Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband

Chapter 210: The Waterfowl’s Secret

Over the next three weeks, Lord Fluffington became the undisputed tyrant of the cliffside manor.

I had raised five chaotic beast-cubs, managed four overbearing Warlords, and run a high-end kitchen, but none of that prepared me for the sheer entitlement of a tiny yellow duck.

Cassian, who initially complained about avian hygiene, had entirely caved. He used his magic to weave a specialized, self-cleaning silk pillow for the duck to sleep on, claiming it was "to prevent cross-contamination," but I caught him hand-feeding the bird premium organic seeds when he thought no one was looking.

Rurik had taken it upon himself to train the "war-bird." This mostly consisted of the massive Wolf Warlord sitting on the patio, howling at the sky, and waiting for the tiny duckling to aggressively *honk* back.

But Lucien was the worst. The Empire’s most lethal Panther Assassin refused to go anywhere without the duck. If Lucien was reading in the library, Lord Fluffington was asleep on his boot. If Lucien was in the shadows, a tiny yellow puffball could be seen floating in the darkness right beside him.

"He is incredibly spoiled," I noted, standing on the patio with a tray of freshly baked honey-biscuits and a small bowl of mashed peas.

Caspian leaned against the stone railing beside me, a lazy, amused smile on his handsome face. The afternoon sun caught the iridescent silver strands of his hair. "He is the apex predator of this household, Little Rose. We are merely his subjects."

Down in the courtyard, the daily Duck Guard was on duty.

Silas was sitting cross-legged near the custom-built shallow pool, carefully making a shadow-butterfly dance across the water. Lord Fluffington paddled after it, snapping his tiny orange beak.

Lucien was standing perfectly still under the shade of the oak tree, his violet eyes scanning the perimeter for hawks, gulls, or any other threat to his adopted avian son.

"Alright, snack time," I called out, walking down the stone steps.

The cubs immediately abandoned their games. Orion and Jasper dropped their architectural blueprints, and Arjun and Vali stopped wrestling in the grass. They swarmed the tray of honey-biscuits, polite but ravenous.

I walked over to the edge of the shallow pool and set the bowl of peas down for the duckling.

Lord Fluffington paddled to the edge, waddled out of the water, and shook his fuzzy yellow tail. He let out a happy little *quack* and waddled over to the bowl. But instead of eating the peas, he suddenly stopped.

He looked at the bowl. He looked at the plate of honey-biscuits the boys were eating.

Then, he let out a loud, demanding *HONK*.

"I’m sorry, Fluffington," I laughed gently, crouching down. "Biscuits are for cubs. Ducks eat peas. You can’t process baked goods properly."

The duckling narrowed his tiny black eyes at me. He flapped his wings, puffed out his chest, and began to glow.

"Uh," I blinked, taking a step back. "Caspian? The duck is glowing."

"Get back!" Rurik roared, suddenly dropping his biscuit and sprinting across the courtyard. "It is a magical anomaly! The war-bird is about to explode!"

"Do not be ridiculous, wolves do not understand basic mana fluctuations!" Cassian shouted, though he immediately threw up a shimmering, transparent wind-shield around Jasper and Orion.

Lucien was there in a fraction of a second. The Panther Warlord melted out of the shadows and materialized directly in front of Silas, shielding his little brother with his body. Lucien’s hands were clenched into fists, dark shadow-magic swirling around his arms as he prepared to fight whatever magical threat was attacking his duck.

The bright, golden glow surrounding the tiny yellow bird grew blindingly bright. The air hummed with raw, unshaped magic.

And then, with a soft *poof*, the light vanished.

There was no explosion. There was no monster.

Sitting on the edge of the patio, completely naked and looking incredibly confused, was a chubby, rosy-cheeked toddler. He looked to be about two years old. He had a mop of soft, bright yellow hair, and sticking out of his back were two small, downy yellow duck wings.

The entire courtyard went dead silent.

The Warlords froze. The cubs dropped their biscuits. I stared, my jaw practically hitting the stone patio.

The little toddler blinked his large, dark eyes. He looked down at his pudgy little hands. He wiggled his toes against the warm stone. Then, he looked up at the bowl of mashed peas, scrunched his little nose in absolute disgust, and pointed a chubby finger directly at the plate of baked goods.

"Biscuit!" the toddler demanded, his voice a high-pitched, incredibly cute chirp.

Cassian was the first to break the silence. He slowly lowered his magical wind-shield, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a trembling, gloved finger.

"By the ancestors," Cassian whispered in pure shock. "It was not a waterfowl. It was a Duck-kin."

"A what?!" Rurik yelled, his wolf ears pinning flat against his head. "I have been howling at a toddler?! I tried to feed a baby raw fish!"

"I told you raw fish lacked the proper nutritional balance for a growing digestive system!" Cassian hissed, though he looked just as completely unmoored as Rurik. "But statistically... the odds of finding an unshifted avian beast-cub wandering the coastal cliffs are astronomical!"

