Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I'm Stuck as Their Baby!-Chapter 156: Thorns and Thistles

Verania studied her daughter, the ice in her gaze thawing slightly. "Very well. But remember, trust is earned, not given."​

The room exhaled collectively, the atmosphere lightening.​

Riven leaned toward Velka. "Welcome to the family drama. It's like a play, but with more daggers."​

Velka managed a small smile. "I'll keep that in mind."

The moment Velka turned away, her crimson-lined cloak trailing behind her like the final note in a dramatic sonata, I felt it—that distinct and terrible shift in energy. The one that came before I was about to be ambushed… but by my parents, which was significantly worse.

Verania's hand clamped gently, ominously, around my shoulder.

"Daughter," she said, her voice a melodious thread dipped in steel. "Walk with us."

I blinked, turning slowly. "Is this the walk where I get a sword or the one where I get interrogated?"

Sylvithra, standing beside her with her usual serene smile, gave a soft chuckle. "Why not both?"

Perfect.

We moved through the polished obsidian corridors of the palace, the click of my boots echoing alongside my mothers' elegant, too-quiet steps. We passed portraits of dead ancestors who all looked vaguely judgmental, and statues that followed you with their eyes if you turned too quickly. Classic Velmorian aesthetic.

Finally, Verania pushed open the heavy doors of a side chamber the kind reserved for "private royal discussions," which really meant "no witnesses, no interruptions, and probably emotional trauma."

The room was tall and narrow, lit only by floating silver flames that clung to the high stone walls like sleepy fireflies. A single velvet divan sat in the center, flanked by two ancient thrones my mothers' favorites for dramatic lectures.

I had barely sat before Verania turned toward me, her arms crossed like a general surveying a battlefield.

"Explain the vampire," she said simply.

I blinked. "Velka?"

"She has a name," Sylvithra added gently.

Verania gave her wife a sideways glance that could have sliced glass. "Yes. I know. I just prefer to address threats by category."

"Mother!" I groaned, dragging a hand over my face.

"I saw the way she looked at you," Verania continued, circling the divan like a panther with an overdeveloped sense of maternal doom. "I saw the way you looked at her. Like she was a shiny new dagger and you were debating whether to use it or keep it hidden."

I opened my mouth.

"Don't lie," she cut in. "You inherited my taste in weapons and in people. You're obvious."

Sylvithra gracefully perched on the edge of one of the thrones, folding her hands in her lap. "To be fair, darling, your version of 'obvious' involves flaying enemies with your eyes. Elyzara barely blinked."

"That was the blinking of emotional compromise," Verania muttered darkly.

I stood, hands raised. "Okay, before this turns into a dramatic intervention, let me clarify: Velka is my classmate. We work together sometimes. She's weird. She's mean. She smells like lilac and moonlight, and her face is ugh fine. She also insults me a lot, which is clearly a sign of a healthy enemy dynamic."

Verania raised one dark brow. "Do all your enemies hold your hand during forbidden excursions?"

I turned slowly toward her. "How do you even know about that?!"

Verania pointed at Sylvithra. "She interrogated the guards."

Sylvithra gave a modest shrug. "They gossip. Also, your little brother draws very detailed depictions of everything he overhears. It's practically a public record at this point."

I groaned and sank back onto the divan like a tragic heroine. "This is the worst timeline."

Verania finally stopped pacing and folded her arms again. "I'm going to be very clear, Elyzara. I don't care if she's funny, tragic, or smells like romantic trauma. If she hurts you—emotionally, magically, or otherwise I will peel her like an onion and roast her soul in a decorative brazier."

"Mother!"

"I'm not done."

"She's not done," Sylvithra echoed helpfully.

"I am watching her," Verania continued, voice cold and slow. "And I am watching you. You are powerful. You are dangerous. And more importantly, you are mine. If she thinks she can tangle her fate with yours without consequences…"

She trailed off, the threat hanging in the air like a glittering knife.

"…She'll regret it?" I offered.

