My Step-Daughters Are The Villainesses

Kaliantha did not wait for Ulrich to recover from the sudden change.

She stepped forward with greater speed, drawing him into a sharper pattern than the musicians had been playing a moment before. Her skirts swept around her ankles as she turned beneath his arm, and the jeweled ornaments woven into her hair trembled along.

Ulrich adjusted without hesitation.

His hand remained at her waist. His fingers held hers securely as he followed the new rhythm she had set, matching her pace before any guest in the ballroom could notice that the Queen had seized the lead.

The musicians nearly lost the measure.

One of the violinists glanced toward the master of ceremonies in alarm, but the man only made a frantic motion with both hands. Follow them. Keep playing.

The melody rose to meet Kaliantha’s steps.

At the other side of the floor, Albert missed a turn.

Camellia caught herself before the mistake became obvious, though her eyes briefly moved toward her mother. Albert followed her gaze, then immediately corrected his footing and guided his sister into the next movement.

Neither of them had expected to be dancing behind Kaliantha and Ulrich.

Neither had expected their mother to take command of the pace so openly.

The nobles around the floor watched every step.

Kaliantha knew they were watching. She knew the story taking shape in their minds: a Queen humiliated by her drunken husband, now dancing fiercely with the Count whom Antonias had accused of assault. By tomorrow, no version of the evening would be kind to Antonias.

She did not care.

Not at the moment.

Her attention was on Ulrich.

He had followed her change in rhythm perfectly. There was no irritation in his expression, no sign that he resented being forced to keep up with her. He seemed almost too calm for a man who had just been warned by his Queen.

Kaliantha turned beneath his raised arm again, this time more quickly.

When she faced him once more, she did not look away.

"You have not explained yourself," she said.

"No."

The answer was so direct that her brows drew together.

"No?" She repeated.

"No," Ulrich said. "I have not."

Kaliantha moved closer during the next step, their joined hands lowering between them before he guided her outward again.

"And you do not intend to?"

"I intend to."

"Then do it."

Ulrich’s gaze stayed on hers.

His expression had not changed, but Kaliantha noticed a restraint in the way he held his shoulders. It was not fear. Ulrich did not fear conversations, accusations, or the displeasure of kings.

He was deciding how much he could say.

"I wished to speak with Your Majesty about the matters we have discussed during these past two years," Ulrich said at last.

Kaliantha did not accept the answer.

"There is an appropriate time for everything," she replied. "After this event. Tomorrow. Another day, if necessary." Her eyes remained fixed upon him as they moved through the steps. "But confidential matters are not ordinarily discussed during a dance, surrounded by the entire court. Certainly not by a man as cautious as you, Count Rubenhart."

Ulrich guided her through a turn before replying.

"Do you believe I am lying, Your Majesty?"

"Not about your intentions," Kaliantha said. "There is something else."

Her answer came without hesitation.

Ulrich said nothing.

Kaliantha was too intelligent to be diverted by an answer that only sounded reasonable. She had already noticed the way his attention strayed beyond her, how his gaze swept the ballroom whenever their steps turned him toward the musicians or the crowd. She had begun doing the same, though less obviously, staring the people nearest the floor and searching for whatever had caught his notice.

Ulrich could not allow that.

If she kept looking, she might draw attention to herself. If the masked musician truly had come for her, then even the smallest sign that Kaliantha suspected danger could force them to act.

"Or," Ulrich said, "perhaps I simply wished to dance with the Queen."

Kaliantha’s brows lifted slightly.

"And why would you wish for that?"

Their joined hands rose as he led her into the next turn.

The pace increased once more. Kaliantha moved with it immediately, and Ulrich followed without missing a step. The musicians adjusted after a brief hesitation, their melody growing quicker beneath the feet of the Queen and Count. Across the floor, Albert and Camellia followed the altered rhythm, though their attention remained divided between their own dance and the strange sight of their mother with Ulrich.

Ulrich looked down at Kaliantha.

"I thought Your Majesty deserved a proper dance."

Kaliantha stared at him.

The answer had been unexpected.

She searched his face, prepared to find amusement or some carefully arranged compliment meant to distract her from her questions. But Ulrich looked sincere. He meant exactly what he had said.

He believed she deserved a proper partner for her daughter’s celebration.

And he clearly did not consider Antonias suitable for that place.

"You mean to say that you would have made a better leading than the King," Kaliantha said.

The smallest change touched Ulrich’s expression.

It was not quite a smile, though it carried the same quiet confidence.

Kaliantha saw the arrogance in it.

Ulrich Van Rubenhart did not merely think himself better than Antonias. He thought the comparison itself was insulting. In his mind, there was no contest to be had between them.

"You may be honest, Lord Rubenhart," Kaliantha said. "No one here can hear us."

"Would honesty cost me my head?" Ulrich asked.

Kaliantha nearly smiled.

The expression reached her lips for only an instant before she composed herself again. Ulrich’s answer had been far too careful for a man who had likely struck her husband unconscious in a corridor less than an hour earlier.

"I refuse to believe you fear that after what you have done tonight," she replied.

"I have done nothing wrong," Ulrich said. "I asked the Queen for a dance."

"I believe my husband was correct about what happened."

Ulrich had no doubts she suspected him more. Her anger shown before was probably more because Antonia threw himself into trouble by accompanying Louise outside in front of everyone.

And as if it wasn’t enough, he came back even more drunk and started a problem at their daughter’s event, bringing each one of them shame and embarrassment.

She was obviously blaming the King because everything could have been avoided if he acted like the King he was, if not a proper father just for one night for Camellia.

Ulrich’s gaze did not leave hers.

"We have different versions of events."

"You are not even denying it." Kaliantha’s tone remained calm, though there was a sharper note beneath it now. "You are a cunning man, Count Rubenhart."

"Your Majesty asked for honesty."

"I did." Kaliantha’s fingers rested lightly within his larger hand as he brought her through the next step. "And I am satisfied with yours."

Ulrich held her gaze for a moment.

Then he asked, "Would my confession carry consequences?"

The question was quiet.

But it was a confession all the same.

Kaliantha could ruin him if she chose. Ulrich was one of the kingdom’s greatest lords, wealthy, powerful, and feared by men who understood the reach of Rubenhart influence. Yet he was still a Count, while Antonias was King. A public accusation against the crown could become treason with the right word from the throne.

Kaliantha had the power to take everything from him.

"No," she said.

Ulrich’s expression did not change, but his attention settled more fully upon her.

"You are a valuable asset to Skargardia," Kaliantha continued. "I am not foolish enough to destroy one of this kingdom’s strongest men over a drunken quarrel."

Her mismatched eyes hardened.

"But I would rather not hear of anything like this again."

"It will depend greatly upon the King’s conduct," Ulrich replied.

Kaliantha fell silent.

He had not apologized.

He had not promised obedience.

He had not even tried to soften the meaning of his answer.

If Antonias placed Louise or anyone close to him in danger again, Ulrich was telling her plainly that he would intervene again. Perhaps he would do worse next time.

Kaliantha looked up at him.

She had always known Ulrich was proud. He had been that way even as a boy standing beside his father at court, quiet and observant, with the same unreadable red eyes and a manner far too composed for his age. As Count Rubenhart, that pride had only become more difficult to challenge.

But was this pride?

Or was it conviction?

"I will have to defend my husband if it comes to that," Kaliantha said.

It was not an empty warning. Antonias had disgraced himself, but he was still King.

Ulrich understood the meaning beneath her words.

She would not protect him from every consequence simply because he had aided her and still was against the threats gathering around Skargardia. She would not allow him to act as he pleased merely because Antonias made himself difficult to defend; it was her duty as Queen to defend her husband, as much as she despised his conduct.

Unfortunately, Antonias represented her Kingdom as well after all.

"I will not burden Your Majesty," Ulrich replied calmly to that.