Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband-Chapter 68: The Prince’s Legs and the Silent Voice

The currents around the Sunless City were cold, but the atmosphere inside the Royal Hangar was absolutely freezing.

Caspian stood by the transport gate, leaning heavily on his trident. He had swapped his ruined volcanic armor for a high-collared tunic of woven sea-silk, dark enough to hide the bandages on his shoulder. The corruption—the Void Virus—was currently dormant, suppressed by Primrose’s glowing blue herb paste, but the grey, cracked veins were creeping up his neck like frost.

"Are you sure about this, Neighbor?" Primrose asked, shivering slightly. She didn’t have her chef’s uniform. She was wearing a borrowed Jiaoren robe that was three sizes too big and made of slippery kelp-fabric. She clutched a waterproof satchel containing the Sun-Pearl to her chest. "You look like you’re about to pass out. Morana won’t attack the moment you leave. We could rest for an hour."

"Morana is a viper," Caspian gritted out, checking the saddle of his Sea Drake. "If I show weakness now, she strikes. If I stay, she poisons the court against me. The only move is to leave, secure the Alliance you so boldly lied about, and return with backup."

He looked down at the small figure floating beside him.

Prince Orion, the Heir to the Deep, was vibrating with excitement. He was wearing a tiny backpack made of shells, filled with slate tablets and his favorite rocks.

"We are going to the Surface?" Orion chirped, doing a little flip in the water. "To see the Sun? And the Dirt? And the Geometry of the Buildings?"

"Yes," Caspian said, softening his tone. "But it is dangerous, Orion. You must stay close to Primrose. And you must not calculate the trajectory of falling objects by dropping things off cliffs." 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

"I promise!" Orion beamed. "I will only calculate inside my head!"

Crustar scuttled over, wringing his claws so hard they clicked like castanets. "Your Majesty! Taking the Prince? Is this wise? The insurance premiums for a Royal Heir on land are astronomical! And what if he dries out? What if a seagull pecks him?"

"The Palace is compromised," Caspian cut him off. "Morana has spies in the nursery. The safest place for my son is with me. Or rather..." He looked at Primrose. "...with the Ambassador."

Primrose sighed, patting Orion’s head. "Don’t worry, Crustar. I run a daycare. One more cub won’t break me. Though I might need to charge extra for Political Exile services."

"Go," Caspian commanded.

He grabbed Primrose’s hand with his good arm. He grabbed Orion with his tail.

With a powerful surge of mana, they shot out of the hangar, bypassing the slow currents and entering the Slipstream—the high-speed underwater highway that connected the Deep to the Shallows.

Breaking the surface was always a shock.

One moment, they were surrounded by the crushing, silent blue of the ocean. The next, they burst into the blinding, noisy world of air and sunlight.

They washed up on the private beach cove near the Warlords’ territory. The sand was warm, the sky was a brilliant, cloudless blue, and the seagulls were screaming insults at each other.

Caspian dragged himself onto the sand, gasping as the air hit his gills. The transition was harder this time because of the injury. He fell to his knees, his tail thrashing in the surf.

"Caspian!" Primrose stumbled in the shallow water, rushing to him. Her kelp-robe was soaked and clinging to her, making her look like a very unhappy piece of sushi. "Are you okay?"

"I... am... fine," he wheezed.

A shimmer of teal light enveloped him. His tail split, bones reshaping, scales retracting. It was a painful process, made worse by the corruption. When the light faded, he was human(ish) again. He wore black trousers and boots that materialized with the magic, but he stumbled as he tried to stand.

"Daddy fell over!" Orion shouted.

The little prince had also transformed. Gone was the finned tail. In its place were two small, knobby-kneed legs.

Orion stood up. He looked down at his new feet with intense fascination.

"Legs," Orion whispered. "Two pillars of support. Center of gravity... adjusting."

He took one confident step forward.

His knees buckled inward. He crossed his ankles. He windmilled his arms.

SPLAT.

Orion face-planted directly into a pile of wet sand.

"Oof! The ground is broken!" Orion complained, lifting his head and spitting out grit. "It doesn’t hold me up like water! It is rude!"

"It’s called gravity, genius," Primrose laughed, picking him up and dusting him off. "You have to balance. Like this."

She demonstrated walking. Orion mimicked her, wobbling like a newborn giraffe on ice skates.

"Okay," Primrose said, looking down at herself. "Now, the bigger problem. I look like a drowned rat."

She wrung out her hair. Water splashed everywhere. She didn’t have her dimensional bag because she never had one—she had lost everything when she was kidnapped. She was just a wet, tail-less fox in a stolen dress.

