Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband-Chapter 182: The Iron Wyvern

The Royal Workshop smelled of oil, ozone, and impending bad decisions.

Jax stood in the center of the room, wiping his hands on a rag. He looked incredibly proud of himself. Beside him, covered by a tarp, was a large, lumpy shape.

"So," Primrose said, crossing her arms. "Grandma wants to go fast. And you said you have a... motorcycle?"

"Technically," Jax corrected, grinning, "it’s a Mana-Combustion Two-Wheeled Transport. But ’Motorcycle’ is shorter."

Ophelia was vibrating with excitement. She was wearing her new black leather trousers and the crimson wyvern jacket. She looked less like an ancient ancestor and more like a bandit queen.

"Show me," Ophelia commanded. "Does it bite?"

"Only if you touch the exhaust pipe," Jax warned.

He pulled the tarp off.

Primrose gasped.

It didn’t look like a modern motorcycle. It looked like a piece of art made of brass, steel, and crystal. The body was curved like a diving hawk. The wheels were thick, rimmed with shock-absorbing runes. The engine block glowed with a soft, dangerous blue light.

"I call her The Iron Wyvern," Jax introduced. "I built her from the scrap parts of the Abyssal Hunter. She runs on condensed wind-mana. Top speed: Fast enough to outrun a Griffin."

Ophelia walked around the machine. She ran a gloved hand over the leather seat. She tapped the handlebars.

"It has no legs," Ophelia observed. "How does it balance?"

"Physics," Jax said. "And a little bit of gyroscope magic. You just lean."

Ophelia straddled the bike. She gripped the handles. She looked natural, as if she had been born to ride a magically powered death-trap.

"How do I make it scream?" Ophelia asked.

"Twist the right handle," Jax instructed. "But be gentle, the torque is—"

Ophelia twisted the handle all the way back.

VROOOM.

The engine didn’t purr; it roared. A blast of blue wind shot out of the exhaust pipes, blowing a stack of blueprints off Jax’s desk. The bike surged forward, straining against the brake Jax had wisely engaged.

"I love it," Ophelia declared over the noise. "It’s loud. It’s obnoxious. It smells like danger."

She looked at Primrose.

"Get on, Little Fox. We’re going for a ride."

" absolutely not," Primrose backed away. "That thing is a deathtrap. It has two wheels! It’s powered by an explosion spell!"

"You fought a god," Ophelia rolled her eyes. "But you’re afraid of a little machinery?"

"I fought a god with a sword," Primrose argued. "I understand swords. I don’t understand... torque."

"I installed a passenger seat," Jax offered helpfully. "It has extra padding. And a ’Oh-No’ handle."

"Get on," Ophelia ordered. "Or I’m going alone, and I don’t know where the brakes are."

Defeated, Primrose climbed onto the back of the bike behind Ophelia. She wrapped her arms tightly around her grandmother’s waist.

"If we die," Primrose muttered into Ophelia’s leather jacket, "I’m going to be so mad."

"If we die, we die going fast," Ophelia laughed. "Jax! Open the doors!"

Luna cranked the lever. The massive workshop doors groaned open, revealing the long, paved road that led out of the Solaris Palace and toward the coastal cliffs.

"Hold on!" Ophelia yelled.

She released the brake.

WHOOSH.

They didn’t accelerate. They launched.

The world turned into a blur.

Primrose squeezed her eyes shut as the wind whipped her hair. The engine beneath them hummed with a deep, vibrating power.

"Open your eyes!" Ophelia screamed joyfully.

Primrose peeled one eye open.

They were tearing down the King’s Highway. The trees were green smears. A carriage full of nobles shrieked and swerved into a ditch as the Iron Wyvern blasted past them.

"Sorry!" Primrose yelled, though they were already a mile away.

Ophelia was laughing. It was a wild, free sound. She leaned into the curves, the bike tilting terrifyingly close to the ground, sparks flying from the footpegs.

"This is amazing!" Ophelia shouted. "In my day, if you wanted to go this fast, you had to jump off a cliff!"

"Please don’t jump off a cliff!" Primrose begged.

"No promises!"

They raced out of the city limits. The landscape opened up. The green fields of the Tiger Sector rolled by.

Ophelia pushed the bike harder. The blue mana-exhaust turned white hot.

For a moment, Primrose forgot the fear. She felt the vibration of the engine in her bones. She felt the wind stripping away the stress of the palace, the wedding planning, the politics.

It was just speed. Pure, unadulterated momentum.

She loosened her grip slightly. She looked at the back of Ophelia’s head. Her white hair was whipping in the wind, tangling with the silver hairpin Primrose had bought her.

Ophelia wasn’t fading now. She looked solid. She looked alive.

