Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband-Chapter 46: The Ghost in the Shell

The next morning—or what passed for morning in a city that never saw the sun—I was back in the Prince’s mausoleum of a bedroom.

I had spent the "night" in the East Wing, which was surprisingly comfortable (if you ignored the fact that my bed was a giant, hollowed-out sponge). But I couldn’t sleep. I went to work.

I sat on the edge of the giant pearl-shell, holding a fresh bowl of warm, emulsified "Sea-Oat Porridge."

"Okay, little star," I whispered, holding the spoon near Prince Orion’s pale lips. "Open up. This one has honey-kelp in it. It’s sweet."

Orion blinked his large, seafoam-green eyes at me. He was so small. So fragile. He looked less like a Royal Heir and more like a frightened minnow that had lost its school.

He opened his mouth obediently, but he didn’t make a sound. He swallowed the porridge slowly, his tiny, webbed hands gripping the edge of his blanket until his knuckles turned white.

"Is it good?" I asked softly.

Orion hesitated. Then, he gave a microscopic nod.

"Good," I smiled, wiping a speck of porridge from his chin. "You have to eat to get big and strong. Your tail needs fuel to grow those shiny scales."

He looked down at his pale, limp tail. He looked ashamed.

"It... hurts," Orion whispered. It was the first thing he’d said to me besides ’warm.’

"I know," I said, my heart squeezing.

"Growing pains are the worst. But the pain means the magic is moving again. It means you’re fighting."

I reached out and gently patted his head. His hair was soft, floating in the water like silk. He flinched at first, expecting pain or a reprimand, but when I just smoothed his hair, he leaned into my hand.

He was starving. Not just for food, but for touch. For kindness.

"Are you..." Orion’s voice was barely a bubble. "Are you the Fox Lady from the stories?"

"Stories?" I asked.

"The guards say... a Fox came to eat us," he murmured, his eyes wide with fear.

"No," I chuckled, keeping my voice low. "I’m not here to eat you. I’m here to feed you. I’m a Nanny. And a Chef."

I leaned in closer. "And between you and me? I think you’re going to be the strongest swimmer in the ocean one day."

Orion stared at me, a tiny spark of hope lighting up his dull eyes.

I was so focused on him, so wrapped up in the "Nanny Mode," that I didn’t hear the water shift behind me.

"He speaks."

The voice was deep, smooth, and right in my ear.

"GAH!"

I jumped, nearly dropping the porridge bowl. I spun around, water swirling frantically around my dress.

King Caspian was floating inches away from me.

He was hovering horizontally, his arms crossed over his bare chest, his massive iridescent tail coiling lazily in the space behind him. He looked terrifyingly regal, but there was a hint of amusement in those teal eyes.

"Jesus!" I gasped, clutching my chest. "Do you have a bell? Or a horn? You can’t just sneak up on people like that! My heart rate is already stressed enough!"

"I did not sneak," Caspian said calmly, drifting upright. "I swam. You were simply... distracted."

He looked past me, at his son.

Orion shrank back into his shell. The spark in his eyes vanished, replaced by fear and awe. He looked at his father like he was looking at a god, not a dad.

"He looks better," Caspian observed, his voice devoid of the warmth I used with the boy. "His color is improving."

"He ate the whole bowl," I said, still trying to slow my heart rate. "And he talked. He asked if I was going to eat him."

Caspian frowned. "A reasonable concern. Foxes are predators."

"I’m a vegetarian fox right now," I snapped defensively. "Mostly."

I looked from the terrifying, beautiful King to the shrinking, terrified Prince. The dynamic was all wrong. It was cold. It was formal.

"Caspian," I said, dropping the honorifics because, hey, we were both from earth. "Why is he so scared of you?"

Caspian’s fin twitched. "He is not scared. He is respectful. I am the King."

"You’re his dad," I corrected. "And he’s five. He needs a hug, not a speech."

Caspian looked uncomfortable. He shifted in the water, looking at the crystals on the ceiling. "I... am not good at ’hugs’. I am an architect. I build structures. I do not nurture."

"You’re a human being inside a fish," I whispered harshly. "Fake it."

Caspian sighed. He looked at Orion.

"Rest, Orion," Caspian commanded stiffly. "Grow strong."

Orion nodded quickly, pulling the blanket up to his nose.

I watched the interaction, feeling a pang of annoyance. Then, a thought hit me. A question that had been bugging me since I saw the "Pearl-Blockage."

"Hey," I said, swimming after Caspian as he turned to leave. "Wait up."

Caspian stopped near the archway. "Yes, Chef?"

"Where is she?" I asked quietly.

Caspian raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"His mother," I said. "The Queen. Pearl-Blockage comes from grief. Usually from losing a parent. Orion is grieving someone. Where is his mom?"

The temperature in the room dropped.

The amusement vanished from Caspian’s face. His teal eyes went dark, shifting from ’Neighbor’ back to ’King of the Deep.’

He turned his back to me.

"That," Caspian said, his voice as cold as the trench outside, "is a subject we do not discuss."

"But—"

"She is gone," Caspian cut me off. "She did her duty to the bloodline, and she is gone. I do not wish to recall the memories. They are... unpleasant."

"Unpleasant?" I pressed. "Orion is dying of grief, and you call it ’unpleasant’?"

Caspian whipped around. For a second, I saw a flash of raw, human anger—not at me, but at the world. At the system that had trapped him here.

"I was forced, Primrose," he hissed. "I did not choose a wife. I did not choose this life. I was forced to participate in a ritual to ensure the magic continued. It was not love. It was biology and politics."

He looked at the sleeping boy.

"When I look at him," Caspian whispered, "I do not see a romance. I see the cage I have been trapped in for twenty-five years."

He looked at me, his eyes pleading for understanding.

"Do not ask me about the Queen again. There is no Queen. There is only the King, the Heir... and now, you."

He turned and swam away, leaving me floating in the silence, holding an empty bowl of porridge.

Okay, I thought, shivering. So the ’Final Boss’ has some serious trauma. Noted.

I looked back at Orion.

Guess I’m playing Mom and Dad for a while.