall. He says if you don’t serve dinner in five minutes, he’s going to start eating the furniture."

Primrose laughed. "Tell the Big Bad Wolf to sit. Dinner is served."

The feast was legendary.

Long tables stretched from one end of the Great Hall to the other, groaning under the weight of the food. Primrose had gone all out, using the hearty Northern ingredients to create a meal that warmed the soul.

There were whole roasted boars with skin so crispy it shattered like glass. There were giant pots of Kimchi Jjigae—the spicy stew that had saved Vali—bubbling red and angry. There were mountains of mashed root vegetables swimming in butter and herbs, and baskets of steaming bread.

The noise was incredible. Wolves didn’t eat quietly. They ate with gusto, tearing into meat, laughing, clinking mugs of ale, and howling songs that shook the rafters.

At the High Table, the mood was lighter than it had been in decades.

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