Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband novel Chapter 75

Chapter 75: The Glitter Bomb and The Council of Terrible Advice

Later that afternoon.

Peace is a lie. Especially when it is bought with caramel.

Lady Ellia sat on the floor, scraping the last bits of golden sugar from the jar with a focus that was almost admirable. She looked like a small, sticky angel. Her golden curls bounced as she hummed a little tune.

I sat opposite her, still picking goose feathers out of my hair. My shoes were still tacky from the tree sap, making a wet shluck sound every time I shifted my weight.

Okay, Primrose, I thought, watching the Lion Cub. She’s fed. She’s sugar-crashed. Now is the time to strike with education.

I knew I couldn’t just open a textbook. She would shred it. I needed to be smarter. I needed to use Gamer Logic.

"You know," I said casually, leaning back in my chair. "It’s actually a good thing you hate studying. The Emperor was right."

Ellia paused, the spoon halfway to her mouth. Her ears twitched. "What did the Old Man say?"

"He said Math is too dangerous for cubs," I lied smoothly. "He said the Imperial Arithmancy is a secret art reserved only for the strongest minds. He specifically ordered me not to teach you the Equation of Power. He said your brain might... melt."

I sighed dramatically. "So, we’ll just do finger-painting. It’s safer for someone of your... capacity."

Hook.

Ellia’s eyes narrowed. The golden slits contracted. "My brain is made of steel! I am smarter than the Old Man! What is this... Equation of Power?"

"Oh, I couldn’t," I waved my hand. "It involves multiplication. Highly volatile stuff."

"Show me!" Ellia demanded, scrambling up. "I command you! Teach me the dangerous numbers!"

Line.

"Well..." I pretended to hesitate. "If you insist. But we have to go to the chalkboard. And you have to promise not to explode."

"I promise!"

Sinker.

I stood up, feeling a surge of triumph. I had done it. I had reverse-psychologized the demon brat.

I walked to the chalkboard stand in the corner of the room. "Alright. The secret starts with the Times Tables of Seven. Watch closely."

I picked up the chalk. I turned my back to her to write 7 x 1 = 7.

"The first rule of power," I lectured, "is precision. If you miss a number, the spell fails."

"I see," Ellia’s voice came from right behind me. "But you forgot the most important rule of the West Wing."

I paused. "And what is that?"

"Never turn your back on the Lion."

Click.

I heard a sound. A mechanical sound. Like a spring being released.

I spun around.

Ellia was standing there, holding a rope she had just yanked from the wall. She was grinning. A wide, terrifying, Cheshire Cat grin.

"Duck," she whispered.

I looked up.

Above the chalkboard, concealed in the molding, was a small wooden hatch. It swung open.

It wasn’t a book this time. It wasn’t feathers.

It was dust.

Specifically, Pixie Glitter Dust. The kind used for royal parades. The kind that glowed in the dark, stuck to everything, and was notoriously impossible to wash off.

POOF.

A cloud of sparkling pink and gold explosion engulfed me. I coughed, waving my hands, but it was useless. I was coated. My hair. My eyelashes. My teeth. I looked like a disco ball had exploded inside a bakery.

"Multiplication is boring!" Ellia cackled, dancing around me. "Glitter is forever!"

She bolted for the door, unlocked it with a key she had swiped from my pocket while I was distracted by the caramel (how?), and slipped out.

"Bye Nanny!" she called out before slamming the heavy ironwood door.

CLANK. CLANK.

She locked me in.

I stood there in the silence, glowing pink in the afternoon sun. I spat out a mouthful of glitter.

"Round Two," I muttered, wiping my eyes. "Goes to the Lion."

---

That Evening.

When I finally walked into the daycare (after Leonora let me out an hour later, apologizing profusely), the room went silent.

I looked like a magical disaster. I was still sticky from the sap. I had white feathers glued to my elbows. And from head to toe, I was shimmering with pink Pixie Dust. I sparkled with every step.

Jax, my adult fox assistant, dropped the coin he was flipping.

Luna, my adult bunny baker, dropped a tray of fresh biscuits.

Caspian slowly lowered his book.

"Do not ask," I said, holding up a sparkling hand. "Just... do not."

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