Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband-Chapter 138: The Jungle of Golden Stripes

The Golden Zephyr descended through the cloud layer, and the world below exploded into color.

The North had been white and grey. The Jungle of Golden Stripes was a riot of emerald green, shocking pink, and deep, muddy brown. The trees were so tall they scraped the belly of the airship. Vines as thick as pythons draped between branches, dotted with flowers the size of dinner plates.

And the noise. It wasn’t just loud; it was a wall of sound. Insects buzzed, birds shrieked, and monkeys howled. It sounded like an orchestra warming up inside a sauna.

"Touchdown in five minutes!" Rajah bellowed from the helm. He was beaming, inhaling the thick, wet air like it was perfume. "Smell that? That is the scent of home! Rotting leaves and danger!"

"It smells like soup," Orion mumbled from inside his bubble. "Very hot, very damp vegetable soup."

Caspian stood next to him, looking miserable. His usually perfect hair was already starting to dampen at the temples.

"I am a creature of the water," Caspian noted, wiping sweat from his brow. "But this... this is disrespectful. The air is chewing on me."

Primrose stepped out onto the deck. She was wearing her lightest summer dress, but she immediately regretted existing.

The humidity hit her like a wet towel.

"Ugh," Primrose groaned. "It’s so sticky."

Then, she felt a strange sensation behind her. A poofing sensation.

"Uh oh," Arjun whispered, staring at her backside. "Primrose... your tails."

Primrose looked back.

Her two tails—the sleek Silver one and the fluffy White one—had reacted poorly to the tropical climate. They had expanded. Massively.

They were no longer elegant brushes. They were two giant, frizzy, static-charged cotton balls. They were so big they were practically lifting her skirt.

"NO!" Primrose shrieked, trying to smooth them down. "Go down! Be sleek! You look like angry dandelions!"

"It’s the humidity," Leonora laughed, walking by. Her own golden lion curls were wild and voluminous, but on her, it looked majestic. On Primrose’s tails, it looked like an explosion in a pillow factory.

"I can’t meet the Queen Mother looking like this!" Primrose wailed. "I look like a static electricity experiment gone wrong!"

"Don’t worry," Rajah grinned. "Mother respects volume. She says big hair means big secrets."

"That is not comforting!"

The airship docked at a massive wooden platform built high into the canopy of a Great Tree. Below them stretched the capital city of Suryapura.

It was breathtaking.

Buildings made of golden sandstone and teak wood were woven directly into the massive roots of the jungle trees. Canals of sparkling water ran through the streets instead of roads. Tigers—hundreds of them, in human and beast forms—lounged on sunny rooftops or swam in the canals.

Everything glittered. Gold wasn’t a currency here; it was decoration. It was on the roofs, on the clothes, even painted on the claws of the street cats.

"Welcome to Suryapura," Rajah announced, spreading his arms. "The City of the Sun. Where the gold is cheap and the shade is expensive."

They disembarked. The heat on the ground was even worse.

"I’m melting," Orion complained, his water bubble fogging up. "I’m going to be a puddle. Just scoop me up in a bucket and carry me."

"Stop whining," Leonora nudged him. "Look at the market. They sell lizards on a stick."

"That is biologically horrifying," Orion noted, though he did peek interestedly at the stall.

They barely had time to wipe the sweat from their faces before the crowd parted.

Marching toward them was a squadron of Tiger Guards.

They didn’t wear heavy armor like the Wolves. They wore silk wraps, gold jewelry, and carried curved scimitars. Their skin was tattooed with black stripes that seemed to move when they flexed.

The leader, a tall woman with a scar over her eye, bowed stiffly to Rajah.

"Lord Rajah," she said. Her voice was respectful, but cold. "You have returned."

"Captain Indira," Rajah nodded, his jovial smile slipping a little. "It is good to see you. How is the..."

"The Matriarch is waiting," Indira interrupted.

Rajah flinched. "Already? We just landed. I haven’t even showered. I smell like airship fumes."

"She saw the ship," Indira said, pointing at the massive golden monstrosity hovering above the city. "It is hard to miss. She requests your presence at the Sun Palace immediately. And she said to bring your... guests."

She looked at Primrose (and her frizzy tails), Caspian (who was sweating), and Orion (who was in a bubble). Her eyebrow twitched.

"All of them," Indira clarified.

