Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband novel Chapter 76

Chapter 76: The Helmet, The Trumpet, and The War of Attrition

The third day.

I walked toward the ironwood doors of the West Wing feeling less like a Tutor and more like a knight marching into a dragon’s mouth.

Princess Leonora was waiting for me by the entrance, wringing her hands. She took one look at my outfit and blinked.

I was wearing my usual grey dress and apron. But on my head, strapped tight under my chin, was a solid steel helmet I had borrowed from the Royal Guard armory. It was polished to a mirror shine and had a little red plume on top.

"Primrose?" Leonora whispered. "Is... is that a helmet?"

"It is a cranial protection unit," I corrected, tapping the metal. Clang. "Caspian suggested it. And after the Encyclopedia Incident of Yesterday, I am inclined to agree."

"You look..." Leonora searched for a polite word. "...prepared."

"Open the door, Leo. Let’s see what the Calamity has planned for today."

The locks clicked. The door opened.

I stepped inside.

SPLAT.

A water balloon the size of a pumpkin dropped from the ceiling mechanism.

BONK.

It bounced harmlessly off my steel helmet and exploded on the floor, soaking my shoes.

"Ha!" I pointed a finger at the ceiling. "Defense +10! Nice try, kid!"

From the top of the bookshelf, Lady Ellia hissed. She looked like an angry, golden spider.

"You’re cheating!" she shrieked. "Helmets are for soldiers! Tutors are supposed to be soft and squishy!"

"Adapt or perish, little Lion," I said, wiping a droplet of water from my nose. I walked over to the table (checking for glue first), pulled out a chair (checking for tacks), and sat down.

I took off the helmet and set it on the table with a heavy thud.

"Okay," I said, opening my satchel. "Let’s begin."

The problem, as I quickly discovered, was not that Ellia couldn’t learn. It was that she actively invested 100% of her energy into preventing learning from happening.

"Today," I announced, pulling out a slate, "we are going to learn about Geography. The Empire has four major territories..."

HOOOOOOOOOONK.

I paused.

Ellia had produced a trumpet. A dented, rusty brass trumpet that looked like it had been chewed on by a dragon.

"As I was saying," I raised my voice slightly. "The North is ruled by the Wolves..."

HOOOOOO-PFFFT-SQUEAAAK-HONK!

Ellia blew into the instrument with the force of a hurricane. It wasn’t music. It was the sound of a mechanical goose dying in agony.

"Ellia," I sighed. "Put the trumpet down."

"I can’t hear you!" she yelled, blowing again. "I am practicing for the Royal Orchestra! My uncle loves music!"

"Your uncle loves silence," I muttered.

I tried to ignore it. I channeled my inner Jasper and focused on logic. I continued reading the geography lesson.

Ellia escalated. She jumped off the bookshelf (trumpet in hand) and began marching around the table, blasting discordant notes directly into my ear.

HONK. HONK. SCREEEE.

My eye twitched. The sound was vibrating my molars.

Okay, Clover said to be myself, I thought desperately. What would Primrose do?

Primrose would bake.

I reached into my bag and pulled out two large, fluffy balls of cotton wool. I stuffed them into my ears. The world became a muffled, peaceful hum.

Then, I pulled out a small, portable mana-stove (a gift from Jax) and a bag of flour.

I ignored the trumpet. I ignored the marching. I started kneading dough on the table.

Ellia stopped honking. She lowered the trumpet. I couldn’t hear what she said, but I saw her mouth move.

What are you doing?

I pointed to my ears and shook my head. Can’t hear you. Too much honking.

I went back to kneading. I threw the dough in the air. I dusted it with sugar. The smell of raw vanilla dough began to drift through the room.

Ellia vibrated with frustration. She blew the trumpet right at the dough.

I didn’t react. I just shaped the dough into little lions and popped them into the mana-stove.

Five minutes later, the smell of fresh cookies filled the room.

Ellia dropped the trumpet. She grabbed my arm and yanked one of the cotton balls out of my ear.

"GIVE ME A COOKIE!" she roared.

"Oh?" I blinked innocently. "Is the concert over? I thought you were practicing for the opera."

"The concert is on intermission!" Ellia snapped, eyeing the oven. "Payment is required for the artist!"

"Payment," I mused. "Well, usually artists get paid after a good performance. But..."

I pulled a cookie out. It was golden brown and shaped like a lion head.

"Tell me one thing," I said, holding the cookie out of reach. "Just one. Where do the Wolves live?"

Ellia glared at me. Her golden eyes shifted from the cookie to my face. She looked like she was calculating the odds of biting my hand off vs. answering the question.

"The North," she spat out. "The Frozen Wastes. Lord Rurik rules from the Iron Citadel. It’s cold and smells like wet dogs. Now give me the cookie."

I smiled. "Correct."

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify