Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband-Chapter 75: The Glitter Bomb and The Council of Terrible Advice
Later that afternoon.
Peace is a lie. Especially when it is bought with caramel.
Lady Ellia sat on the floor, scraping the last bits of golden sugar from the jar with a focus that was almost admirable. She looked like a small, sticky angel. Her golden curls bounced as she hummed a little tune.
I sat opposite her, still picking goose feathers out of my hair. My shoes were still tacky from the tree sap, making a wet shluck sound every time I shifted my weight.
Okay, Primrose, I thought, watching the Lion Cub. She’s fed. She’s sugar-crashed. Now is the time to strike with education.
I knew I couldn’t just open a textbook. She would shred it. I needed to be smarter. I needed to use Gamer Logic.
"You know," I said casually, leaning back in my chair. "It’s actually a good thing you hate studying. The Emperor was right."
Ellia paused, the spoon halfway to her mouth. Her ears twitched. "What did the Old Man say?"
"He said Math is too dangerous for cubs," I lied smoothly. "He said the Imperial Arithmancy is a secret art reserved only for the strongest minds. He specifically ordered me not to teach you the Equation of Power. He said your brain might... melt."
I sighed dramatically. "So, we’ll just do finger-painting. It’s safer for someone of your... capacity."
Hook.
Ellia’s eyes narrowed. The golden slits contracted. "My brain is made of steel! I am smarter than the Old Man! What is this... Equation of Power?"
"Oh, I couldn’t," I waved my hand. "It involves multiplication. Highly volatile stuff."
"Show me!" Ellia demanded, scrambling up. "I command you! Teach me the dangerous numbers!"
Line.
"Well..." I pretended to hesitate. "If you insist. But we have to go to the chalkboard. And you have to promise not to explode."
"I promise!"
Sinker.
I stood up, feeling a surge of triumph. I had done it. I had reverse-psychologized the demon brat.
I walked to the chalkboard stand in the corner of the room. "Alright. The secret starts with the Times Tables of Seven. Watch closely."
I picked up the chalk. I turned my back to her to write 7 x 1 = 7.
"The first rule of power," I lectured, "is precision. If you miss a number, the spell fails."
"I see," Ellia’s voice came from right behind me. "But you forgot the most important rule of the West Wing."
I paused. "And what is that?"
"Never turn your back on the Lion."
Click.
I heard a sound. A mechanical sound. Like a spring being released.
I spun around.
Ellia was standing there, holding a rope she had just yanked from the wall. She was grinning. A wide, terrifying, Cheshire Cat grin.
"Duck," she whispered.
I looked up.
Above the chalkboard, concealed in the molding, was a small wooden hatch. It swung open.
It wasn’t a book this time. It wasn’t feathers.
It was dust.
Specifically, Pixie Glitter Dust. The kind used for royal parades. The kind that glowed in the dark, stuck to everything, and was notoriously impossible to wash off.
POOF.
A cloud of sparkling pink and gold explosion engulfed me. I coughed, waving my hands, but it was useless. I was coated. My hair. My eyelashes. My teeth. I looked like a disco ball had exploded inside a bakery.
"Multiplication is boring!" Ellia cackled, dancing around me. "Glitter is forever!"
She bolted for the door, unlocked it with a key she had swiped from my pocket while I was distracted by the caramel (how?), and slipped out.
"Bye Nanny!" she called out before slamming the heavy ironwood door.
CLANK. CLANK.
She locked me in.
I stood there in the silence, glowing pink in the afternoon sun. I spat out a mouthful of glitter.
"Round Two," I muttered, wiping my eyes. "Goes to the Lion."
---
That Evening.
When I finally walked into the daycare (after Leonora let me out an hour later, apologizing profusely), the room went silent.
I looked like a magical disaster. I was still sticky from the sap. I had white feathers glued to my elbows. And from head to toe, I was shimmering with pink Pixie Dust. I sparkled with every step.
Jax, my adult fox assistant, dropped the coin he was flipping.
Luna, my adult bunny baker, dropped a tray of fresh biscuits.
Caspian slowly lowered his book.
"Do not ask," I said, holding up a sparkling hand. "Just... do not."
I walked to the nearest chair and collapsed. A small cloud of glitter puffed into the air around me.
"Is the Lion Cub... a tough nut to crack?" Luna asked tentatively, bringing me a glass of water. She brushed a stray feather off my shoulder with sisterly concern.
"She’s not a nut," I groaned, resting my forehead on the table. "She’s a puzzle wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a glitter bomb. I tried food. I tried reverse psychology. She ate the food, saw through the psychology, and vandalized my soul."
