Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I'm Stuck as Their Baby!-Chapter 178: Foxes in the Henhouse

Aria's POV

There are days you wake up feeling like a sorceress on top of her game. A day when your spells are sharp, your hair behaves, and even the sentient vines in the greenhouse lean aside to let you pass. Then there are days when you realize the world is a stage, and you, unfortunately, are both actor and saboteur in a play you've written for everyone but yourself.

Today was… both.

I sat in the sunlit east corridor, watching Elyzara pace restlessly among the marble pillars, her braid flicking with every agitated turn. She moved like a spark looking for kindling, and all I had to do was keep her distracted. Easy. After all, no one suspected the chipper, chaos-loving girl was anything but a friend. It's a role I'd practiced my entire life.

But that was the trick, wasn't it? Be the distraction, and you could get away with anything. Even treason.

Somewhere deep in the castle, my clone played her part with Velka's face, but not her heart. I almost pitied the thing almost. The real Velka was stashed safely where she couldn't interfere, her mind clouded with enough spell-venom to keep her memories soft and her magic softer. Not dead. Just… temporarily sidelined.

For now.

I swung my legs from the balustrade and hummed a tune no one else would recognize, keeping an ear out for any loose threads. That was the hardest part of betrayal—not getting caught in your own.

Down below, students raced to class, uniforms billowing, a tapestry of youth and promise and, if you looked hard enough, mortal fragility. My gaze drifted to Mara and Elira, posted like twin sentinels at the door. Stubborn, loyal, entirely too competent. I smiled and waved. Mara scowled, Elira nodded. As always.

Perfect.

The day's agenda was simple: keep the royals happy, the guards clueless, and Elyzara too busy doubting herself to ever look in the right direction. Sometimes I thought the universe had an odd sense of humor, giving me this role. Traitor, friend, chaos-mage, fox among dragons.

If I succeeded, the empire would fall to pieces. If I failed, well… it wouldn't be for lack of trying.

The first complication arrived at breakfast, with Velka's clone seated beside Elyzara at the long, enchanted table. The clone was good uncannily good, actually. She poured syrup on her toast without hesitation. She even managed a smirk that was, by all appearances, pure Velka. If you'd never seen the real thing, you'd be fooled.

I had, and I wasn't.

Elyzara, for her part, wore that distracted, watchful look I'd come to recognize. She smelled a lie, but didn't know where the body was buried. Not yet. I had to give her credit. Most princesses would be too busy counting suitors to notice their best frenemy acting like a lovesick pixie. But not Elyzara.

Riven plopped down across from us, his hair a mess, crumbs clinging to his cheek. "You two planning world domination, or is this just a regular Thursday?" he said.

Velka-Not-Velka grinned. "World domination can wait until after lunch. The menu is more important."

Elyzara's eyes flickered to me. Suspicion or hope? Hard to say. ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com

I chewed my toast and grinned back, the perfect picture of untroubled mischief. "I nominate myself for Minister of Chaos."

"Already taken," said Riven, raising a hand.

"Fine. You can be my assistant," I said sweetly.

His protest drowned beneath the noise of breakfast. For a moment, we were all just students—ordinary, awkward, hungry. That's the problem with secrets: they can almost make you forget the knife in your pocket.

But not quite.

After breakfast, I slipped away to check the clone's progress. My secret chamber lay beneath the old music hall, a perfect maze of broken tiles, forgotten sheet music, and dust. No one would look for me here; the acoustics alone could kill a lesser mage.

The mirror glowed as I whispered the command word, showing me the clone's vision. She trailed Elyzara through the halls, possessive as a shadow, her manner a touch too soft, her smile a touch too wide. Good. The more Elyzara doubted, the longer she'd stay distracted.

The real Velka, by contrast, was silent behind three layers of containment wards, watched by a spirit familiar with far too many teeth. Every now and then, I checked the binding spells, tightening them just so. I told myself it wasn't personal. You can't be sentimental if you want to survive a coup.

But sometimes, when I saw her face furious, betrayed, heartbreakingly young I wondered if maybe it was personal after all. If not for her, then for me. Who would I have become if I'd chosen loyalty instead of ambition? Someone dead, probably. Or worse someone irrelevant.

There was no going back now.

Midday found me in the library, "helping" Riven search for his lost homework. He lost it every week, usually by setting it on fire. It was an easy way to look busy while keeping an eye on Elyzara and the clone as they drifted through the stacks, arm-in-arm like a pair of mismatched socks.

"Think she's got a cold?" Riven whispered, watching Velka-Not-Velka nuzzle Elyzara's shoulder.

"Maybe she finally snapped and decided to become a poet," I offered. "Stranger things have happened."

He snorted. "If she starts writing sonnets, I'm moving to the dungeons."

We exchanged a look, both pretending not to notice how weirdly quiet Velka had become. Even Smaug, lurking nearby in cat-sized form, seemed to be watching with narrowed, reptilian suspicion.

Every so often, the clone would glance at me, as if seeking approval, or perhaps instructions. I gave her neither. A good puppet didn't need a master's hand once the strings were taut enough.

Afternoon: chaos class. The perfect opportunity for subtle sabotage.

I leaned against the back wall, arms folded, eyes half-closed. Mara led a combat drill on the courtyard lawn, shouting orders while Elyzara and her "date" sparred against dummies.

The clone moved well—too well, perhaps. She anticipated Elyzara's moves, echoing her style with a perfection the real Velka would have found utterly insulting. I almost laughed. It was like watching a puppet-master forget the puppet had once been alive.

When Mara's whistle blew, the clone lunged forward and before anyone could react hugged Elyzara fiercely, planting a kiss on her forehead.

The silence was absolute.

Then Riven shouted, "That's cheating!"

Aria (that's me, still playing both sides) clapped, beaming. "Five points for creativity!"

Mara scowled. Elira looked concerned. And Elyzara? She looked… lost.

For a traitor, it was a beautiful tableau: suspicion, confusion, and a tiny seed of chaos, perfectly sown.

Dusk painted the sky gold and bruised blue. I wandered the halls alone, letting the mask slip. No one was watching. No one ever did. It was the curse and blessing of being Aria: invisible when you wanted to be, unforgettable when you didn't.

Down in the dungeons, the real Velka would wake soon. I'd need to check the wards, maybe slip her a little food bread and cold water, nothing fancy. She was strong, but she'd break soon. They all did.

And Elyzara? She would keep searching. Keep hoping. Keep loving.

I almost felt sorry for her.

But then I remembered why I was doing this. Why I'd made myself a villain in someone else's story. The world needed change. Empires needed to fall. Blood needed to be spilled.

And sometimes, the best foxes are the ones who look most like sheep.

Midnight again. The castle slept.

I stood at the window, watching the clouds crawl across the moon, and wondered, not for the first time, whether I could ever go back. Whether I'd even want to.

And whether, when the end finally came, anyone would remember that Aria had ever been more than a traitor.

But for now, I smiled, turned on my heel, and vanished into the shadows.

The game was far from over.

And in this house of secrets, it was always the fox who set the rules.