Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband novel Chapter 94

Chapter 94: The Warlords’ Pledge and The Safety Rock

Little Whiskers Daycare (The Night Before)

If the Debutante Ball was a war, then the night before was the logistical nightmare where everyone realizes they lost their socks.

The capital city was awake. Lanterns burned in every window. Carriages rattled over the cobblestones. The air buzzed with the frenetic energy of a thousand nobles trying to squeeze into corsets and polish their family jewels.

Inside Little Whiskers Daycare, the panic was less about jewelry and more about hygiene.

"Vali, stop licking your suit!" I shouted, chasing the Wolf Cub with a lint roller. "Saliva is not a cleaning product!"

"It is natural polish!" Vali argued, trying to chew on his red bow tie. "It adds shine!"

"It adds smell!" Jasper (Snake) critiqued, carefully ironing a tiny handkerchief on a stack of books. "And you smell like wet dog."

"I am a wet dog! I took a bath!"

I collapsed onto the sofa, blowing a stray hair out of my eyes. The apartment looked like a tornado had hit a haberdashery. Tiny suits, ribbons, and shoes were scattered everywhere.

In twenty-four hours, the Treaty would be signed. Ellia would be debuted. And then... we would leave to save Caspian.

Speaking of the King, he was sitting in the corner with Orion. They were practicing Small Talk.

"Observation: The weather is mild," Orion droned.

"Response: Indeed," Caspian replied, looking intense. "It is conducive to agriculture."

"Query: Do you enjoy the sport of balls?"

"Correction: It is dancing, Orion. Do not ask the Duke if he enjoys balls."

I rubbed my temples. We were doomed.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

The door didn’t just rattle; the hinges screamed.

The room went silent. Silas (Panther) dissolved into a shadow. Vali growled.

I stood up, smoothing my apron. "If that’s the flour delivery, tell him to leave it on the porch!"

I opened the door.

It wasn’t the flour guy.

Standing on the doorstep, illuminated by the streetlamps and radiating enough magical pressure to flatten a small building, were the Four Warlords.

General Rajah was in full dress uniform—white military coat with gold epaulets, medals gleaming on his chest, his striped tail swishing with lethal precision.

Archduke Cassian wore a high-collared black robe embroidered with silver runes, his monocle flashing in the dark.

Lord Rurik was wearing... well, he was wearing a suit. It was struggling to contain his muscles. The seams were screaming for mercy. He looked like a boulder trying to wear a napkin.

Duke Lucien was simply there, blending into the darkness, wearing a suit of midnight blue velvet.

They didn’t look like dads picking up their kids. They looked like they were about to invade a country.

"Gentlemen?" I blinked. "Pickup time isn’t for another hour."

"We are not here for retrieval," Rajah stated, his voice a deep rumble. He stepped into the room.

The cubs scrambled. Arjun ran to his dad’s leg. Vali tried to climb Rurik like a tree.

"Then what are you here for?" I asked, backing up slightly.

The Four Warlords lined up in the center of the room. It was terrifying. It was the most dangerous lineup in the Empire, and they were standing on a rug covered in glitter glue.

"Tomorrow," Cassian began, adjusting his cuffs, "is a battlefield. The political landscape is treacherous. The Vipers will strike. The Hyenas will laugh."

"And you," Lucien whispered, stepping forward, "are walking into the den without claws."

Rajah drew his sword. The steel sang in the quiet room.

He didn’t point it at me. He reversed it, offering the hilt.

"Primrose," Rajah said solemnly. "You have protected our heirs. You have fed them. You have taught them. You have kept them safe when we could not."

Rurik slammed a fist against his chest. "You made me eat broccoli. No one makes Rurik eat broccoli. You are strong."

Cassian tapped his crystal slate. "My calculations indicate a 99% probability that the nobility will attempt to intimidate you tomorrow. They will see a commoner Nanny."

He looked up, his snake eyes narrowing.

"We wish to correct that variable."

Rajah planted his sword tip into the floorboards (I winced—my security deposit!).

"Tomorrow," Rajah declared, "the Warlords of the High Council do not attend as guests. We attend as your Honor Guard."

My mouth fell open. "My... what?"

"Anyone who looks at you wrong," Rurik grinned, baring his fangs, "I bite them. Just a little. A nibble."

"If anyone insults you," Lucien promised, "their wine will turn to vinegar in their glass."

"If anyone questions your standing," Cassian finished, "they will answer to the combined economic and military might of the Four Clans."

I looked at them. These terrifying, powerful men who ruled the continent.

I felt tears prick my eyes.

"You guys," I sniffled. "You’re going to make me cry, and I don’t have waterproof mascara."

"Do not cry," Rurik panicked, patting my head with a hand the size of a shovel. "Have some jerky."

"Wait!"

Clover hopped onto the coffee table. She was wearing her pajamas (which had little carrots on them).

"Ellia needs weapons too!" Clover announced.

"Weapons are prohibited in the ballroom," Cassian noted.

"Not this weapon," Clover insisted. She reached into her pocket and pulled out...

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify