Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband novel Chapter 88

Chapter 88: The Battle of the Soup Spoon and The Leviathan Nanny

Day Twelve of Tutoring.

The enemy was round, made of porcelain, and filled with a creamy mushroom bisque.

Lady Ellia stared at the soup bowl as if it were a landmine.

"This is impossible," she declared, slamming her hands on the table. "The spoon is too small! It is a ladle for ants! How am I supposed to nourish myself with this... this thimble?"

Across the table, Countess Giselle did not look impressed. She tapped her cane against the floor. Click.

"You do not ’nourish’ yourself in polite society, Lady Ellia," Giselle hissed, her arm feathers rustling. "You dine. And you do so silently. Dip away from you. Skim the surface. Bring it to your lips without slumping. No slurping. No clanking."

Grand Duke Bastion, who was trying to be a supportive father by participating in the lesson, looked equally stressed. He held his own spoon with the grim determination of a man holding a grenade.

"Just... dip and lift, Ellia," Bastion whispered. "Like... like scooping water from a river."

Ellia tried. She dipped the spoon. She lifted it.

CLANG.

The spoon hit her teeth.

"Gah!" Ellia dropped the spoon. Soup splattered onto the white tablecloth.

Giselle closed her eyes. "Disgraceful. A true lady eats as if she is a ghost. Silent. Invisible."

Ellia growled low in her throat. "I am not a ghost! I am a Lion! Lions tear their meat! We do not sip mushroom water with tiny silver sticks!"

She looked ready to flip the table.

I stepped in. Time for the Primrose Translation Method.

"Ellia," I said, wiping the soup off the table. "You’re thinking about it wrong. Don’t think of it as eating."

Ellia looked at me, desperate. "Then what is it?"

"It’s... bomb disposal," I lied smoothly.

Bastion choked on his bisque.

"Bomb disposal?" Ellia’s eyes widened.

"Yes," I nodded gravely. "The soup is... highly volatile acid. If you splash it, it burns through the table. If you clank the spoon against the bowl, the vibration sets off the explosion."

I leaned in.

"Your mission, Agent Lion, is to drain the acid without triggering the trap. You must be silent. You must be steady. The fate of the tablecloth depends on you."

Ellia looked at the bowl. She looked at the spoon. Her posture shifted instantly. She wasn’t a bored child anymore; she was a specialist on a high-stakes mission.

She picked up the spoon with surgical precision.

She dipped it away from her. (To direct the blast radius outward, obviously).

She skimmed the surface. (To avoid disturbing the core).

She brought it to her mouth without a sound.

Sip.

She lowered the spoon. Not a single drop spilled. Not a single clank was heard.

Giselle’s eyes snapped open. She watched Ellia take three more perfect mouthfuls.

The Iron Swan looked at me. She adjusted her spectacles.

"Tutor," Giselle said dryly. "If you tell her the salad fork is a dagger, I am going to retire."

"It’s not a dagger," I winked. "It’s a trident."

---

While Primrose was busy averting soup-based disasters at the Palace, the Daycare was under new management.

King Caspian sat in the center of the rug. He was wearing the clothes Primrose had bought him—a soft linen shirt and dark trousers—and around his neck, the Star-Iron pendant hummed with a low, steady vibration, keeping the grey veins on his chest frozen in stasis.

He looked every inch the regal King of the Deep.

Except for the fact that he was currently buried under a pile of puppies, bunnies, and one very energetic tiger.

"Submit!" Arjun roared, climbing onto Caspian’s back. "The King has fallen! The Tiger Clan claims the throne!"

"The King has not fallen," Caspian corrected calmly, turning a page of his book (The Little Prince, which he found fascinating). "The King is merely acting as a structural foundation. Do not pull my hair, Arjun."

"I want a horsey ride!" Vali demanded, tugging on Caspian’s left arm. "Primrose gives us horsey rides!"

"I am a Leviathan," Caspian stated. "I do not ’neigh’."

"Please do not fracture the King," Jasper advised, coiling neatly on the armrest of the chair, adjusting his glasses. "We do not know the bone density of a merman. If you break him, the structural integrity of the pack is compromised."

From the shadows beneath Caspian’s legs, a small black paw swatted at his ankle. Silas blinked his glowing eyes. "I am the assassin in the deep," Silas whispered. "You are the mountain. I climb you."

Jax leaned against the wall, flipping a gold coin. He wore his usual green shirt and tie loosely, looking like a sly hustler taking a break.

"Looking good, Your Highness," Jax smirked, his fox ears twitching with amusement. "A little less ’King of the Seven Seas’ and a little more ’Playground Equipment’, but it suits you."

"Your commentary is noted, Fox," Caspian sighed.

"Hey, Jax!"

Finn ran past, wearing a matching cap. Finn leaped off the sofa and landed squarely on Caspian’s knee.

"Parkour!" Finn yelled.

"Finn, get off the King," Jax called out, though he didn’t stop leaning. "If you break him, we have to pay for it."

"He’s sturdy!" Finn argued, poking Caspian’s chest. "Like a rock!"

Luna walked out of the kitchen with a tray of apple slices. Her long ears flopped gently as she walked over to Jax, offering him a slice first.

"Be nice, Jax," Luna chided gently, pecking him on the cheek. "He’s helping. And he’s doing a great job."

Jax took the apple slice, his smirk softening into a genuine smile as he looked at his girlfriend. "Whatever you say, beautiful. But if he starts singing sea shanties, I’m charging overtime."

Clover hopped over to Luna and tugged on her apron. "Sissy! Sissy look!"

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