Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband novel Chapter 158

Chapter 158: The Court of Vipers

Back in the Nursery, Caspian was regretting his life choices.

He was currently sitting in a plush armchair, trying to read a book titled Advanced Void Theory, while five children caused chaos around him.

Vali, the Wolf Cub, was currently in the middle of a very important mission.

He was in love.

Well, as much in love as a six-year-old wolf could be. He thought Clover was the best thing since sliced ham. She was soft, she smelled like flowers, and she had big ears.

Vali smoothed down his messy hair. He puffed out his chest. He marched over to where Clover was unpacking her bag.

"Hey," Vali said, leaning against the bedpost and trying to look cool. (He looked like a puppy trying to pose for a photo).

Clover looked up, blinking her big brown eyes. "Hi, Vali!"

"That bag looks heavy," Vali grunted, pointing at her giant carrot-shaped backpack. "Too heavy for a... uh... rabbit."

"It’s okay!" Clover chirped. "It’s mostly stuffed animals. And emergency snacks."

"I can carry it," Vali offered intensely. "I am very strong. I lifted a rock yesterday. A big one."

He grabbed the backpack straps.

"Oh, thank you!" Clover beamed. She patted Vali on the head, right between his wolf ears. "You are such a good boy, Vali! You’re like a little pack mule!"

Vali froze.

Good boy? Pack mule?

He didn’t want to be a good boy. He wanted to be a Warrior King protecting his Queen. He wanted her to swoon at his muscles, not scratch behind his ears like he was a pet!

But... her hand was soft. And the ear scratches felt really nice.

Vali’s leg started to thump involuntarily.

"I am not a mule," Vali muttered, blushing bright red as he leaned into the hand scratch. "I am a fearsome predator."

"Who’s a fluffy predator? You are!" Clover cooed, completely oblivious to his internal crisis. "Do you want a carrot stick?"

Vali sighed, defeated. "Yes. I want a carrot stick."

Across the room, Jasper watched them with dead, golden eyes.

"Pathetic," Jasper whispered to his pet snake. "The Wolf has been domesticated in under thirty seconds. Disgraceful."

Deep in the West Wing, the atmosphere was much colder.

Lucien stood at the end of a long table made of black obsidian. He was alone.

Sitting opposite him were the Regent Council.

There were five of them, but two held the real power. They were Panther-kin, just like him.

Lord Malachi, Lucien’s younger cousin, lounged in his chair. He was handsome in a sharp, cruel way, with slicked-back black hair and panther ears pierced with silver rings. He was cleaning his claws with a silk handkerchief.

Lady Verna, his aunt, sat stiffly. She was an older panther with grey streaks in her hair and a scar running down her nose. She looked like she ate happiness for breakfast and spat out misery.

"So," Malachi drawled, his tail flicking lazily behind his chair. "The Prodigal Duke returns. And look at him. He smells of... dog."

He wrinkled his nose.

"Wolf," Lucien corrected coldly. "And Tiger. And Fox. It is called alliances, Malachi. You should try making some."

"We do not need alliances with loud, dirty beasts," Lady Verna snapped. She slammed a hand on the table. "You abandoned your post, Lucien! You took the Heir—our sacred Silas—and ran off to play nanny in the Capital!"

"I took him to save his life," Lucien said, his voice dropping. "Or have you forgotten why he went silent?"

The room went quiet. Malachi stopped cleaning his claws.

"Old history," Malachi dismissed, waving a hand. "The point is, you are back. And you brought intruders into our sanctuary."

He stood up, walking around the table.

"You are unfit to rule, cousin. You are soft. You let outsiders walk on our rugs. You let a fox with no magic sleep in the East Wing."

Malachi leaned in, his yellow eyes glowing.

"Abdicate, Lucien. Give us the boy. We will raise Silas properly. We will teach him to be a weapon, not a broken doll. And you can go back to your little daycare."

Lucien’s fists clenched. Shadows began to boil up from the floor, spikes forming in the darkness.

"Touch my nephew," Lucien whispered, "and I will flay the skin from your—"

CREAK.

The heavy iron doors of the War Room groaned.

They didn’t just open. They were pushed open with casual, terrifying force.

"Am I interrupting?" a voice asked.

Primrose stepped into the room.

She looked like a disaster. Her expensive wedding reception dress was torn at the hem, stained with soot, and smelled of smoke. Her hair was wild.

But she didn’t look weak.

Behind her, Four Tails (White, Silver, Gold, and Green) fanned out like a peacock’s display, glowing brightly in the dark room.

The Panthers hissed. Malachi jumped back. Lady Verna’s ears flattened.

Primrose walked into the room like she owned the building. She didn’t look at the floor; she looked Malachi dead in the eye.

"Who is this?" Lady Verna demanded, standing up. "How dare you enter the War Room, outsider!"

"I’m the Outsider you were just talking about," Primrose said pleasantly.

She walked up to Lucien and linked her arm through his. It was a possessive gesture. A statement. He is with me.

"I’m Primrose," she introduced herself. "I’m the Spirit Fox. I’m the fiancée of the Sea King. I’m the best friend of the Tiger General, the princess of the empire. And..."

She looked at Malachi, her eyes flashing gold.

"...I’m the Nanny."

Malachi scoffed, though he looked uneasy at the sight of her tails. "A nanny? You expect us to fear a babysitter?"

"You should," Primrose smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. It was a smile full of teeth.

"Because I heard you mention Silas."

She let go of Lucien and took a step toward Malachi. The shadows in the room reacted to her presence, warping around her fox-fire.

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