My Step-Daughters Are The Villainesses

Ulrich’s face remained blank.

He had heard enough of Louise’s absurd remarks to understand the subject of the conversation. He had no wish to know more. For his own sanity, he decided to treat the last several minutes as though they had not occurred.

"Ulrich." Louise rose gracefully from her chair, smiling as though he had arrived exactly when expected. "Do you want another dance? I would like to try the rhythm you used with Airam."

"No."

The answer was immediate.

Louise’s smile did not falter.

"Then why have you come?"

Ulrich looked past her toward the royal dais.

The musicians were beginning to gather their sheets of music. The false violinist remained beside the harpist, his black case still pressed near his foot.

The speeches would begin soon.

"I need to speak with you," Ulrich said.

Louise’s gaze sharpened.

The words themselves were ordinary, but his tone was not. Ulrich did not seek her out during a royal celebration merely to exchange pleasantries.

"Of course," she said.

Hermione looked between Ulrich and Louise.

"Are you leaving us again?"

"Yes," Ulrich replied.

"On our own again?" Hermione crossed her arms. "You were supposed to stay with us. Everyone here hates us."

"Big sister," Esther said softly, "Lord Ulrich is busy."

"Busy enough to hang around Astrid and speak with Lady Louise alone, apparently."

Ulrich glanced at Hermione.

Only a short while ago, she had been in a good mood after their dance. She had smiled more than usual. Now she stood with her arms folded, glaring at Louise as though the marquis’s daughter had personally offended her. She looked even more upset toward him.

Here he had thought maybe things had evolved for the best after their dance...

When Ulrich looked at her, Hermione turned her face away.

Louise noticed immediately and smiled teasingly.

"She is jealous that her handsome count is being taken away," she said brightly. "Do not worry, Ulrich. Let us speak."

Hermione’s head snapped toward her.

"I am not jealous!"

"You are being loud," Airam said, rubbing one ear.

Esther leaned gently against Hermione’s side.

"It is alright, big sister. I do not like Lord Ulrich leaving our side either."

"I said I am not jealous!"

Louise took hold of Ulrich’s arm before Hermione could say anything else. Ulrich did not object. He let Louise guide him away from the table, leaving Hermione behind with her mouth open in outrage.

Airam watched them go with narrowed eyes.

Hermione continued insisting she was not upset, but her voice had become less convincing with every repetition.

Ulrich and Louise moved through the edge of the crowd until the noise of the sisters’ argument faded behind them. They did not go far. Ulrich needed to remain close enough to watch the royal dais.

He stopped beside a marble pillar near the southern wall.

From there, he had a clear view of King Antonias. The King remained on the dais beside Kaliantha, listening to an elderly nobleman speak. Albert stood nearby, still surrounded by officers and courtiers.

The speeches would begin soon.

Louise turned toward Ulrich.

"Now," she said, "would you tell me what you need from me?"

Ulrich looked at the King.

"I need His Majesty unable to take part in the traditional dance."

Louise blinked.

"What does that mean?"

"Make him drunk," Ulrich said bluntly. "Get him away from the hall."

For several seconds, Louise only stared at him.

"You want me to get the King drunk," she repeated carefully, "and remove him from the ballroom?"

Ulrich nodded.

"And why exactly would I do that?"

He considered how much to tell her.

The truth would be easier. There was a possible assassin near the dais. The Queen might be attacked during the dance. Ulrich needed to be close enough to prevent it.

But Louise was clever. Too clever.

She would ask why he had not informed Kaliantha. She would ask how he had discovered the threat. She would notice that he was not trying to stop the dance, only change who participated in it. Louise would not be satisfied with half an answer, and Ulrich could not afford for her to begin searching for the rest.

He couldn’t manipulate her just like he did with Astrid.

He needed enough truth to make her cooperate.

"I want to take his place," Ulrich said.

Louise stared at him.

"Take his place?"

"I will dance with Her Majesty."

For a moment, she seemed to question whether she had heard him correctly.

"Let me understand this." Louise’s voice had become very calm. "You want me to get His Majesty drunk so he cannot attend the ceremonial dance. Then you want to take his place and dance with Queen Kaliantha."

"Yes."

Louise gave a short, disbelieving laugh.

"I cannot believe you."

Ulrich turned his gaze toward her.

"What can you not believe?"

She stared at him for a moment, her expression caught between amusement and small irritation.

"You like the Queen."

"Where did that conclusion come from?"

"From every word you have said." Louise said. "Why else would you want to dance with her? You are asking me to interfere with a royal ceremony. You are asking me to maneuver the King out of the room. You want a private moment with a married woman who happens to be the Queen."

Ulrich said nothing.

When Louise put it that way, the request sounded absurd.

Worse, it sounded personal.

No ordinary person would hear it and assume he had discovered a hidden assassin. They would assume what Louise had assumed: that Count Rubenhart desired the Queen and had decided, for reasons known only to himself, that stealing one dance from the King was worth a scandal.

