Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband-Chapter 95: Debutante Drama

The Imperial Ballroom

The Imperial Ballroom was designed to make people feel small.

The ceilings were high enough to fly a dragon through. The chandeliers were the size of small houses, dripping with crystals that refracted the light into a blinding, prismatic haze. The floor was polished marble, slick enough to see your own terrified reflection in.

And the noise. It wasn’t loud. It was a low, buzzing hum—the sound of five hundred nobles whispering insults behind silk fans.

I stood at the entrance, clutching my satchel (which contained the Obsidian Case) like a lifeline.

Behind me, the Daycare Delegation was trying their best.

Luna smoothed her pink dress nervously, holding Clover’s hand.

Jax adjusted his emerald tie, looking around the room as if calculating the value of the silverware. Finn looked dapper in his top hat, but he was currently vibrating with the urge to run.

Orion was misting himself with a small spray bottle. Psst. Psst.

And King Caspian.

He stood beside me, tall and devastating in his blue velvet and cape. He held his head high, his expression impassive, but I could feel the heat radiating from him. The Star-Iron beneath his shirt was fighting a losing battle, and he was using every ounce of his willpower to remain standing.

"Stay close," I whispered to the group. "Don’t accept drinks from strangers. And Finn, do not pickpocket the Duke of Hyenas."

"He has a dangling watch!" Finn whispered back loudly. "It’s asking for it!"

We made it ten steps before we were intercepted.

A woman glided out of the crowd. She was beautiful in a terrifying way. She wore a dress of shimmering green scales that clung to her body like a second skin. Her hair was styled high, fanning out like a cobra’s hood. Her skin had a faint, greenish tint, and her eyes were vertical slits.

Duchess Venetia, Head of the House of Viper. The woman who had ordered the poisoned dress.

She stopped in front of us, flanked by three sneering nobles.

"Well, well," Venetia hissed, her forked tongue flickering slightly. "I heard the rumors, but I did not believe them. The Palace has opened its doors to... livestock."

She looked at Luna and Clover with open disgust.

"And you," Venetia turned her cold gaze to me. "The Tutor. The woman with no tail."

She laughed, a dry, rasping sound.

"Tell me, mongrel. Did your mother cut it off to save you the shame of being a runt? Or are you simply a human playing dress-up?"

I felt my anger flare. Not for me—I was used to toxic lobbies in video games—but for the cubs behind me who were shrinking away.

"I’m surprised you can see my tail, Duchess," I said, my voice sweet as poisoned honey. "Considering your head is so far up your own—"

"Primrose," Caspian warned gently, placing a hand on my arm.

Venetia’s eyes narrowed. She turned her attention to Caspian.

She looked at his blue velvet. She looked at the grey veins creeping up his neck (which she likely mistook for a tattoo or illness).

"And who is this?" Venetia sneered. "Your hired muscle? He looks sickly. Did you drag a beggar in from the docks and put him in velvet?"

She reached out with a long, clawed finger and flicked Caspian’s cape.

"Cheap fabric," she scoffed. "And he smells of salt and rot. Truly, the standards of the West Wing have collapsed."

Caspian didn’t move. He stared down at her with the ancient, terrifying calm of the ocean before a tsunami.

"Touch me again," Caspian said softly, "and you will lose that hand."

Venetia recoiled, offended. "You dare threaten a Duchess? Guards! Remove this trash!"

"I would not do that," a deep voice rumbled.

The ballroom doors slammed open.

The crowd parted like the Red Sea.

General Rajah marched in, his hand resting on the hilt of his saber. Beside him walked Archduke Cassian, Lord Rurik, and Duke Lucien.

They didn’t look at the crowd. They looked at Venetia.

And walking beside them, looking impossibly cute in tiny tuxedos, were Arjun, Vali, Jasper, and Silas.

"Dad!" Vali yelled, pointing at Venetia. "That’s the Snake Lady! She looks mean!"