They stopped at Beacon Point, a high cliff overlooking the endless blue ocean.

Ophelia skidded the bike to a halt, kicking up a cloud of dust. She killed the engine.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Ophelia hopped off the bike. She took off her sunglasses and looked at the horizon. Her chest was heaving, her cheeks flushed with adrenaline.

"That," Ophelia breathed, "was better than sex."

Primrose climbed off, her legs wobbling. "I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had sex on a motorcycle."

"You should try it," Ophelia winked. "Maybe ask the Fish-Boy. He seems flexible."

Primrose turned bright red. "Grandma!"

Ophelia walked to the edge of the cliff. She looked down at the waves crashing against the rocks hundreds of feet below.

"The world is so big now," Ophelia said softly. "In the First Age, we only knew our own territories. The Tiger Jungle. The Wolf Tundra. We didn’t have roads like this. We didn’t have machines that could cross a kingdom in an hour."

She kicked a pebble over the edge.

"I missed it all, Prim. I missed the invention of the steam engine. I missed the peace treaties. I missed seeing my nieces and nephews grow up."

Primrose walked up beside her. She put a hand on Ophelia’s shoulder.

"You made it possible," Primrose said. "None of this exists without you."

"I know," Ophelia nodded. "But it’s hard. Being a monument is lonely. Being a person... being a person is messy. But it’s so much better."

She looked at her hand.

It flickered again.

This time, it didn’t solidify immediately. The transparency spread up to her wrist. Primrose could see the ocean through Ophelia’s arm.

Primrose grabbed her hand, as if she could hold her in this plane of existence by sheer force of will.

"Grandma," Primrose choked out.

"It’s okay," Ophelia said calmly. She looked at her fading hand with curiosity, not fear. "I used a lot of focus to ride that bike. Adrenaline burns mana fast."

"We should go back," Primrose said frantically. "Cassian can stabilize you—"

"No," Ophelia squeezed Primrose’s hand. Her grip was weak, like holding a ghost. "We finish the list. What’s next?"

"Grandma, please."

"Primrose," Ophelia turned to face her. Her eyes were serious. "I am not going to spend my last days in a hospital bed hooked up to crystals. I want to burn out. I want to be loud."

She pointed to the bike.

"I want to ride back. And then I want to eat that ’Pizza’ you told me about. And then I want to see the ocean."

She smiled—a brave, sad smile.

"Don’t make me be a statue again. Let me be a Fox."

Primrose swallowed the lump in her throat. She wiped her eyes.

"Okay," Primrose whispered. "We do it your way."

"Good girl," Ophelia grinned. "Now, get on. I think I can pop a wheelie."

They rode back to the palace as the sun began to set.

They were dirty. Their hair was a disaster. They smelled like engine grease and wind.

When they pulled into the courtyard, Rurik was waiting. He looked relieved to see them alive.

"You survived," Rurik grunted. "I had a bet with Rajah. I lost five gold."

"You bet against me?" Ophelia scoffed, hopping off the bike. She stumbled slightly, but caught herself on the handlebars. "Never bet against a Nine-Tails, Wolf."

Jax ran out of the workshop. He checked the bike over.

"Temperature gauges are red. Suspension is shot. Tires are bald," Jax listed, looking delighted. "You guys wrecked her. Nice."

"She rides well," Ophelia patted the hot metal tank. "But she needs a cup holder."

"Noted," Jax saluted.

Ophelia turned to Primrose. She leaned in close.

"That was fun," Ophelia whispered. "Thank you."

Primrose smiled, though her heart was aching. "Anytime."

Ophelia yawned, a massive, jaw-cracking yawn. The fading on her arm had receded slightly, but she looked exhausted.

"Right. Nap time. Being a biker is tiring work."

She started to walk toward the palace entrance, then stopped. She turned back to Jax.

"Hey, kid."

Jax looked up. "Yes, Lady Ophelia?"

"That machine," she pointed to the Iron Wyvern. "Build another one. Paint it blue."

"For who?" Jax asked.

"For the Wolf," Ophelia pointed at Rurik. "He looks jealous. And get him a leather jacket that fits. He looks like he’s wearing a child’s suit."

Rurik looked at the bike. He looked at the leather jacket. His tail gave a traitorous wag.

"I... I might be interested," Rurik mumbled.

Ophelia laughed. She linked arms with Primrose.

"Come on, Little Fox. Let’s go find some cheese and dough. I have a craving for Italian."

As they walked inside, Primrose held Ophelia’s arm tight. It felt solid for now. But she knew the clock was ticking louder than the engine ever could.

Item #3: Ride a Motorcycle. Check.

Next up: Pizza.