He could correct her.

He could explain that the dance would place Kaliantha in danger. He could tell Louise about the masked violinist, the case, the altered guard assignments, and his suspicion that the demons intended to strike while the royal family left the dais.

But if she knew all of that, she would also know Ulrich had concealed it.

She would ask him why.

There was no answer he could safely give.

"I...admire her," he said.

Louise’s mouth opened slightly.

Then she laughed again, quieter this time.

"You admire her."

"Yes."

"So you love her?"

"I did not say that."

Louise stepped closer, lowering her voice so the nearby guests could not hear.

"You cannot have her. You know that, don’t you? She is married. She is the Queen. Even if King Antonias vanished tomorrow, the entire kingdom would have an opinion about who stood beside her afterward if she would ever want someone else."

"I know."

"And you still want the dance."

"Yes."

Louise watched him for another moment.

"Going as far as asking me to get the King himself drunk so you can dance with Queen Kaliantha." Louise gave a faint, incredulous laugh. "I admit, she stands above nearly every woman in this kingdom. Other kingdoms admire her. I cannot blame you for feeling something for her as well, Ulrich, but I did not expect this from you."

"Can you do it or not?" Ulrich asked.

The impatience in his voice was clear.

He did not have time for this.

The dance would begin soon.

Louise looked at him.

"Why me?"

"Because you are a marquis’s daughter. You can approach the King without looking suspicious. You can start a conversation, bring him wine, and keep his attention." Ulrich glanced toward the King, then stopped himself before the insult forming in his mind could leave his mouth.

King Antonias was vain, careless, and far too willing to look at women who were not his wife.

"He has an appreciation for beautiful women," Ulrich said instead. "He will not hesitate to follow you."

"Indeed."

Louise did not deny it.

She clasped both hands behind her back and lowered her eyes to the floor. For once, her playful expression had vanished completely.

Ulrich watched her.

"What are you thinking about?"

Louise did not answer.

"What are you thinking about for so long?" He asked again.

Her green eyes lifted to his.

"I do not know, Ulrich." Her voice was quiet. "How about you try to understand?"

Ulrich frowned.

"You are the smartest man I have ever met," Louise continued, "yet you can be unbelievably stupid in the matters that actually matter."

"Be clearer."

Louise laughed.

The sound was brief and hollow. It did not contain the usual teasing warmth she used whenever she tried to draw him into an argument.

"I made my feelings clear during our dance, did I not? I told you I wished to become your Countess."

"You did."

"And now you have come to me with a personal request." Louise’s mouth curved, but the smile did not reach her eyes. "You want me to use my family name, my access, and my charms to lure the King away so you can have a clear path to dance with the Queen you supposedly admire."

Ulrich did not answer.

The words sounded awful when spoken aloud.

Until that moment, he had considered only the usefulness of the request. Louise could reach Antonias. She had influence at court. She was clever, bold, and persuasive enough to lead the King away without causing a scene.

He had not considered what he was asking of her.

Or rather, he had considered it and dismissed the rest as irrelevant.

Louise watched the realization arrive on his face.

Her smile turned bitter.

"I never thought I would feel that way again," she said.

"What way?"

Ulrich’s question came out quicker than he intended. Not because he was angry, but because he genuinely did not understand what answer she expected.

Louise looked away toward the dais.

"I feel hurt," she said. "Your request hurt me, Ulrich."

The straightforward admission confused him more than anger would have.

Louise had always been loud about what she wanted. She teased him, pressed him, smiled through every rejection, and acted as though his refusal to answer her marriage proposal was merely another obstacle she would eventually overcome.

Ulrich had assumed it meant she could not be hurt.

That had been foolish.

"Would you have asked this of me," Louise continued, "if you had even the smallest affection for me?"

Ulrich remained silent.

He had argued with nobles, knights, and even demons. He could find the weakness in a person’s words before they had finished speaking. He could dismantle an accusation, turn a conversation, or force someone into admitting what they wished to hide.

But this was different.

There was no flaw in Louise’s question.

He had gone to the woman who had openly asked to become his wife and told her to charm another man so he could dance with a different woman.

No answer he offered would make it less insulting.

Louise nodded to herself.

"That is what I thought."

She turned away.

"Wait."

Louise stopped.

Ulrich did not know what he intended to say next. An apology would be appropriate, perhaps. Yet apologies were strange things. He could recognize when one was necessary, but he had never learned how to give one without making it sound like an order, a transaction, or an excuse.

Before he could decide, Louise spun back toward him.

"I will do it," she said.

Ulrich’s brows drew together.

"You will?"

"Yes." Her smile returned, though it was strained around the edges. "I will get the King out of your path. I will make certain he misses the dance. Then you can dance with the beautiful Queen you admire so much."

"Louise—"

"I said I will do it."

Her voice held no anger.

That made it worse.

She stepped closer, close enough that Ulrich could see the small tremor in her shoulders.

"I will do it for you, Ulrich."