"She does look mean," Rurik agreed, cracking his knuckles. "Shall I bite her?"

"No biting," I called out automatically.

The Warlords formed a protective semi-circle around us. The message was clear: Touch the Nanny, and you die.

Venetia looked at Cassian. Her confidence faltered.

"Archduke," she bowed stiffly. "I was merely... correcting the guests. This woman and her... associates... are insulting the dignity of the court."

Cassian adjusted his monocle. He looked at Venetia with the boredom of a god looking at an insect.

"Duchess Venetia," Cassian said smoothly. "You hold the seat of the Snake Clan because I declined the position. Do not mistake my lack of interest for a lack of authority."

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a hiss that only Snakes could truly appreciate.

"Insult my guests again, and I will dissolve your House before the first dance begins."

Venetia went pale. She scrambled back, bowing frantically. "Apologies, Archduke. I... I did not know."

"Now you know," Rajah growled. "Scram."

Venetia and her cronies fled into the crowd.

Before I could thank them, the trumpets blared.

"Presenting!" the herald shouted. "His Grace, Grand Duke Bastion! And his daughter... The Lady Ellia!"

The top of the grand staircase lit up.

Bastion stood there, looking handsome and proud in his black and gold uniform. But no one was looking at him.

They were looking at Ellia.

She was radiant. The golden dress—now lined with pure, soft silk—shimmered under the lights. She held her fan in one hand. Her hair was braided with gold ribbon. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

She didn’t look down. She looked out at the sea of faces—the people who had called her a monster, a curse, a feral child.

Then, she descended.

She walked with the grace of the Iron Swan and the power of a Lion. When she reached the bottom, the Daycare crew cheered.

"Yeah! Go Ellia!" Finn shouted, throwing his top hat in the air.

Ellia broke protocol. She ran over to us. She ignored the shocked nobles and hugged Clover.

"You came!" Ellia beamed.

"We have snacks and I brought a gift," Clover whispered, patting her pocket.

"Really?!" Ellia’s eyes sparkled.

The trumpets sounded again. This time, they shook the floor.

"All hail! The Sun of the Empire! Emperor Leonis! And Her Highness, Princess Leonora!"

Leonis descended the stairs. He radiated power. The entire room bowed.

He walked to the center of the room. He looked at Ellia. He nodded, a silent acknowledgment of her victory.

Then, he turned to me.

"Tutor Primrose," Leonis boomed. The room went deathly silent.

I curtsied (wobbly, but I did it). "Your Majesty."

"You have done what many said was impossible," Leonis declared. "You have restored the pride of the West Wing. The Empire thanks you."

He gestured to the Scribe.

"Bring the Treaty."

A table was brought out. The Treaty of the Tides—the document that would officially end the hostilities between the Surface and the Deep—was laid out.

"But a Treaty requires two signatures," Leonis said. He turned his burning golden gaze toward our group.

"We welcome our guest," Leonis announced, his voice ringing through the hall.

He looked directly at the man in the blue velvet suit.

"Step forward... King Caspian of the Sunless City, Lord of the Leviathans, and Ruler of the Deep."

The room gasped.

Duchess Venetia dropped her wine glass. Shatter.

"K-King?" she whispered, staring at the man she had just tried to throw out.

Caspian stepped forward. He moved with pain, but he hid it well. His cape swirled around him. He walked to the Emperor, not as a refugee, but as an equal.

"Emperor Leonis," Caspian said, his voice deep and steady.

"King Caspian," Leonis inclined his head. "I apologize for the delay. Shall we end this war?"

Caspian picked up the quill.

"Let us end it."

He signed his name.

The room erupted in polite applause. The Warlords nodded in approval. Primrose felt a wave of relief so strong her knees buckled.

It was done. The political battle was won.

But as Caspian put down the pen, he looked at me. His eyes were glassy. The grey veins on his neck throbbed against his collar.

We survived the Ball, his eyes said.

Now, I thought, gripping my satchel. We survive the night.