I finally snapped out of my shock. My maternal instincts completely overrode my confusion.

"He’s naked!" I gasped, quickly untying my apron. I rushed forward, wrapping the thick linen apron securely around the little boy’s waist like a makeshift diaper, making sure not to pin his soft yellow wings.

I picked him up. He was surprisingly heavy, completely solid, and smelled faintly of pond water and sunshine. He immediately wrapped his chubby little arms around my neck, resting his head on my shoulder.

"Hi there, sweetheart," I murmured, rubbing his back. "You gave us quite a scare."

"Biscuit?" he asked again, looking at me with wide, hopeful eyes.

"Yes, you can absolutely have a biscuit," I laughed, feeling a wave of pure, chaotic affection wash over me.

I turned around to face the Warlords.

Lucien was still standing exactly where he had materialized. The terrifying Panther Assassin looked like he had been struck by lightning. He was staring at the yellow-haired toddler in my arms, his violet eyes wide, completely entirely speechless.

Silas peeked out from behind Lucien’s leg. The little panther-cub looked at the toddler, then looked up at his older brother.

"Lucien," Silas whispered, tugging on the dark suit pants. "Lord Fluffington is a boy."

Lucien slowly, mechanically nodded. "The... the tactical waterfowl has assumed a bipedal form."

"He’s a baby, Lucien," I corrected gently, walking over to him. I held out the chubby little Duck-kin. "Do you want to hold him?"

Lucien looked at the toddler as if I were handing him a live grenade. But he slowly reached out his arms.

I transferred the heavy little boy into Lucien’s grasp. The Panther Warlord held him awkwardly at first, incredibly stiff, terrified of dropping him. But the toddler just giggled, reaching up with a chubby hand to grab a handful of Lucien’s immaculate dark hair.

"Papa!" the Duck-kin chirped happily, nuzzling his face into Lucien’s expensive suit collar.

Lucien stopped breathing.

The deadliest man in the Empire, the Lord of Shadows, entirely melted. His stiff posture collapsed. He pulled the chubby little boy securely against his chest, wrapping his strong arms around the toddler with a fierce, possessive grip. A low, rumbling purr began to vibrate in Lucien’s chest.

"I am Papa," Lucien whispered, his voice thick with an emotion I had never heard from him before. He looked up at me, his violet eyes blazing with absolute determination. "He is mine. I will end anyone who says otherwise."

"No one is arguing with you, shadow-cat," Rurik laughed, walking over and placing a heavy hand on Lucien’s shoulder. The Wolf Warlord looked down at the duck-boy with a massive grin. "The pack grows! We have a new pup! He will be a great warrior of the skies!"

"He is two, Rurik. He is not going to war," Cassian sighed, rubbing his temples. But even the Serpent Warlord couldn’t hide the soft smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "I will need to completely overhaul his dietary chart. And purchase appropriate clothing. An apron is not an acceptable long-term garment."

Caspian walked up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my head. He chuckled, the deep sound vibrating against my back.

"Well," Caspian murmured, watching the cubs swarm around Lucien to get a better look at their new brother. "I suppose we need to add another bed to the cub barracks. What do you think, architect?"

Orion was already pulling out his charcoal pencil, his teal eyes bright with excitement. "I can build a nest! A really cool elevated bunk with a ladder, just in case he forgets how to fly!"

"I will help calculate the structural safety netting," Jasper agreed, opening his notebook.

Vali bounded up to Lucien, sniffing the toddler’s little yellow wings. "If he is a boy now, does that mean he can play tag? Because ducks are really slow."

"He will learn," Silas promised quietly, reaching up to gently pat the toddler’s foot. "I will teach him how to hide in the shadows."

I leaned back against Caspian, completely overwhelmed but incredibly happy.

We had woken up this morning thinking we were raising a spoiled pet duck. Now, we had officially adopted a Duck-kin toddler. The PTA was going to have an absolute meltdown when the Warlords showed up to the next meeting with a baby bird-boy.

"What are we going to name him?" I asked, looking up at Lucien. "We can’t keep calling him Lord Fluffington."

Lucien looked down at the sleeping toddler in his arms. He traced the boy’s soft yellow hair with a gloved finger, his expression entirely unguarded and full of love.

"Pip," Lucien said softly. "His name is Pip."

"Pip," I repeated with a smile. It was perfect.

"Alright, pack!" Rurik bellowed, clapping his hands. "We must celebrate the arrival of the newest Warlord-cub! Primrose, we require a feast! Bring out the meat-bread!"

"And the biscuits," I laughed, stepping out of Caspian’s arms to head toward the kitchen. "I think little Pip has earned his sweet treats."

As I walked inside to start baking, I could hear the Warlords bickering over who got to hold the baby next, while the older cubs argued over how to properly design a bird-nest bed.

It was loud. It was chaotic. And it was exactly how our family was meant to be.