Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband-Chapter 77: The Butter Slide and the Whispering Shadow

At the Crack of Dawn.

The inspection began before I had even finished my first cup of coffee.

I sat at the daycare table, feeling like a prize poodle at a dog show. General Rajah was currently holding my wrist, inspecting a small, faint blue stain on my forearm.

"Is this a bruise?" Rajah growled, his tail lashing. "Did the Lion Cub bite you? Do I need to march into the Palace and remind Leonis that Tutors are protected under the Warlord Accords?"

"It’s marker ink, Rajah," I sighed, rubbing the spot until it faded. "I am fine. The Emperor is intense, but he keeps his word. And Ellia is just... a lot of energy."

King Caspian sat in the corner, sipping tea. Suddenly, he frowned. He set his cup down and leaned forward, his teal eyes narrowing as he looked at me.

"Neighbor," Caspian said, his voice low. "Hold still."

He reached out and touched the sleeve of my dress. He rubbed the fabric between his fingers, then sniffed it.

"What is it?" I asked. "Do I smell like stress?"

"You smell like... ozone," Caspian murmured, looking disturbed. "And cold ash. faint, but it is there. Have you been near a Rift?"

"I’ve only been to the Palace," I shrugged. "Maybe it’s the Emperor’s cologne. He smells like a thunderstorm."

Caspian didn’t look convinced, but Lord Rurik interrupted by slamming a bag of dried venison onto the table, and the moment passed.

"I have to go," I said, grabbing my survival kit. "If I’m late, the Emperor adds another Gryphon to the pit."

"If he touches you," Rajah called out, "I will turn his throne into a scratching post."

---

I arrived at the ironwood doors feeling armored by the Warlords’ love. I unlocked the heavy bolts and stepped inside.

"Good morning, Lady El—WHOA!"

My foot hit the floor, and friction ceased to exist.

I slid—literally slid—across the room, windmilling my arms until I gently bumped into the far wall.

"Butter," I whispered, touching the creamy floorboards. "She buttered the entire room."

From the chandelier, Lady Ellia cackled. "Strike! Welcome to the Skating Rink of Doom!"

I sat there, coated in grease. But as I looked up at the girl swinging from the crystal fixture, I noticed something.

Ellia was laughing, but her eyes... they weren’t focused on me. She was looking at the empty corner of the room.

And for a split second, her shadow on the wall didn’t match her movement. She swung left. The shadow stayed still for a heartbeat longer than physics should allow.

"Did you see that?" Ellia whispered to the empty air. "She fell down. Just like you said she would."

A chill went down my spine.

"Who are you talking to, Ellia?" I called out, wiping butter from my cheek.

Ellia snapped her head toward me. Her eyes flashed—not just gold, but with a flicker of dull violet.

"No one!" she shouted, her voice oddly layered, as if two people were speaking at once. "Just myself! Because I am crazy! Everyone says so!"

She jumped down, landing perfectly on a dry patch of furniture.

"Go away, Nanny," she hissed. "Before He gets bored of pranks and decides to break your legs instead."

---

After scrubbing the butter off, I went to find Princess Leonora.

"Leo, we need to talk," I said, collapsing onto her chaise lounge. "This isn’t just behavioral issues. I’ve raised wild cubs. I know the difference between acting out and malice."

I leaned forward. "Today, she buttered the room. But she was talking to someone. She said, Just like you said she would. Who is she talking to?"

Leonora went pale. She put down her paintbrush, her hands trembling.

"You heard it too?" she whispered.

"Heard what?"

"The... friend," Leonora said, her voice barely audible. "Ellia calls him Mr. Whisper. She started talking to him a month after her mother died."

"Her mother died last winter, right?" I asked. "How?"

"It was a strange illness," Leonora explained, looking out the window nervously. "Aunt Seraphina just... faded. She got cold. Her veins turned grey. The healers couldn’t stop it."

My blood ran cold. Veins turned grey.

That was exactly what happened to Caspian. That was the Void Corruption.

"Leo," I asked urgently. "Does Ellia have any... magical outbursts? Weird accidents?"

"Yes," Leonora admitted. "The fires. The breaking glass. It’s not just her throwing things. Sometimes, when she gets angry, the shadows in the room... stretch. It scares the staff. That’s why the Tutors leave. They say the room feels haunted."

I stood up and paced. The butter on my shoes made a squelching sound.

This wasn’t just a bratty kid. This was a child being groomed or corrupted by something dark. Something connected to the same virus that attacked I and Caspian in the Ocean.

"And her father?" I asked sharply. "Lord Bastion. Where is he?"

"Uncle Bastion is in the East Wing," Leonora sighed. "He hasn’t seen Ellia in months. He says she reminds him too much of Seraphina."

"That’s a lie," I realized aloud. "He isn’t staying away because of grief. He’s staying away because of fear."

"What?"

"He knows," I said, clenching my fists. "He knows his wife died of a dark magic, and he sees the same magic in his daughter. And instead of helping her, he’s hiding."

"Primrose, you can’t be suggesting..."

"I’m suggesting that Ellia is being manipulated by something evil," I said grimly. "That voice she hears? It’s telling her to be bad. It’s feeding on her isolation. Every time she acts out, the corruption gets stronger."

I grabbed my satchel.

"I need to see Lord Bastion. Now."

"He won’t see you," Leonora warned. "He is the Iron Wall. He locked the East Wing."

"I don’t care if he’s a wall," I said, my eyes flashing. "I have a grappling hook."

I marched to the door.

"If I don’t stop this, Leo, that little girl isn’t going to just fail a debutante ball. She’s going to turn into a monster for real."

---

The East Wing was dark, quiet, and smelled of stale air and fear.

I marched past the confused guards ("Make way for the Royal Tutor!"). I stopped in front of the black door with the Lion Crest.

I didn’t knock. I slammed my hand against the wood.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

"Lord Bastion!" I shouted. "Open this door! We need to talk about the ghost in your daughter’s head!"

Silence.

Then, the door creaked open.

Standing there was Lord Bastion. He looked like a wreck. His golden hair was unkempt, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was surrounded by open books about ancient curses.

He looked at me. Then he looked at the faint trace of grey residue on my arm—the same residue Caspian had smelled.

His expression shifted from annoyance to horror.

"You," he rasped. "You’ve been in the room with her? And you’re still... sane?"

"I’m a Nanny," I said, pushing past him into the room. "Insanity is part of the job description. Now, shut the door. We have a demon to exorcise."