"Even the fish?" Rajah asked weakly.

"Especially the fish," Indira said. "She wants to know why there is a bubble floating in her city."

The walk to the palace was a march of doom.

The Sun Palace wasn’t a building; it was a mountain of gold. It rose from the center of the jungle, a pyramid of terraces and waterfalls.

They were led into the Throne Room. It was open-air, with no walls, just massive pillars supporting a roof of woven vines. The floor was a mosaic of rubies and topazes.

And sitting on a throne made of living amber was Queen Mother Durga.

She was small. Much smaller than Rajah. She wore a simple orange sari, but she was draped in so much gold jewelry that she clinked when she breathed. Her hair was white, pulled back into a severe bun held together by diamond pins.

Her eyes were the same amber color as Primrose’s, but where Primrose’s were warm, Durga’s were like staring into the sun. Burning. Unblinking. Judgmental.

"Mother," Rajah said.

He walked forward and kneeled. He didn’t bow like a warrior; he pressed his forehead to the floor.

"You are late," Durga said. Her voice was soft, like silk sliding over a knife.

"The winds were against us," Rajah lied.

"The winds obey the bold," Durga countered. "You stopped for snacks. I can smell the spices on you."

She looked up. Her gaze swept over the group.

She looked at Leonora.

"Princess," Durga nodded slightly. "Your hair is messy. Did you fly here on a chicken?"

"A Griffin, actually," Leonora replied smoothly, not bowing. "And it’s good to see you too, Durga. You look... shiny."

Durga’s lip curled slightly. A tiny, almost invisible smile. She liked Leonora. Leonora had claws.

Then she looked at Caspian.

"The King of Tides," Durga mused. "You are dripping on my floor."

"My apologies," Caspian said stiffly. "It is my son’s bubble. It leaks."

Durga looked at Orion, who waved from inside his fishbowl. She stared at him for a long, uncomfortable minute.

"Fascinating," she murmured. "A mobile aquarium. Innovative."

Finally, she looked at Primrose.

She stared at the frizzy, exploded tails. She stared at the wrinkled dress. She stared at the snack bag.

"And this," Durga said, pointing a manicured finger. "This is the Nanny. The one who has turned my son into a babysitter."

"Hi," Primrose squeaked. She tried to curtsy, but her tails got in the way and she almost tripped. "I’m Primrose. Nice jungle you have here. Very... green."

"It is a jungle," Durga said dryly. "It is supposed to be green."

She stood up. She walked down the steps of the throne, the gold jewelry chiming softly. She circled Primrose like a predator inspecting a meal.

"My son writes about you," Durga said softly, leaning close to Primrose’s ear. "He says you have courage. He says you have magic."

She reached out and tugged a lock of Primrose’s frizzy tail.

"He did not mention the split ends," Durga noted.

"It’s the humidity!" Primrose defended herself. "I usually have excellent volume control!"

Durga hummed. She walked back to her throne and sat down.

"You are here because the Boss left a clue," Durga said, cutting straight to the chase. "I found a box in my garden this morning. It contained a single, dead rose."

Rajah gasped. "A dead rose? In the Eternal Garden? That is an omen of war!"

"It is an omen of bad gardening," Durga snapped. "But yes. It is a message. He is challenging us."

She looked at Primrose.

"If you want the clue," Durga said. "You must earn it. I do not give royal secrets to nannies with bad hair."

"What do I have to do?" Primrose asked, straightening her spine.

Durga smiled. It was terrifying.

"Tonight is the Feast of the Spice," Durga announced. "It is a tradition. We eat the Fire-Lotus Curry. It is hot enough to melt iron. If you can eat a bowl without passing out, crying, or begging for milk..."

She leaned forward.

"...then I will accept that you are strong enough to help my son. If you fail... you go home. And you take your bubble-boy with you."

Primrose gulped. She looked at Rajah. Rajah looked pale.

"Mother," Rajah whispered. "The Fire-Lotus? That killed a diplomat once. He spontaneously combusted." 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

"He was weak," Durga dismissed. "Well, Fox? Do you accept?"

Primrose looked at the scary old lady. She looked at her friends.

"I eat spicy food," Primrose said, thinking of the Kimchi Jjigae. "I can handle it."

Durga’s eyes glinted.

"Excellent," she purred. "Prepare the milk buckets. We will need them."