Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband novel Chapter 187

Chapter 187: The Silver and The Sea

The Groom’s Waiting Room was technically a parlor, but at the moment, it felt more like a bunker under siege.

Caspian stood in front of a mirror. He was wearing a ceremonial suit of deep teal velvet, embroidered with silver waves that seemed to move when he breathed. He looked every inch the King of the Sea.

Except he was hyperventilating.

"I can’t breathe," Caspian gasped, tugging at his high collar. "Is the air thinning? Did the Void return and steal the oxygen?"

"Stand still," Rurik grunted. The massive Wolf Warlord was trying to tie Caspian’s silk cravat. His fingers, which were the size of sausages, were struggling with the delicate fabric.

Rrrripp.

"Dammit," Rurik growled, holding up two halves of a cravat. "It was weak. Inferior silk. A warrior needs leather."

"That was the third one," Jax noted from the couch. The former Jade Serpent Guard was tossing grapes into his mouth, looking infuriatingly relaxed in his best dress uniform. "At this rate, the King is going to get married topless. The Wolf Matriarchs outside would love that."

"Step aside, you brute," a cool, silky voice commanded.

Cassian, the Serpent Warlord, glided forward. He was dressed in impeccable emerald silk robes, holding a staff topped with a glowing crystal. He looked calm, elegant, and mildly annoyed by the incompetence around him.

"You are strangling the King," Cassian chided Rurik. He tapped the torn cravat with his staff.

Mending Spell.

The silk knit itself back together. Cassian’s fingers moved in a blur, tying a perfect, complex Windsor knot in seconds.

"There," Cassian smoothed the lapel. "Perfection. Panic is inefficient, Caspian. Your heart rate is 140. Lower it, or you will pass out before the bride arrives."

From the darkest corner of the room, a pair of violet eyes opened.

Lucien, the Panther Warlord, was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He was wearing a black suit that seemed to absorb the light around him. He hadn’t said a word all morning.

"The perimeter is secure," Lucien reported, his voice low and devoid of emotion. "I have checked the shadows. No assassins. No ex-girlfriends. No Void Beasts."

Lucien stepped into the light. He walked up to Caspian. He reached out and brushed a speck of invisible dust off the King’s shoulder.

For a second, Lucien’s hand lingered. He looked at Caspian—the man who had won. The man who had captured the heart of the Silver Sovereign.

Lucien’s expression was unreadable to most, but Caspian saw the flicker of pain in the Panther’s eyes. It was the look of a man who was willingly stepping back into the dark so the sun could shine on someone else.

"You look like a King, Caspian," Lucien said softly. "Make her happy. Or the shadows will not forgive you."

Caspian nodded solemnly. "I promise, Lucien."

---

Across the palace, in the Sovereign’s Guest Suite, Primrose stood on a pedestal.

Madame Arachne, the Spider-Kin seamstress, was weeping tears of joy into all six of her handkerchiefs.

"Masterpiece," the spider sobbed. "My greatest work."

The dress was backless, cut low to allow for the Sovereign’s new anatomy. The fabric was a shimmering, stardust-white silk that clung to her form like water.

But there was no fabric train.

Instead, Primrose’s Nine Silver Tails fanned out behind her. They had been brushed, conditioned, and dusted with crushed pearl powder until they glowed. They lay on the floor in a perfect, fluffy fan, extending six feet behind her.

"How does it feel?" Luna asked, handing Primrose her bouquet of moon-lilies.

"Heavy," Primrose admitted. She twitched a muscle at the base of her spine. The tails lifted in unison, a wave of silver fur. "But... right."

She looked in the mirror. She didn’t just see herself. She saw the echo of Ophelia in her eyes—that sharp, mischievous glint.

You look hot, the Ophelia-impulse whispered in her brain. Go knock ’em dead, Little Fox. And don’t trip.

Primrose smiled. "I’m ready."

The Procession

The Royal Gardens of Solaris had been transformed. White roses and blue hydrangeas lined the aisle. The ocean breeze carried the scent of salt and sugar.

Every noble in the Beast Empire was there. The Bears, the Wolves, the Tigers, the Serpents.

The music started.

The Kids led the way.

Clover walked first. She was wearing a fluffy pink dress and holding a basket. She took her job very seriously. She placed each flower petal on the ground with precise, geometric spacing.

Vali walked behind her. He was wearing a tiny tuxedo. He wasn’t throwing flowers. He was glaring at the guests on the left and right, acting as Clover’s personal bodyguard. Do not step on the petals, his red eyes warned a terrified Badger-Kin. Or I bite.

Orion walked next. He carried a velvet pillow with two rings. He walked carefully, tongue sticking out in concentration, trying not to trip over his own feet.

Then came the Shadow Security.

Silas didn’t walk; he glided. Wearing a black velvet suit, he stayed three paces behind Orion. His violet eyes scanned the crowd, silent and intense. His job was to ensure the rings reached the target. He looked like a miniature assassin.

Behind them came the Logistics Team.

Arjun marched in lockstep with Jasper.

"Sector 4 clear," Arjun muttered into a magical earpiece (which was just a rock Jax had given him). "No hostiles detected in the buffet line."

Jasper pushed up his glasses. "Wind velocity is optimal. Sunset vector aligns with the altar in T-minus 4 minutes. Ellia signals that the Emperor is seated. Proceed."

Then, the music swelled.

Rurik and Rajah opened the great doors.

Primrose stepped out.

A collective gasp went through the crowd.

She didn’t walk; she floated. The nine tails behind her swayed with a hypnotic rhythm. She looked like a goddess who had stepped out of a myth.

At the altar, Caspian stopped breathing. He forgot the cravat. He forgot the seating chart. He forgot the politics. He just saw her.

In the shadows of the colonnade, Lucien watched her walk down the aisle. He tightened his grip on his wine glass until it cracked. Then, he took a deep breath, released the glass, and let his hand fall to his side.

He resigned himself to the role of the Guardian, not the Lover.

The Vows

Primrose reached the altar. Jax, the Best Man, winked at her. Luna, the Maid of Honor, straightened Primrose’s tails so they lay perfectly on the steps.

The High Priestess of the Moon raised her hands.

"We gather here today," she began, "not to witness a contract, but a collision. Fire and Water. Land and Sea. Past and Future."

She turned to Caspian.

"King Caspian of the Jaoiren. Do you take this Sovereign?"

Caspian looked into Primrose’s eyes—eyes that were silver with a ring of deep ocean blue.

"I take her," Caspian said, his voice steady and loud enough for the ocean to hear. "I take the Chef. I take the Warrior. I take the Fox."

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify