Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband

Chapter 223: The Anti-Poultry Feast and the Pack’s Promise

Cooking for the Warlords was an exercise in extreme logistics. Cooking for the Warlords, six growing beast-cubs, and a newly rescued Duck-kin mother required the kind of tactical planning usually reserved for military campaigns.

I stood in the center of the massive kitchen, my apron dusted with flour, my nine silver fox tails swishing back and forth in deep concentration. The hearth fires were roaring, heating the heavy iron pans and roasting spits.

"Okay, let’s review the menu," I muttered, wiping my forehead with the back of my hand. I stared at the chalkboard hanging near the pantry. "We have the garlic-herb crusted beef roast for Rurik. The pan-seared lemon-butter salmon for Caspian. A massive tureen of wild mushroom and potato soup. Roasted root vegetables, fresh cheese, three loaves of crusty bread..."

"And absolutely zero poultry," a smooth, deep voice chuckled from the doorway.

I turned around to see Caspian leaning gracefully against the doorframe. The Merman King was dressed for dinner in a flowing, deep sapphire tunic that made his teal eyes completely mesmerizing.

"It is not funny, Caspian!" I groaned, pointing a wooden spoon at him. "I almost made my signature honey-roasted pheasant! Can you imagine the diplomatic disaster of serving roasted bird to a woman with wings? I had to panic-throw the entire bird out the window to the wild foxes this morning. I am paranoid. Are there eggs in the bread? I can’t remember if I used eggs!"

Caspian let out a rich, rumbling laugh. He walked across the kitchen, easily dodging a scurrying kitchen-golem, and wrapped his strong arms around my waist from behind. He rested his chin on the top of my head.

"You used milk and butter, Little Rose. No eggs," Caspian soothed, pressing a kiss to my hair. "You are overthinking this. Juni would likely not care, but your dedication to avoiding a faux pas is endearing. The dinner smells incredible."

"I just want tonight to be perfect," I sighed, leaning back into his solid warmth. "She has spent two years running, hiding, and fighting for her life. I want her to sit at our table tonight and realize she never has to run again."

Caspian’s arms tightened around me in a comforting squeeze. "She will know. It is impossible to sit at your table and not feel entirely loved."

Before the moment could get any sweeter, a loud crash echoed from the formal dining room down the hall, followed by Rurik’s booming voice.

"No! The snake does not get to dictate the seating chart! The wolf sits at the head of the table because I am the loudest!"

"Volume does not equate to authority, you walking rug," Cassian’s voice hissed back smoothly. "And you cannot sit there. The structural draft from the window will cool your beef roast at an accelerated rate, and I refuse to listen to you complain about lukewarm meat."

I stepped out of Caspian’s arms with a fond eye roll. "Duty calls. Grab the salmon, Your Majesty. Let’s go feed the horde."

The formal dining room was a beautiful space, featuring a massive, dark mahogany table that could easily seat twenty people. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, golden glow over the fine porcelain plates and silver cutlery that Cassian had painstakingly arranged.

When Caspian and I walked in carrying the heavy silver platters of food, the chaos was already in full swing.

The cubs were swarming the room. Orion and Jasper were debating the structural stability of the chandelier. Vali was proudly showing Clover a shiny new copper coin he had made from their morning "feather trade" in the gardens. Arjun was standing perfectly straight behind his chair, waiting for permission to sit.

And in the center of it all, Cassian was attempting to aggressively sanitize a wooden highchair with a glowing green spell, while Rurik tried to sneak a piece of cheese off the appetizer board.

"Hands off the cheese, Wolf of the North," I scolded lightly, setting the massive beef roast down in the center of the table.

Rurik snatched his hand back, though he gave me a completely unrepentant, toothy grin. "The Sovereign provides! It smells like victory in here!"

"It smells like garlic," Cassian corrected, pushing his glasses up his nose. He finished waving his hands over the highchair. "There. The infant seating apparatus is now completely devoid of coastal bacteria."

Before Rurik could start another argument, the heavy oak doors of the dining room slowly opened.

The room went completely quiet.

Juni stepped into the dining room, and my breath actually hitched. She wasn’t wearing her torn, dirt-smudged survival clothes anymore. I had lent her a flowing, pale sage-green dress made of soft, breathable silk. We had altered the back perfectly to allow her magnificent, silver-tipped wings to rest comfortably. Her wild golden hair was brushed and partially pinned up, framing her beautiful face. She looked like a goddess of the forest.

And right beside her, holding Pip securely in his arms, was Lucien.

The Panther Assassin had upgraded from his dark daytime suit to an elegant, midnight-black formal jacket. He wasn’t hovering behind her like a guard tonight; he was walking right by her side. He looked at her the way a starving man looks at a feast—with complete, absolute awe.

Pip was wearing a tiny, perfectly tailored white shirt and soft gray trousers. He had mercifully agreed to leave the yellow frog raincoat in his bedroom, though he was fiercely clutching a bright yellow stuffed duck toy that Silas had given him.

"Wow," Vali whispered loudly into the silence. "The sky-lady cleans up really good."

Juni flushed a deep, pretty pink, her wings fluttering slightly in a mixture of nervousness and amusement. "Thank you, Vali."

"Come in, come in!" I smiled warmly, walking over and pulling out the chair right next to the sanitized highchair. "Juni, sit right here. Lucien, you’re on the other side of Pip."

Lucien gently lowered the chubby toddler into the highchair. Pip immediately slammed his stuffed duck onto the mahogany table. "Food!"

"Yes, little bird, food is arriving," Lucien murmured, taking his seat. He immediately picked up a soft linen napkin and tucked it into Pip’s shirt collar to protect his tiny suit.

Juni sat down gracefully, looking at the massive, groaning table of food. Her golden eyes widened as she took in the giant beef roast, the perfectly flaked salmon, the steaming bowls of buttery soup, and the mountains of fresh bread.

"Primrose," Juni breathed, completely overwhelmed. "This... this is a feast for a king. You didn’t have to do all this."

"Nonsense," Caspian smiled, taking his seat at the head of the table and pouring a glass of sparkling cider for her. "We celebrate our victories. And bringing you home safely is the greatest victory we have had all season."

"Let the feast begin!" Rurik cheered, immediately grabbing a carving knife and slicing off a piece of beef the size of a brick.

Dinner with the Warlord pack was never a quiet, dignified affair. It was loud, boisterous, and filled with flying food and overlapping conversations.

Down at the cub’s end of the table, Vali was trying to convince Clover to eat more potatoes so she would grow big and strong for their trading business, while Jasper aggressively lectured Vali on the proper caloric intake of a rabbit-kin. Silas sat quietly, cutting his meat into tiny, perfectly square pieces, occasionally handing a piece of soft bread to Pip.

Through it all, I watched Juni.

At first, she was tense. Her shoulders were stiff, and she kept her wings pulled tight against her back, jumping slightly every time Rurik let out a booming laugh or slammed his fist on the table to emphasize a hunting story. She ate quickly, as if she expected the food to be snatched away.

But as the meal went on, something shifted.

Cassian, completely unprompted, reached over and used a pair of silver tongs to place a perfectly portioned serving of roasted root vegetables onto her plate. "High vitamin content," the Serpent Warlord stated without looking at her. "Good for feather regeneration."

Juni blinked, a small smile touching her lips. "Thank you, Cassian."

Then, she watched Lucien. The terrifying assassin hadn’t touched his own food yet. Instead, he was meticulously cutting a piece of soft salmon into microscopic, bite-sized flakes for Pip. When Pip missed his mouth and dropped a piece of fish onto his pants, Lucien didn’t get angry. He just sighed softly, cleaned it up with a napkin, and handed the toddler another piece.

Juni’s wings slowly began to relax. The tension melted out of her shoulders. She took a sip of her cider, leaning back in her chair, and let out a soft, genuine laugh as Vali tried to balance a spoon on his nose and failed miserably.

She wasn’t on the run anymore. She was just at dinner.

As I brought out the dessert—a massive, bubbling mixed berry tart with a thick vanilla crust—Caspian stood up.

The Merman King picked up his crystal glass. Instantly, the table quieted down. Even Rurik stopped chewing, and the cubs sat up straight.

Caspian looked down the length of the table, his teal eyes resting warmly on Juni.

"In the beast-kin Empire, survival is often a solitary endeavor," Caspian began, his deep voice carrying a quiet, undeniable authority. "We are taught to guard our territories, trust only our own strength, and view outsiders as threats. For many years, the men at this table lived by that rule. We were isolated. We were monsters."

Lucien looked down at his glass, his jaw tight. Cassian adjusted his glasses, and Rurik crossed his massive arms.

"But," Caspian continued, turning his gaze toward me, a look of profound love softening his regal features, "our Sovereign taught us a different way. She taught us that a pack is not defined by blood, or species, or territory. A pack is defined by the people you choose to protect. It is defined by the people you invite to your table."

Caspian turned back to Juni. The Duck-kin mother was completely still, her golden eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears.

"Juni," Caspian said softly. "You have fought a war alone for far too long. You protected your son with a fierceness that humbles every warrior in this room. But your war is over. You do not have to fight alone anymore."

Rurik stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He raised his heavy mug of ale. "The wolf pack stands with the silver-wing!" Rurik bellowed proudly. "Any enemy who looks at you must go through the North first!"

Cassian gracefully raised his glass of water. "The East offers its sanctuary. My medical ward is permanently open to you and your flock."

Then, Lucien stood up.

He didn’t raise a glass. He simply turned to face her. In the warm glow of the chandelier, the deadly, untouchable Lord of Shadows looked completely stripped of his armor.

"The shadows belong to you, Juni," Lucien whispered, his voice rough and heavy with an oath that bound his very soul. "Wherever you walk, I will be the shield at your back. Always."

Juni pressed a trembling hand over her mouth. A tear slipped down her cheek, completely ruining her composure. She looked at these massive, terrifying men who controlled the fate of the continent, standing up to pledge their absolute protection to a tired, widowed mother and her duck-toddler.

"Thank you," Juni choked out, her voice breaking. She looked at Lucien, then down the table at me. "Thank you all. I... I don’t know what to say."

"You don’t have to say anything," I smiled, raising my own glass. "Just welcome home, Juni."

"Welcome home!" the cubs cheered in unison, raising their cups of juice.

"Honk!" Pip shrieked happily, banging his stuffed duck on the table.

Juni let out a watery, beautiful laugh. She wiped her eyes, picked up her glass of cider, and clinked it against Lucien’s glass.

The rest of the night descended back into comfortable, wonderful madness. We ate the berry tart until we were completely stuffed. Vali fell asleep under the table. Cassian lectured Rurik about sugar intake.

And as I stood in the kitchen later that night, washing the last of the dishes, I looked out the window.

Out in the moonlit courtyard, sitting quietly on the stone bench, was Juni. She wasn’t alone. Lucien was sitting right beside her, their shoulders brushing. He was listening to her talk, his completely undivided attention focused on the golden-haired woman who had stolen his heart.

I smiled, drying my hands on my apron. The Warlord pack was definitely full, but looking at them, I knew we had made exactly the right amount of room.