Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband novel Chapter 68

Chapter 68: The Prince’s Legs and the Silent Voice

The currents around the Sunless City were cold, but the atmosphere inside the Royal Hangar was absolutely freezing.

Caspian stood by the transport gate, leaning heavily on his trident. He had swapped his ruined volcanic armor for a high-collared tunic of woven sea-silk, dark enough to hide the bandages on his shoulder. The corruption—the Void Virus—was currently dormant, suppressed by Primrose’s glowing blue herb paste, but the grey, cracked veins were creeping up his neck like frost.

"Are you sure about this, Neighbor?" Primrose asked, shivering slightly. She didn’t have her chef’s uniform. She was wearing a borrowed Jiaoren robe that was three sizes too big and made of slippery kelp-fabric. She clutched a waterproof satchel containing the Sun-Pearl to her chest. "You look like you’re about to pass out. Morana won’t attack the moment you leave. We could rest for an hour."

"Morana is a viper," Caspian gritted out, checking the saddle of his Sea Drake. "If I show weakness now, she strikes. If I stay, she poisons the court against me. The only move is to leave, secure the Alliance you so boldly lied about, and return with backup."

He looked down at the small figure floating beside him.

Prince Orion, the Heir to the Deep, was vibrating with excitement. He was wearing a tiny backpack made of shells, filled with slate tablets and his favorite rocks.

"We are going to the Surface?" Orion chirped, doing a little flip in the water. "To see the Sun? And the Dirt? And the Geometry of the Buildings?"

"Yes," Caspian said, softening his tone. "But it is dangerous, Orion. You must stay close to Primrose. And you must not calculate the trajectory of falling objects by dropping things off cliffs."

"I promise!" Orion beamed. "I will only calculate inside my head!"

Crustar scuttled over, wringing his claws so hard they clicked like castanets. "Your Majesty! Taking the Prince? Is this wise? The insurance premiums for a Royal Heir on land are astronomical! And what if he dries out? What if a seagull pecks him?"

"The Palace is compromised," Caspian cut him off. "Morana has spies in the nursery. The safest place for my son is with me. Or rather..." He looked at Primrose. "...with the Ambassador."

Primrose sighed, patting Orion’s head. "Don’t worry, Crustar. I run a daycare. One more cub won’t break me. Though I might need to charge extra for Political Exile services."

"Go," Caspian commanded.

He grabbed Primrose’s hand with his good arm. He grabbed Orion with his tail.

With a powerful surge of mana, they shot out of the hangar, bypassing the slow currents and entering the Slipstream—the high-speed underwater highway that connected the Deep to the Shallows.

Breaking the surface was always a shock.

One moment, they were surrounded by the crushing, silent blue of the ocean. The next, they burst into the blinding, noisy world of air and sunlight.

They washed up on the private beach cove near the Warlords’ territory. The sand was warm, the sky was a brilliant, cloudless blue, and the seagulls were screaming insults at each other.

Caspian dragged himself onto the sand, gasping as the air hit his gills. The transition was harder this time because of the injury. He fell to his knees, his tail thrashing in the surf.

"Caspian!" Primrose stumbled in the shallow water, rushing to him. Her kelp-robe was soaked and clinging to her, making her look like a very unhappy piece of sushi. "Are you okay?"

"I... am... fine," he wheezed.

A shimmer of teal light enveloped him. His tail split, bones reshaping, scales retracting. It was a painful process, made worse by the corruption. When the light faded, he was human(ish) again. He wore black trousers and boots that materialized with the magic, but he stumbled as he tried to stand.

"Daddy fell over!" Orion shouted.

The little prince had also transformed. Gone was the finned tail. In its place were two small, knobby-kneed legs.

Orion stood up. He looked down at his new feet with intense fascination.

"Legs," Orion whispered. "Two pillars of support. Center of gravity... adjusting."

He took one confident step forward.

His knees buckled inward. He crossed his ankles. He windmilled his arms.

SPLAT.

Orion face-planted directly into a pile of wet sand.

"Oof! The ground is broken!" Orion complained, lifting his head and spitting out grit. "It doesn’t hold me up like water! It is rude!"

"It’s called gravity, genius," Primrose laughed, picking him up and dusting him off. "You have to balance. Like this."

She demonstrated walking. Orion mimicked her, wobbling like a newborn giraffe on ice skates.

"Okay," Primrose said, looking down at herself. "Now, the bigger problem. I look like a drowned rat."

She wrung out her hair. Water splashed everywhere. She didn’t have her dimensional bag because she never had one—she had lost everything when she was kidnapped. She was just a wet, tail-less fox in a stolen dress.

"I can’t walk into the city like this," she groaned. "I look like I lost a fight with a washing machine."

Caspian stood up, steadying himself. He looked at her shivering form. He raised his good hand.

"Hold still."

A pulse of heat—pure thermal energy—radiated from his palm. He didn’t touch her, but he passed his hand over her clothes. Steam erupted from the fabric.

Whoosh.

In seconds, the kelp-robe was dry. It was still a weird, oversized green dress that smelled like soup, but at least it wasn’t wet. Her hair puffed up instantly into a frizzy, chaotic mess.

"Better?" Caspian asked, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

"I look like a dandelion," Primrose deadpanned, trying to smooth her hair down. "But yes. Thank you. Let’s go before the seagulls decide we’re lunch."

The walk through the city was a blur. Primrose moved with a frantic energy, ignoring the merchants who stared at the strange trio: a frizzy-haired woman in a green robe, a tall, scary man in black, and a child who walked like he was drunk.

When the sign of Little Whiskers came into view, Primrose’s heart stopped.

The building was standing. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

There was no smoke. No rubble. No police tape. The sign was swinging gently in the breeze.

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