Although she had tried, when she looked back, Olega couldn’t pinpoint the moment this had gone so terribly wrong.
Who would trust a fox?
The arrangement had never been about trust
. The fox was an opportunist, and Olega had needed a way to prove to her only daughter that Fellfang was not so kind and loving as it seemed. Olega knew Fellfang better than the Jarl himself; she had spent more of her life as a part of it than the exiled royal had. Moth was too sweet and too kind to see the darkness behind the eyes of the Jarl she thought she trusted, the Jarl whose blood was cursed and always had been. Olega had needed a way to make her see.
This plan… it had never been about Fellfang. It had always been about Moth.
But, typical… the little fox had gotten carried away. Buoyed by her newfound taste of power, because as luck would have it, the Jarl had been all too eager to welcome her and all the lies she fed him. Lies that, i