Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband-Chapter 27: Failed Sabotage.

At the humid parlor of the Thistle Manor.

It was hot. Uncomfortably hot. And it smelled faintly of swamp water and expensive, cloying perfume.

Uncle Barnaby and Aunt Petunia sat huddled on their worn-out settee, looking like two mice cornered by a particularly ugly cat.

Sitting across from them, taking up entirely too much space on a velvet armchair that groaned under his weight, was Marquis Grieve.

He was a Toad-kin. A very rich, very cruel Toad-kin. His skin was a mottled green-grey, glistening with a faint, oily sheen. His eyes were bulging and yellow, and his throat sac puffed out slightly every time he breathed. He wore a suit of purple velvet that was straining at the buttons, and his fingers were covered in gaudy gold rings.

"So," Grieve croaked, his voice wet and rasping. "Where is she?"

"She... she is in the capital, My Lord," Barnaby stammered, wiping sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. "A... a small sabbatical. To prepare for the wedding."

Grieve’s yellow eyes narrowed. "A sabbatical? She has been gone for weeks. I hear rumors, Barnaby. Rumors that your niece is running a... nursery? For commoners?"

He let out a short, barking laugh that sounded like mud splashing.

"Embarrassing. Truly embarrassing. A Thistle, scrubbing floors?"

"It is just a phase!" Petunia interjected quickly, her fox ears flattened in fear. "She is young! Foolish! She will be back before the Snow Ball, we promise!"

"She had better be," Grieve said, leaning forward. The smell of swamp water intensified. "Because I have paid for a bride. And I expect a bride."

His gaze shifted slowly to the corner of the room.

Cassia Thistle, Primrose’s cousin, was standing there, trying to look invisible. She had strawberry-blonde hair and two fluffy fox tails that were currently trembling.

"Of course," Grieve mused, licking his lips, his tongue darting out for a split second. "If the failed fox is unavailable... I suppose a successful one will do. Two tails are better than none, aren’t they?"

Cassia went pale. She looked at her parents with wide, terrified eyes.

Petunia gasped. "My Lord! Cassia is... she is... promised to another!" (She wasn’t).

"Contracts can be broken," Grieve wheezed, standing up. He waddled over to Cassia, reaching out a damp hand to stroke one of her tails. Cassia flinched violently. "Bring me Primrose. Or bring me the other one. I don’t care which. Just make sure there is a Thistle in my bed by winter."

He turned and waddled out of the room, leaving a trail of muddy footprints on the carpet.

As soon as the door closed, Cassia screamed.

"I won’t do it! I won’t marry him! He’s slimy! He eats flies! Mother, you can’t make me!"

"Quiet!" Petunia snapped, though her own hands were shaking.

"We have to get Primrose back," Lupin said from the doorway, his handsome face twisted in a scowl. "If she doesn’t come back, Cassia is doomed."

"We wrote to her!" Barnaby wailed. "She ignored it!"

"Then we go to her," Lupin said, his amber eyes cold. "We go to the capital. We find this... shop of hers."

"And then what?" Cassia cried. "Drag her back kicking and screaming?"

"No," Lupin smiled, a cruel, cunning expression that mirrored his father’s. "If we drag her back, she’ll just run again. We need to make her want to come back. Or rather... we need to make sure she has no choice but to come back."

Two Days Later, at the Capital...

The Thistle family carriage—rented, and slightly shabby—rolled into the Common District.

They had expected to find Primrose in a gutter. Or perhaps running a shack made of driftwood.

Instead, they found a fortress.

Lupin stared out the window. "That... is her shop?"

The building was immaculate. It had been freshly painted a cheerful yellow. The roof had been repaired. The windows were sparkling clean. And hanging above the door was a beautifully carved sign: The Little Whiskers Daycare, painted in gold leaf.

But it wasn’t just the building. It was the... clientele.

A carriage with the Crimson Fang crest was parked outside.

A courier with the Argentis Snake seal was delivering a crate of supplies.

And standing guard at the door was a massive Dire Wolf (one of Rurik’s personal guard), looking bored but deadly.

"She... she’s successful," Petunia whispered, horrified. "Look at those customers. That isn’t a commoner shop. That’s... high-end."

"She has money," Barnaby realized, his greed warring with his fear. "If she has money, she won’t come back for a dowry."

"She won’t come back at all," Cassia whispered, looking at the Dire Wolf. "She has protection. We can’t just grab her."

Lupin narrowed his eyes. He watched as Primrose stepped out of the shop, laughing, holding a basket of fresh bread. She looked happy. She looked... fed. She looked nothing like the scared, tail-less girl they had tormented for years.

She looked untouchable.

"We can’t force her," Lupin muttered. "And we can’t buy her."

"So what do we do?" Petunia asked. "If we go home empty-handed, Grieve takes Cassia!"

Lupin watched Primrose wave to a neighbor.

"If she’s successful," Lupin said slowly, "it’s because of her reputation. A Miracle Nanny, right? A Top Chef?"

"So?"

"So," Lupin leaned back, his smile turning jagged. "Reputations are fragile things. Especially for a failed fox handling noble children. If something were to... go wrong... at her daycare? If the children got sick? If the food was... tainted?"

"She would be ruined," Cassia breathed, understanding dawning on her face.

"She’d be chased out of the capital," Lupin nodded. "She’d have nowhere to go. No money. No protection."

"And she’d have to come crawling back home," Petunia finished, her eyes gleaming.

"To the safety of her family," Barnaby nodded sagely.

Lupin pulled a small, dark vial from his pocket. "It’s just a little Itch-Powder and Sour-Root extract. Nothing lethal. Just enough to cause... chaos. A few crying noble children, a few angry parents... and the Little Whiskers Daycare will be closed by sunset."

He looked at the cheerful yellow shop.

"Let’s go say hello to Cousin Primrose."

The bell jingled.

I looked up from the reading circle, expecting a courier or maybe a lost squirrel.

Instead, I saw my nightmare.

Aunt Petunia, Uncle Barnaby, Lupin, and Cassia stood in my entryway. They were dressed in their best city clothes (which were slightly frayed at the hems) and wearing smiles that looked like they had been painted on with grease.

"Primrose!" Aunt Petunia cried, rushing forward with open arms. "My darling niece! We were so worried!"

I stood up, putting myself between them and the cubs. The Protect the Chef protocol hadn’t been drilled for relatives, but the kids sensed the shift in my mood instantly.

Vali stopped chewing his toy. Arjun stopped vibrating. Jasper lowered his book. Silas faded back into the shadows. Clover hid behind my leg.

"Aunt Petunia," I said, my voice cool. "What are you doing here?"

"We came to visit!" Uncle Barnaby blustered, sweating profusely. "We... we received your letter! We wanted to see your... little shop!"

Liar. I didn’t send a letter. I ignored yours.

"Look at this place," Lupin sneered, walking past me. His amber eyes flicked over the expensive furniture, the crystal chandelier (which Cassian insisted on keeping), and the well-dressed children. "You’ve certainly... landed on your feet, Cousin."

"I have work to do," I said sharply. "If you want to talk, come back after hours."

"Oh, nonsense!" Cassia giggled, picking up a tray of fresh Star-Berry Muffins I had just set out. "We just want to help! Look, you’re busy with the... creatures. Why don’t we help serve snack time?"

My stomach dropped. They want to help? They’ve never lifted a finger in their lives.

"Put the tray down, Cassia," I ordered.

"Don’t be rude, Prim," Lupin said, stepping up beside his sister. He reached into his pocket. I saw a flash of glass—the vial.

He moved fast. He pretended to stumble, his hand hovering over the muffins.

"Whoops!"

A fine dusting of yellow powder drifted down onto the muffins.

It wasn’t sugar.

"Oh dear," Lupin smirked. "Clumsy me. Just a little... extra seasoning."

"Eat up, little ones!" Petunia urged, smiling at the cubs. "Fresh muffins!"

I opened my mouth to scream NO, but I didn’t need to.

Vali sniffed.

The Wolf cub’s nose twitched. His pink eyes went wide. Then, his lip curled back.

"POISON!" Vali roared.

He flipped the table.

CRASH.

Muffins, plates, and the Itch-Powder went flying.

"Vali!" I gasped.

"It smells like Sour-Root and Bugg-Legs!" Vali barked, pointing a clawed finger at Lupin. "He tried to poison the supply!"

"Poison?" Arjun yelled, jumping onto a chair. "CODE RED! PERIMETER BREACHED! PROTECT THE VIP!"

The Tiger cub grabbed a baguette (which I had baked extra crusty) and wielded it like a club.

"What is the meaning of this?" Uncle Barnaby sputtered, backing away as a seven-year-old tiger aimed a loaf of bread at his head. "These are... feral animals!"

"Analyzation complete," Jasper drawled from the corner. He had walked over to a smashed muffin and poked the yellow powder with a stick. "Sour-Root extract. Causes severe gastric distress. And Tickle-Dust. Causes hives. This is biological warfare."

He looked up at my family, his golden eyes cold and reptilian.

"You attempted to sabotage the digestion of the Imperial Heirs," Jasper stated calmly. "My brother, the Archduke, will sue you for damages. And attempted assassination."

Petunia went pale. "Archduke? Heirs?"

She looked at the children properly for the first time.

The silver-haired demon wolf. The gold-and-black tiger. The purple-haired snake.

"These aren’t... commoners," Lupin whispered, the color draining from his face.

"Get out," I said. My voice was shaking, not with fear, but with rage. "Get out of my shop. Now."

"You... you ungrateful brat!" Barnaby yelled, panicking. "We are your family! You are coming home to marry the Marquis, right now!"

He reached out to grab my arm.

SHING.

A dagger embedded itself in the doorframe, one inch from Barnaby’s nose.