Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband-Chapter 185: The Hangover of a Thousand Years

The first thing Primrose noticed when she woke up was that the bed had shrunk.

Or rather, something in the bed had grown.

She tried to roll over to hug Caspian, but found herself immobilized by a massive, soft, warm weight pressing down on her legs and back.

Did Rurik sneak in here as a wolf again? she thought groggily. I told him the royal bed is a ’No-Shedding Zone’.

She opened one eye.

It wasn’t Rurik.

It was Tails.

Nine of them.

They weren’t the translucent, ghostly mana-tails she usually summoned during battle. These were physical. They were thick, luxurious, and covered in fur as white as snow, with tips that shimmered a deep, iridescent ocean blue.

They filled the entire bed. One was draped over Caspian’s chest. Another was acting as a pillow for her own head. Two more were swaying lazily in the air like hypnotic cobras.

"Oh no," Primrose whispered.

She tried to sit up. The tails moved with her, heavy and real. She felt the muscles at the base of her spine twitch.

Swish.

A tail knocked a glass of water off the nightstand.

Crash.

Caspian woke up instantly. He sat up, water magic already forming in his hand—until he realized the threat was his fiancée’s rear end.

He blinked. He looked at the mountain of silver-blue fur. He looked at Primrose.

"Prim?" Caspian asked, his voice thick with sleep. "You look... fluffy."

"They’re real," Primrose panicked, grabbing a tail with both hands. It felt soft, like the finest silk. "Caspian, they aren’t disappearing! I tried to dismiss them, but they just wagged!"

Caspian reached out. He touched the blue tip of one tail.

The moment his skin connected with the fur, a spark of blue electricity jumped between them. It wasn’t painful; it felt like a static shock of pure affection.

"The Merge," Caspian whispered, his eyes widening. "Ophelia didn’t just pass on her memories. She passed on her biology. You have fully awakened as a Nine-Tailed Sovereign."

Primrose flopped back onto the pillows (or rather, onto her own tails).

"Great," she groaned. "I have superpowers and a tail-grooming bill that will bankrupt the empire. How am I supposed to wear pants?"

"We will get you custom pants," Caspian promised, leaning over to kiss her forehead.

As his lips touched her skin, Primrose’s mind didn’t just register Caspian.

A flash of images assaulted her brain.

A Merman in golden armor laughing as he tried to braid her hair.

The taste of salt spray on a balcony that no longer existed.

The feeling of a trident’s weight in her hand.

"Etienne," Primrose whispered without thinking.

Caspian froze. He pulled back slightly.

Primrose blinked, the double-vision fading. She saw Caspian’s worried face.

"I... I remembered him," Primrose gasped, touching her temple. "It wasn’t like watching a movie. It felt like I was there. I remembered how he smelled. Like rain and iron."

"Ophelia," Caspian said softly.

"She’s in here," Primrose tapped her chest. "It’s not a voice. It’s... a feeling. An impulse."

She looked at the window.

"For example, right now, I have a sudden, overwhelming urge to go to the training grounds and beat Rurik in an arm-wrestling match."

Caspian chuckled. "That sounds like her."

"And," Primrose added, her stomach growling with the force of a tectonic shift, "I am starving. I need eggs. All of them."

Primrose wrapped a large silk robe around herself (cutting a slit in the back for the tails, which she did with a wince) and marched to the kitchen.

The tails followed her, floating slightly off the ground like a bridal train of doom.

The kitchen was already busy. Luna and Jax were there, making toast. The Warlords were drinking coffee.

Lucien, the Panther Warlord, was sitting in the darkest corner of the room, sipping black coffee. He usually blended into the shadows perfectly, but today, his eyes were wide, tracking the movement of Primrose’s tails with predatory fascination.

When Primrose entered, the room went silent.

Rurik dropped his mug.

"By the Founders," Rurik whispered. "You look... Apex."

It wasn’t just the tails. Primrose stood taller. Her skin glowed with a faint pearlescent sheen. The air around her vibrated with a low hum, like a high-tension wire.

"Morning," Primrose said casually, walking to the fridge. Her tails knocked over a chair. "Oops. Sorry. Still calibrating the rear-end radius."

Vali stared at her with wide red eyes. His wolf instincts were screaming ALPHA. He instinctively lowered his head.

Silas, the Panther Heir, popped his head out from under the table. His violet eyes locked onto the tails. They twitched. He twitched. It took every ounce of his self-control not to pounce.

