Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband-Chapter 91: The Sun King and The War Snap

Day Twenty of Tutoring.

The inspection did not begin with a knock. It began with the temperature rising ten degrees.

We were in the middle of a history lesson. Ellia was reciting the lineage of the Third Era, looking bored but competent. Bastion was reviewing a map of the borderlands. I was grading a math test (Ellia got a B+, mostly because she argued that if you include taxes).

Then, the doors groaned.

They didn’t just open; they were pushed open by a wave of heat and light.

Emperor Leonis strode in.

He was magnificent and terrifying. He wore white and gold robes that seemed to shimmer with actual sunlight. His mane was perfectly groomed, framing a face that was identical to Bastion’s, yet completely different. Where Bastion was a shadow, Leonis was a solar flare.

He didn’t come alone. He was flanked by the Royal Scribe and two elite Solar Guards (Golden Lions in full plate armor).

"Brother," Leonis boomed. His voice vibrated in my chest.

Bastion stood up immediately, bowing low. "Your Majesty."

Leonis ignored him. His burning golden eyes swept the room, judging the new curtains, the fixed books, and finally landing on the small figure standing by the table.

"And the Cub," Leonis said, walking closer. The air shimmered around him. "We hear rumors, Tutor. Rumors of fans snapping and spiders weeping. We hear you have tamed the wild thing."

He stopped in front of Ellia. He towered over her, radiating dominance.

"Well?" Leonis challenged, crossing his massive arms. "Show Us. Curtsy."

Ellia froze.

This wasn’t a seamstress she could threaten. This wasn’t a soup spoon she could outsmart. This was the Emperor. The man who had locked her away. The man who scared her father into submission.

Her hands trembled. Her eyes darted to the floor. The old instinct—to shrink, to hide, to let the Void whisper anger into her ear—flared up.

I saw Bastion tense, ready to step in, but I caught his eye. No. She has to do this.

I cleared my throat.

Snap.

I clicked my pen.

It was a small sound, but it cut through the tension.

Ellia’s head snapped up. She looked at me. I tapped my wrist.

Shields up.

Ellia took a breath. She reached for the fan hanging at her belt.

She didn’t open it fast. She opened it slowly, deliberately.

Swish.

She raised the fan to cover the lower half of her face. Above the lace rim, her golden eyes locked onto the Emperor’s.

She bent her knees. She lowered her head just enough to be respectful, but kept her eyes on him.

It was the Iron Swan Curtsy. Flawless. Fluid. Defiant.

"Your Majesty," Ellia said from behind the fan. Her voice didn’t shake. "Welcome to the West Wing."

Leonis raised an eyebrow. "Eloquent. But a parrot can be taught to mimic gestures. We are not here to see if you can dance, child. We are here to see if you can think."

He began to pace around her, circling like a predator.

"You wish to enter Society," Leonis said. "You wish to carry the name of the Lion. But the Lion does not just wear pretty dresses. The Lion rules."

He stopped and spun toward her.

"A hypothetical, Lady Ellia."

The room went silent. This was the real test.

"A village in the Southern Provences refuses to pay the Imperial Tax," Leonis stated, his voice hard. "They claim the harvest was poor due to drought. However, the law is absolute. If you make an exception for them, other villages will rebel. If you punish them, they starve."

Leonis leaned down, his face inches from hers.

"You are the Grand Duchess. What do you do?"

Bastion went pale. This was a trap. It was the classic Mercy vs. Law dilemma that stumped seasoned generals.

If she said Punish them, she was a tyrant (like the old Ellia).

If she said Forgive them, she was weak.

Ellia lowered her fan slowly. She looked at her uncle.

She thought about Little Whiskers Daycare.

She thought about Jax stealing the donuts. Why did he steal them? Because he was hungry? No, because he was greedy.

She thought about Arjun breaking the door. Why? Because he was trapped.

She thought about Madame Vane. Why did she poison the dress? Because she was threatened.

"Why?" Ellia asked.

Leonis blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Why is there a drought?" Ellia clarified.

Leonis frowned. "That is irrelevant. The question is—"

"It is entirely relevant," Ellia interrupted. Her voice gained strength. "If there is a drought, it means the River Mages aren’t doing their jobs. Or the infrastructure is broken."

She snapped her fan shut. Click. The Sword.

"If I punish them for starving, I am a bully," Ellia said firmly. "And if I forgive them without fixing the problem, I am an idiot."

She stepped forward, matching the Emperor’s glare.

"I would send the Imperial Army," Ellia declared.

Leonis smirked. "To crush them?"

"To dig irrigation canals," Ellia corrected. "I would use the soldiers to fix the water supply. The village pays the tax in labor, not coin. The Empire gets a new canal, the village gets water, and the rebellion is quelled because they are too busy working to complain."

She tapped the fan against her palm.

"That is efficiency. That is the duty of a Lion."

Silence stretched in the West Wing.

Bastion’s jaw was on the floor.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from cheering. That’s my girl. That’s the Daycare Logic.

Leonis stared at his niece. For a long, agonizing minute, his expression was unreadable. The heat in the room seemed to pulse.

Then—

"Hah."

It was a short, sharp bark of laughter.

"Irrigation," Leonis muttered, shaking his head. "She wants to use my elite shock troopers to dig ditches."

He looked at Bastion.

"She sounds like you," Leonis noted. "Before... before the grief."

He turned back to Ellia. The oppressive heat faded slightly. The sun glare dimmed.

"Your answer is... acceptable," Leonis conceded. "It is naive, perhaps. But it shows foresight."

He straightened his robes.

"Very well, Tutor. You have not wasted Our time. The Cub has claws."

He walked toward the door. The inspection was over.

But as he reached the threshold, Leonis stopped. He didn’t turn around.

"Brother," Leonis said.

"Yes, Majesty?" Bastion answered.

"The Ball is in seven days," Leonis said quietly. "Ensure she wears the Gold. It suits her."

Then, he swept out of the room, taking the sun with him.

The doors closed.

Bastion let out a breath that sounded like a deflating balloon. He collapsed into his chair.

"Irrigation," Bastion laughed weakly. "By the Stars, Ellia. You argued logistics with the Sun King."

Ellia stood there, clutching her fan. Her legs finally gave out, and she sat down hard on the rug.

"Was I okay?" she whispered. "My knees were shaking."

"You were perfect," I said, walking over and high-fiving her (improper etiquette be damned). "You didn’t just survive, Ellia. You won."

Ellia looked at her hand, stinging from the high-five. A grin spread across her face.

"I used the War Snap," she giggled. "Did you see his face? He looked confused!"

"He looked impressed," Bastion corrected, coming over to hug her. "I am so proud of you."

I watched them, feeling a swell of pride. We had passed the Mid-Term Exam.

But as the adrenaline faded, a new worry crept in.

Seven days until the Ball. Seven days until the Treaty.

And seven days until I had to uphold my promise to the Warlords.

I touched the satchel where the Obsidian Map Case was hidden.

Ophelia, I thought. We’re coming for you. Just hold on.

"Primrose?" Ellia asked, pulling me from my thoughts. "Can we go to the Daycare now? I need to tell Arjun I beat the Emperor."

I smiled. "Yes. Let’s go."