The room erupted into a war council. The kids gathered around, ready to offer their expert opinions.
"You are using the wrong tactics," Arjun declared, crossing his arms and flexing his small tiger muscles. "You need to Roar. Walk in, flip the table, and roar louder than her. Assert dominance. That’s what my dad does."
"Bad idea," Vali scoffed, shaking his wolf ears. "If you roar, she attacks. You need to bite her. Just a little nip on the ear. It means ’I am the Alpha, listen to me.’"
"Please do not bite the Princess," Jasper sighed, adjusting his glasses. "The diplomatic fallout would be catastrophic. The logical approach is Economic Sanctions. Confiscate her toys. Embargo her desserts. Cut off her supply lines."
"Or," Silas whispered from the shadows under the table. His eyes gleamed. "You wait until she sleeps. Then you paint her face. Fear is a good teacher."
"Too complicated," Finn grinned, tipping his cap. "Prank War. I can lend you some itching powder and a bag of phantom spiders. We fight fire with fire!"
"What about bribery?" Jax suggested from the wall, leaning back with a smirk. "Every royal has a price. Find out what she wants and buy her loyalty."
"No," Orion chimed in, holding up a block. "You must build a cage. A geometric containment unit. If she cannot move, she must listen to Math."
I looked at them. My violent, chaotic, adorable little warlords (and their enablers).
"Guys," I said tiredly. "I can’t bite, starve, prank, bribe, or imprison the Emperor’s niece. I need her to trust me. Not fear me."
I looked at Caspian. "You’re a King. How do you handle rebellious subjects?"
Caspian leaned back, crossing his arms. He looked amused, despite the gravity of the situation.
"In the Deep," he said smoothly, "I would simply flood the room until they apologized. However... drowning the girl might be frowned upon on the Surface."
"Yes," I deadpanned. "Drowning is generally considered bad pedagogy."
"Then," Caspian smirked, "I have no advice. My subjects usually obey because I am terrifying. You, Neighbor, are about as terrifying as a marshmallow."
I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "I’m doomed. I’m going to be fed to gryphons. And I’ll taste like glitter."
A soft hand touched my arm.
I looked up.
Clover was standing there, holding her Safety Rock. Her big olive eyes were full of concern.
"Prim?" Clover whispered.
"Yes, sweetie?"
"Arjun says roar. Vali says bite. But... you don’t do those things."
"No, I don’t."
"You bake cookies, make delicious food," Clover said simply. "And you give hugs."
She placed her rock on the table in front of me.
"Maybe Ellia is just scared too," Clover said. "Maybe she doesn’t need a Roar. Maybe she just needs you to be... you."
The room went quiet.
Luna nodded vigorously, wiping her hands on her apron. "Clover is right! Primrose, you tamed these wild boys—by being kind. You never tried to be a Warlord. You were just... Primrose."
I looked at Clover. I looked at Luna. I looked at the glitter on my hands.
They were right. I had been trying to outsmart Ellia. I had been trying to play her game—the game of pranks and power. But that was her home turf. I couldn’t beat a Lion at being a predator.
But I could beat her at being a human.
"You guys," I whispered, feeling my eyes water (which stung, because of the glitter). "You are the smartest family in the world."
I grabbed Clover and Luna and pulled them into a massive, sparkling hug.
"Thank you," I squeezed them. "You’re the best."
"Hey!" Arjun shouted, jumping up. "Unfair! I gave good advice too! Roaring is valid!"
"I want a hug!" Vali barked, charging into the pile.
"Group pile!" Finn yelled.
Suddenly, I was buried. Arjun, Vali, Jasper, Finn, Silas, and Orion all launched themselves at me. Even Jax leaned in to pat my head with a chuckle.
"Too heavy!" I laughed, falling backward onto the floor with a pile of cubs on top of me. "I can’t breathe!"
Caspian watched from his chair.
He stood up.
"Make room," the King commanded.
The cubs scrambled aside.
Caspian reached down. He didn’t join the pile. Instead, he grabbed my hand and pulled me effortlessly to my feet, scattering the children like bowling pins.
He plucked a pink feather from my hair.
"Be yourself, Neighbor," Caspian said softly, his voice cutting through the noise. "Because yourself... is quite formidable."
I smiled up at him, feeling my heart do that traitorous flip again.
"Okay," I said, dusting off my skirt. "Tomorrow, no tricks. No games. Just me, the Lion, and the truth."
"And maybe a helmet," Caspian suggested. "Just in case."
"And a helmet," I agreed. "Definitely a helmet."
