Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband novel Chapter 63

Chapter 63: The Restricted Section

For the last forty-eight hours, Primrose had become the most persistent shadow in the Sunless City.

Wherever King Caspian went, she was there.

He went to inspect the coral fortifications? She was floating behind him, asking about history.

He went to the training grounds to correct a guard’s posture? She was there, holding a towel and a question.

He tried to hide in his study to draft blueprints for a new aqueduct? She slid a plate of cookies under the door, followed by a note that simply read: PLEASE.

Finally, the King of the Deep cracked.

He was hovering over a drafting table made of polished obsidian, rubbing his temples. He turned around to find Primrose floating upside down near the ceiling, her hair drifting like a halo, staring at him with wide, pleading amber eyes.

"Primrose," Caspian sighed, the sound echoing in the silent room. "For the last time. The Old Palace Ruins are not a tourist destination. They are located in the Abyssal Zone. The pressure alone would crush a normal human, and the wildlife there thinks Great White Sharks are snacks."

"I’m not a normal human," Primrose countered, flipping right-side up. "I’m a Fox. A Fox with questions. And you said it yourself—history is written by the victors. The only way to find out what actually happened during the Great Divide, is to go to the place where it happened."

"It is forbidden," Caspian stated, crossing his powerful arms.

"You’re the King," Primrose pointed out. "You make the rules. You can un-forbid it."

"I am an architect," he corrected. "And as an architect, I know that entering a structural ruin that has been decaying for three thousand years is statistically unwise."

Primrose swam closer, landing softly on the floor in front of him. She knew she had to play her trump card. She knew this man. She knew his weakness. It wasn’t logic. It wasn’t duty.

It was his stomach. And his mana levels.

Maintaining the Sunless City’s barrier took a toll on him. She could see the faint lines of fatigue around his teal eyes. He was running on empty.

"Okay," Primrose said, changing tactics. She smoothed her apron. "How about a deal?"

Caspian raised an eyebrow. "A deal?"

"I cook you a meal. A real meal. Not snacks, not cookies. A High-Grade, Mana-Restoring, ’Boss-Level’ feast," she proposed, her voice taking on a tempting lilt. "Something spicy enough to wake up your core and dense enough to refill your magic reserves instantly. If you eat it and admit it gave you a power boost... you take me to the Ruins."

Caspian looked at her. He looked at the drafting table. He looked back at her.

He remembered the food back on earth. He remembered the feeling of warmth that had nothing to do with temperature.

"What kind of meal?" he asked, his voice betraying his interest.

Primrose grinned. It was a sharp, foxy grin. "Spicy Braised Abyssal Eel with Sun-Pearl reduction. It’s a recipe I just invented. Guaranteed to make you feel like you can punch a mountain."

Caspian hesitated for exactly three seconds.

"You have one hour," he said.

Sixty minutes later, the private dining chamber smelled like heaven and hellfire.

Primrose placed a massive, steaming stone bowl in front of the King. The broth was a deep, angry red, bubbling thick and rich. Chunks of tender, white eel meat floated alongside translucent sea-radishes and herbs she had gathered from the royal gardens.

"Eat," Primrose commanded, untying her apron.

Caspian picked up his spoon. He took a sip of the broth.

BOOM.

It wasn’t a sound; it was a sensation. Heat exploded in his chest, radiating outward to his fingertips and the tips of his tail fins. It wasn’t just spice; it was pure, concentrated energy. The ingredients she had chosen resonated perfectly with his aquatic physiology, but the intent she had cooked with—the desire to uncover the truth—acted as a catalyst.

He didn’t speak. He ate.

He ate with a fervor that was un-kingly. He devoured the eel, drank the broth, and scraped the bowl.

When he finally set the spoon down, his teal eyes were glowing with a terrifyingly bright light. The fatigue lines were gone. His skin looked revitalized. The water around him hummed with the overflow of his mana.

"Well?" Primrose asked, leaning against the table, crossing her arms.

Caspian stood up. He felt stronger than he had in years. He felt like he could indeed punch a mountain, or perhaps rearrange a tectonic plate.

"Pack your things, prim," Caspian said, a smirk playing on his lips. "We are going to the Abyss."

The royal hangar—where the currents were fast and the travel mounts were kept—was chaotic.

Crustar, the Crab-Chancellor, was scuttling back and forth so fast his legs were a blur.

"Your Majesty! This is highly irregular! The Abyssal Zone! The Danger! The Insurance Premiums!" Crustar clacked his claws frantically. "Who will sign the decrees? Who will approve the zoning permits?"

"You will, Crustar," Caspian said calmly, checking the saddlebags on his mount—a sleek, dark-scaled Sea Drake named Draft. "I am leaving you in charge of the administrative duties." 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

"Me?" Crustar squeaked. "But I pinch things when I panic!"

"Try not to pinch the diplomats," Caspian advised.

Primrose was busy saying goodbye to Orion. The little boy was floating near the gate, clutching a slate tablet.

"Are you going to find the secrets?" Orion asked, his eyes wide.

"We’re going to try," Primrose smiled, fixing his collar. "While we’re gone, I need you to be good for Crustar. Finish your geometry homework. And no calculating the structural integrity of the castle by hitting it with a hammer, okay?"

"Okay," Orion promised solemnly. "I will calculate the volume of soup instead."

"Good boy."

Caspian floated over. He was dressed in travel armor—sleek, black plating made of volcanic glass that hugged his muscular frame. He looked less like an architect and more like the Final Boss the game intended him to be.

"Ready?" he asked.

Primrose nodded, adjusting her own travel pack. "Ready."

"Then stay close," Caspian warned, his expression darkening. "Where we are going... the light does not reach."

They swam past the city limits, past the barrier, and down the continental shelf.

The further they went, the darker it became. The vibrant blues and greens of the upper ocean faded into a twilight indigo, then a bruised purple, and finally, absolute, crushing black.

The only light came from the bioluminescent stripe on Caspian’s tail and the faint glow of the Sea Drake.

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