"She'll regret being born on this continent," Verania replied sweetly.

Riven chose that exact moment to lean into the open door.

"Did someone say flaying?"

Sylvithra didn't even look at him. "We're talking about your classmate."

"Ah, the broody vampire girl." He grinned. "Ten out of ten, by the way. Excellent taste, your highness. I totally ship it."

"You are not helping," I snapped.

"Not trying to. Just enjoying the show."

Verania's eye twitched.

"You know," Riven mused aloud, "I love that the first time Velka gets mildly affectionate, Queen Murderblade threatens to salt her ashes. But me? I've been here for years and you still look at me like I'm a plague rat in court shoes."

"Because you are," Verania replied with perfect calm.

Sylvithra laughed behind her hand.

"Wow. That's fair." Riven blinked. "I just needed to hear it out loud."

He gave me a little wave and disappeared again, presumably to go tell Aria everything and get a running bet started.

When the door closed, I turned to both of my mothers, trying to summon the poise of someone who hadn't just had their romantic prospects publicly incinerated.

"Are we done?" I asked.

"Almost," Verania said, crossing the floor to place a hand on my shoulder. Her voice softened. "Elyzara. My love. I know what it's like to be powerful and young and still feel uncertain. You want connection. You want understanding. That's human. But the world is cruel to girls like us. They see your light and think it's a fire they can control."

My throat tightened.

"I don't want to see that light extinguished," she said, brushing a lock of silver hair from my face. "Not because of some clever-eyed stranger with secrets in her blood."

"She's not a threat," I whispered.

"She's not yet," Verania corrected. "But promise me you'll be careful."

I nodded, just once.

Sylvithra rose from her throne and joined us, brushing her fingers against my cheek. "You may be heir to a kingdom, but your heart is still ours to protect."

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"I know," I said. "Even when you're deeply overprotective and slightly terrifying."

Verania smirked. "It's a family trait."

We all laughed then, just a little, and for a moment the tension fell away.

******

Sylvithra stepped lightly into the corridor, her silk robes whispering against the polished stone floor, her thoughts already drifting like mist beyond the threshold of the room she had just left.

Velka stood near the end of the hall, trying much too hard to appear like she wasn't waiting.

The vampire girl's posture was immaculate hands behind her back, chin slightly raised, gaze fixed on an ornamental vase that had been in the palace since the Year of Screaming Pineapples. Most people wouldn't know that year had involved an actual pineapple uprising.

Sylvithra, of course, remembered it vividly.

She approached quietly, like a breeze that made no noise and yet still chilled the bones.

"You know," Sylvithra said, voice serene, "when one tries not to eavesdrop, one usually hides around a corner, not directly in front of the door."

Velka flinched almost imperceptibly. "I wasn't—"

"—Waiting? Loitering? Mentally preparing a sarcastic monologue? All noble pastimes," Sylvithra finished kindly, smiling as she clasped her hands before her. "But I imagine you're here for more than ornamental appreciation."

Velka hesitated, then exhaled slowly. "I just… wanted to know if she was okay."

A pause. Then a softer confession: "And if you'll let me stay."

Sylvithra's gaze softened. "Letting you stay isn't the issue, Velka. What concerns us is your heart."

Velka frowned. "My heart?"

"Yes," Sylvithra said, her smile turning amused. "That thing currently screaming every time Elyzara looks at you."

Velka turned a truly impressive shade of pale.

"I see." Sylvithra nodded serenely. "So you do feel it."

"I don't know what I feel," Velka muttered, staring at her boots as if they'd betrayed her.

Sylvithra leaned in slightly, voice low and warm. "Then do us both a favor. Figure it out. Carefully. Before Verania figures it out for you."

Velka nodded silently.

Sylvithra patted her shoulder once, like one might a cat that could bite at any moment, and turned away, already humming to herself.

She liked Velka.

But liking someone had never once stopped her from unleashing political ruin when it became necessary.

And she sincerely hoped it wouldn't be.