Arjun, the Tiger Heir, nearly fell off his stool. He pushed up his glasses, analyzing the situation. "Tactical assessment: Auntie Prim has deployed heavy armor. Very impressive."

"I’m making omelets," Primrose announced. She grabbed a carton of eggs. "Who wants—"

CRACK.

She didn’t just crack the egg. She obliterated it.

Her grip strength, enhanced by the Sovereign physiology, turned the egg into a fine mist of shell and yolk.

"Okay," Primrose stared at her hand. "Too strong. Note to self: Do not high-five anyone today."

"Allow me," Jax said nervously, stepping in with a towel. "Maybe you should sit down, Your Majesty. You’re leaking mana."

"I am not leaking," Primrose huffed. She tried to use her Fire Tail to heat the skillet.

Usually, she summoned a small, controlled flame.

WHOOSH.

A column of silver fire erupted from her tail, engulfing the stove, the pan, and nearly singing Jax’s eyebrows.

"Fire in the hole!" Rajah roared, grabbing a bucket of water.

"No water!" Caspian yelled, freezing the water in mid-air before it could hit the grease fire. "Smother it!"

Primrose stared at the inferno she had created.

"Grandma!" she yelled at the ceiling. "Turn down the settings!"

She felt a phantom sensation—a mental click—and the fire vanished instantly.

The stove was melted slag.

"I think," Jasper said from under the table, "that we should order takeout."

An hour later, Primrose stood in the Palace Training Arena. She needed to burn off the energy.

"Okay," Primrose said, facing the Warlords. "Who’s first?"

Rajah stepped forward. "I’ve been wanting a rematch since the tournament."

He charged. Primrose didn’t dodge. She spun. Her tails hardened into steel whips, catching his blade and lifting him into the air with Gravity Magic. She tossed him gently into a hay pile.

Rurik laughed and shifted into his Beast Form. Primrose used her Water Tail to freeze his paws to the ground, causing him to face-plant.

"Anyone else?" Primrose asked, panting.

The arena was silent. Then, a shadow detached itself from the wall.

Lucien.

The Panther Warlord moved without sound. He didn’t charge like Rurik or strike like Rajah. He vanished.

Shadow Step.

He reappeared directly behind her, his dagger pressed against her neck—or where her neck would have been.

But Primrose was already gone.

She had Shadow Stepped too.

She appeared behind Lucien, tapping him on the shoulder.

"Too slow, Kitty," Primrose whispered, echoing Ophelia’s sass.

Lucien spun around, his eyes wide with rare surprise. "You can use the Shadow Arts?"

"I can use everything," Primrose grinned, her Black Tail flickering with darkness. "Ophelia learned a few tricks from the First Panther."

Lucien sheathed his dagger. He bowed low—a sign of immense respect from the silent assassin. "The Shadows welcome you, Sovereign."

After defeating the Warlords (and accidentally melting a training dummy), Primrose sat on a bench, panting.

Her tails finally relaxed, draping over the bench like a fluffy blanket.

Vali walked up to her. The little wolf looked at the tails. He looked at Primrose.

"Can I?" Vali whispered, reaching out a hand.

Primrose smiled. "Sure, pup."

Vali touched the fur. He buried his face in it. "Soft," he mumbled.

That was the signal.

Silas could no longer resist. The Panther Heir launched himself from the bleachers, landing silently in the pile of tails. He began kneading the fur, purring loud enough to be heard across the arena.

Arjun marched over, looking serious. He inspected the tails like a General inspecting a new weapon. "Defensive capabilities: High," Arjun noted. Then he grabbed a tail and wrapped it around himself like a scarf. "Comfort levels: Maximum."

Clover, Orion, and Jasper immediately piled on. Within seconds, Primrose was buried under children.

Ophelia’s voice echoed in her mind. See? I told you they were useful. Built-in blankets.

Primrose closed her eyes. She felt the warmth of the kids. She felt the steady presence of Caspian beside her. She felt the Warlords groaning as they stood up.

She wasn’t just Primrose anymore. She wasn’t just the Chef from Earth. She wasn’t just Ophelia the Echo.

She was all of them.

She opened her eyes. They flashed silver-blue.

"Okay," Primrose announced, standing up and lifting three kids (and a very comfortable Silas) with her tails effortlessly. "Training is over. Now... we have a wedding to plan."

Rajah groaned from the hay pile. "Can we fight the Void again instead? Flower arrangements are terrifying."

"No," Primrose declared. "You’re on napkin duty, Tiger. And don’t pick the orange ones."