Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I'm Stuck as Their Baby!-Chapter 193: Sabotage and Schemes

The next day dawned with a peculiar sense of expectation, like the world itself was holding its breath and daring someone to exhale first. By breakfast, the academy's walls hummed with magical unrest. Lesson plans reappeared as manifestos on "Fair Distribution of Cake." Every portrait in the central corridor now wore a protest banner, some spelled out in illusory flames: "DOWN WITH UNFAIR CURFEWS!" and "NO TAXATION WITHOUT SNACKS!"

Even the stone statue of Headmistress Weller (a woman whose iron bun was rumored to be a magical artifact in its own right) was animated, banging her bronze gavel and declaring, "Order! Order! All students in favor of skipping class, say 'Aye'!"

The 'Aye' was thunderous.

My group regrouped beneath the excuse of "gardening club" after a morning of dodging bewitched flyers and a brief, bewildering confrontation with a portrait of my great-aunt, who now insisted on being called Comrade Petronilla and had taken to reciting revolutionary limericks.

Riven reported in, still brushing petals from his hair. "It's worse than we thought. Phoenix Study Group isn't just pamphlets anymore they've started a school-wide 'skip class for change' day. Even the kitchen staff are threatening to withhold dessert until the monarchy issues an apology."

Mara looked scandalized. "They can't do that. That's against the Geneva Cake Convention."

Elira, scanning the enchanted scroll she'd swiped from a rally organizer, frowned. "Look at this. Lesson plans for Charms were replaced with instructions for making protest signs. Potions class turned into a workshop on concocting smoke bombs non-lethal, but impressive for getting teachers to run."

Velka was quiet, her fingers absently twining a strand of her hair. I felt her gaze flick to me, then away. Since the kiss, something delicate and strange simmered between us an invisible string tying us together and tugging at the most inconvenient moments.

The system's voice slid into my thoughts like a snake in velvet.[If chaos were an art, you'd be running a museum. You do realize this is only the beginning? The academy's unrest is a rehearsal. The revolution outside will be far less…cute.]

I ignored it, focusing on the map Mara had spread over the garden bench. "Tonight's the rally. Old Observatory. We'll slip in, see who's running the show, and figure out how to stop this before it turns into open war."

Mara cracked her knuckles. "You want a distraction, or do you want the subtle approach?"

Elira snorted. "Your last distraction involved three chickens and the choir teacher still can't sing above middle C."

"I was improvising!" Mara protested.

Riven looked earnest. "Maybe this time we try blending in? If anyone asks, I'm an exchange student from the Republic of Ferns."

Velka, quietly dry, murmured, "You're about as inconspicuous as a fireball in a teapot, Riven."

A beat passed. I caught Velka's eyes again, and this time, neither of us looked away. The memory of our kiss shimmered between us confusing and hopeful, all the more powerful for being forbidden. I'd meant to talk to her, to ask if it meant anything, or if it meant everything. But there was always another crisis.

[You might want to clarify your relationship status before someone else does,] the system observed. [Also: try not to spark a magical duel over your love life. It's tacky.]

I sighed and focused. "Let's keep things simple. Mara, you run interference if things go sideways. Elira, you're backup. Riven…just don't get arrested. Velka, you're with me."

Velka nodded, something softening at the edges of her expression.

That night, we approached the observatory with all the subtlety of a slightly tipsy ghost. Mara led the way, Elira at her side, whispering strategy. Riven lurked behind a hedge, disguised as what I'm fairly certain was meant to be a rhododendron. He was promptly scolded by a real rhododendron for "blocking the moon."

The inside of the observatory was transformed banners strung from the telescope, candles floating in the air, tables stacked with snacks, pamphlets, and a suspiciously large cauldron labeled "Liberty Punch: Non-Explosive, Promise!"

At the center stood the leader. She was a fourth-year named Lysbeth sharp-eyed, with an intensity that could have sliced glass. Once, she'd been loyal to the crown; now she wore a sash reading "Voice of the People." Her speech was rousing, clever, almost heartbreakingly sincere.

"My family lost everything because of royal decrees," Lysbeth declared, voice echoing off the domed ceiling. "We are not here to break things for the sake of it. We are here to demand change. If the princess herself wishes to listen let her listen. But we will not be silent any longer."

For a moment, the room seemed to tip on the edge of real magic not the showy kind, but the sort that changes hearts.

I felt Velka tense beside me. "You see?" she whispered. "This isn't just troublemaking."

Before I could answer, Mara who'd apparently mistaken the "punch bowl" for a distraction device accidentally knocked it over. An arc of Liberty Punch splashed across the room, dousing students and, with uncanny accuracy, the protest banners. There was a beat of stunned silence. Then, as if on cue, enchanted pies began to fly.

Food fight.

Mara howled, "IN THE NAME OF FREEDOM!" and dove behind a table, using a tray as a shield. Elira was hit squarely with a jelly tart and, in the confusion, was mistaken for Lysbeth by a group of overzealous first-years.

"Comrade Leader!" they shouted, hoisting her onto a crate. "A speech! A speech!"

Elira, her dignity leaking raspberry jam, stared at me in abject horror. I shrugged, mouthing, "Just improvise."

She cleared her throat, panic etched in every syllable. "Uh…People of the Academy! It is our…duty to, uh, pursue justice and…um…pie for all!"The crowd cheered, some already pelting her with celebratory pastries.

I grabbed Velka's hand, pulling her aside behind a pillar. We caught our breath, the clamor of flying cakes echoing through the room. There, in the midst of chaos, the real argument found us.

"We have to stop this before someone gets hurt," I whispered.

Velka's eyes narrowed, fierce and vulnerable at once. "Stop it how? Use magic? Force? You can't just order people to be happy, Elyzara. You know that, right?"

I felt my temper flicker, hot and scared. "So what, we do nothing? Let them tear the school apart?"

"Maybe you should listen," she shot back. "Maybe they're right to be angry. Maybe your parents are wrong."

I bristled. "You sound just like them."

She took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. "Maybe I do. Because they have a point. Sometimes power does more harm than good. I'm not saying you're the enemy, but don't be so sure you're the hero."

The words hit harder than any pie. For a second, the noise of the room faded, replaced by my own heartbeat.

[Find another way,] the system urged, for once almost gentle. [Every choice here echoes. Violence solves nothing. Not for long.]

I closed my eyes, drew a long breath, and found my center the place not of royalty, not of orders, but of something simpler. I stood up, hands raised, and called out not with a spell, but with my voice:

"Stop! Please everyone, just stop!"

Remarkably, the room listened. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the sight of their princess, jam-stained and earnest, standing unarmed and open in the chaos.

I looked at Lysbeth, then at the crowd. "I hear you. I know you're angry. I know some of you blame my family, and maybe you're right. But violence won't fix what's broken. If you want change real change let's talk. Let's find out what needs fixing, and fix it together."

For a moment, silence hung in the air, thick as honey. Then Lysbeth nodded one sharp, trembling motion. "If you're serious, Princess, we'll meet. But not as rulers and subjects. As equals."

I nodded, meaning it. "As equals."

A tentative cheer rippled through the crowd. Food stopped flying. Someone passed Elira a towel; Mara emerged from behind the table, victorious but sticky. Riven reappeared, trailing rhododendron petals and pride.

Velka slipped beside me, her hand searching for mine. "That was…brave."

I turned to her, heart pounding. "You were right, you know. I can't lead unless I listen. I want to be better. For everyone. For you."

Her eyes softened, and she squeezed my hand. "So…what are we, exactly? After…everything?"