"I can’t walk into the city like this," she groaned. "I look like I lost a fight with a washing machine."

Caspian stood up, steadying himself. He looked at her shivering form. He raised his good hand.

"Hold still."

A pulse of heat—pure thermal energy—radiated from his palm. He didn’t touch her, but he passed his hand over her clothes. Steam erupted from the fabric.

Whoosh.

In seconds, the kelp-robe was dry. It was still a weird, oversized green dress that smelled like soup, but at least it wasn’t wet. Her hair puffed up instantly into a frizzy, chaotic mess.

"Better?" Caspian asked, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

"I look like a dandelion," Primrose deadpanned, trying to smooth her hair down. "But yes. Thank you. Let’s go before the seagulls decide we’re lunch."

The walk through the city was a blur. Primrose moved with a frantic energy, ignoring the merchants who stared at the strange trio: a frizzy-haired woman in a green robe, a tall, scary man in black, and a child who walked like he was drunk.

When the sign of Little Whiskers came into view, Primrose’s heart stopped.

The building was standing.

There was no smoke. No rubble. No police tape. The sign was swinging gently in the breeze.

"It... it’s still there," she whispered, clutching her satchel. "The signal said Level 5... but it’s still there."

She ran to the door, fumbled with the handle, and threw it open.

"GUYS!"

The scene inside was painfully, beautifully normal.

Luna was at the counter, frosting cupcakes with intense concentration.

Clover was sitting on the rug, drawing on a piece of paper.

Vali and Arjun were wrestling over a toy sword near the window.

Jasper was reading a book about economics.

Jax was leaning against the wall, flipping a coin.

And Finn was showing Clover a magic trick with a pebble.

Silas was curled up on the highest shelf, seemingly asleep.

The shout made everyone freeze.

"PRIMROSE!"

The stampede was instant.

" Prim!" Clover squealed, dropping her crayons and sprinting.

"Chef!" Arjun yelled, abandoning the sword.

"You’re back!" Vali howled.

They hit her with the force of a small meteorite. Primrose fell to her knees, laughing and crying as she was buried in hugs, fur, and questions.

"I thought... I thought..." Primrose sobbed, hugging Clover so tight the bunny squeaked. "The signal! Crustar said there was a Level 5 Explosion! I thought the shop blew up! I thought you were hurt!"

The room went deadly silent.

Arjun looked at Vali.

Vali looked at Jasper.

Jax caught his coin and put it in his pocket.

"Explosion?" Arjun blinked, his tiger ears twitching with feigned innocence. "What explosion? Did you hear an explosion, Vali?"

"Nope," Vali lied, his face a mask of pure, unconvincing confusion. "Maybe it was thunder? It rained really hard last night. Big boom. Very scary."

"Statistically," Jasper added, pushing his glasses up his nose, "atmospheric pressure can trigger false positives in deep-sea communication arrays. It is a common error."

"And the Clock Tower?" Primrose asked, wiping her eyes. "The report said the Old Clock Tower on the cliff was gone."

"Oh, that," Jax stepped forward, his smile easy and charming. "Old thing finally collapsed on its own. Termites. Nasty bugs. Terrible shame. But hey, no one was hurt. We were all here... sleeping. Peacefully."

Primrose looked at them. She looked at their guilty, shifting eyes. She looked at the tiny scrape on Arjun’s nose and the fresh bandage on Jax’s arm.

She knew they were lying through their teeth. She knew they had done something incredibly dangerous.

But they were alive. They were safe. And right now, she didn’t have the energy to scold them.

"You little rascals," she whispered, pulling them into another hug. "I missed you so much."

"Wait," Primrose looked around. "Where is Silas?"

Usually, the Panther cub would be the first to shadow-step over to her. He was the quietest, but he was always close.

A shadow shifted on the high shelf.

Silas dropped down. He landed silently on the floor in front of Primrose.

He walked up to Primrose. He didn’t hug her. He didn’t pull out his sketchbook. He just stared at her with those intense eyes.

Primrose knelt down. "Silas? Did you miss me, buddy?"

She reached for his sketchbook, expecting him to draw a picture.

Silas pushed the sketchbook away.

He opened his mouth.

"You were gone too long," Silas said.

His voice was raspy, unused, and quiet, but it was clear.

The room froze.

Silas—the mute Panther, the boy who had never spoken a single word since coming to the daycare—had just spoken.

"Silas?" Primrose whispered, her hands shaking. "You... you can talk?"

Silas nodded once. He pointed at the cubs, then at the door, then at Primrose.

"We protected the Pack," Silas said, his eyes burning with pride. "Welcome home, Primrose."