My Step-Daughters Are The Villainesses

Ulrich stopped retreating.

He stood with the stolen dagger raised before him, its dark blade angled toward the five masked demons closing through the barrier’s darkness. Blood ran from the cut beneath his eye, traced the line of his cheek, and gathered at his jaw.

A drop fell.

It landed warmly against Kaliantha’s pale cheek.

She felt it immediately.

Kaliantha lifted her gaze.

She stood pressed against Ulrich’s chest, held close by the arm secured around her back. His body shielded her from the demons ahead, and at this distance she could feel the controlled rise of his breathing beneath the layers of his waistcoat. The air moved faintly against her forehead whenever he exhaled.

He had not let go of her once.

Not when the first blades came.

Not when one of them cut his cheek.

Not when he had to use one hand to throw a demon onto the marble while keeping his other arm around her.

"Let me go," Kaliantha said.

Ulrich did not look down.

The glowing bands along the demons’ masks shifted through the darkness. One stood with a broken wrist, his injured arm hanging uselessly at his side, while the other hand reached beneath his coat for another dagger. The four remaining assassins had spread into a wider circle. They had learned not to attack him one at a time.

They would strike together now.

"They want me dead," Kaliantha continued. "You will die as well if you remain here."

"No."

The answer came immediately.

Kaliantha’s fingers caught more tightly in the fabric at his waist.

"No?" She repeated.

Ulrich kept his gaze on the demons.

The dagger in his hand remained steady. The blood on his face did not seem to trouble him. His entire posture had changed now that he had decided to fight. He stood differently from the Count who had led her through a dance only minutes earlier. His shoulders had lowered. His body had settled into a balance made for movement rather than ceremony.

"No," he said again.

Kaliantha looked at the side of his face.

"You are a foolish man, Ulrich van Rubenhart."

He did not reply.

"If you intend this as courage, it will avail you nothing," she said. "What use is bravery when you lie dead at the last?"

"It is not bravery."

The demons began to move.

One stepped closer from the left. Another shifted behind them, his glowing mask appearing between the pillars of shadow. Ulrich adjusted his footing at once, turning Kaliantha with him so she remained in front of his body, protected by the arm around her back and the position of his shoulder.

"It is not bravery," he repeated. "I am protecting my Queen. I am protecting the future of this kingdom. Any man should do the same."

Kaliantha’s eyes narrowed.

"You are not that kind of man."

Ulrich glanced down at her.

For the first time since the demons had surrounded them, their eyes met fully.

The red of his eyes seemed darker in the barrier’s dimness. Kaliantha’s own mismatched eyes held the weak white light cast by the assassins’ masks: one green, one blue, both fixed upon him with the same careful intelligence she had brought to every conversation between them.

"I do not believe you care for Skargardia," she said.

Ulrich did not deny it.

He did not say that she was wrong. He did not pretend to possess the devotion she held for every village, every soldier, every child born beneath Skargardian banners. His concern had always begun with the Rubenhart County. With his land. With the people who depended on him.

But Kaliantha was part of the future he had decided to preserve.

And he could not make himself step away.

"I will not let you die," Ulrich said.

Kaliantha fell silent.

She looked up at him for several seconds, searching his face.

"You do not understand," she said at last.

Her voice lowered.

"I will not die," she said, touching her necklace.

Ulrich’s eyes moved briefly to it.

Kaliantha followed his glance.

"The heirloom," she said. "It is an artifact. It protects my life. If they strike me, it will respond."

Ulrich just looked silently.

"Leave me now," Kaliantha continued. "You have done enough. Do not throw your life away when I have a means to survive this."

Ulrich’s expression did not soften.

"I will not leave your life in the hands of an artifact."

Something in Kaliantha’s gaze shifted at his answer.

She had expected him to accept the answer. She had expected him to recognize the practical choice. The Phoenix Heart could protect her. He could escape the barrier, or at least put distance between himself and the demons before they overwhelmed him.

Instead, Ulrich tightened his arm around her back.

The decision had already been made.

"Why?" Kaliantha asked.

The word was quiet.

It carried more than the question of the artifact or the demons. Why was he here? Why had he put himself between her and danger? Why did a man who claimed no great devotion to Skargardia refuse every chance to save himself?

Ulrich’s eyes returned to the assassins.

"I already told you," he said. "I will not let you die."

The demon with the broken wrist drew a second dagger with his uninjured hand.

Black mana began to gather around the five figures.

It crawled over their coats in faint, oily strands, then thickened around their arms and shoulders. The white bands on their masks grew brighter, cutting through the darkness in hard, curved lines. Their bodies seemed to blur at the edges as demonic mana settled over them, lending weight to their movements and force to their weapons.

The air changed.

A bitter smell spread through the barrier, like burnt resin and wet ash.

Ulrich felt the danger immediately.

It seemed they were pretty angry and wouldn’t hold back anymore.

"Do you have anything else to say?" Ulrich asked.

Kaliantha looked at the demons, then back at him.

The nearest assassin lowered into a fighting stance. The others followed. Their blades caught the pale light of their masks and the dull red gleam that still clung to Ulrich’s blood.

Kaliantha’s hand tightened in his waistcoat.

"No," she said. "Not if you are still willing to risk your life."

"Good."

Ulrich shifted his stance.

"Keep hold of me," he said. "This will become brutal."

Kaliantha nodded.

Her fingers slid beneath the open edge of his crimson coat and closed around the waistcoat underneath, gripping the fabric at his side.

Ulrich felt her grip.

Then the demons moved.

All at once.

The masked demon directly ahead lunged first, his dagger strengthened by a thin coating of black mana. Two others followed from either side, their movements faster than before, their feet skimming over the marble with unnatural speed. The remaining pair circled wide, cutting off the space behind Ulrich and Kaliantha.

Ulrich moved with them.

He pulled Kaliantha tight against his chest and stepped backward just as the first blade came down. The dagger cut through the air in front of her face. Ulrich turned his body, his shoulder taking the place where her head had been, and the assassin’s strike cut through it, drawing a long line of fresh blood.

A second blade came low.

Ulrich lifted Kaliantha from the floor again.

Her feet left the marble as he swung her close against him, turning through the narrow gap between two attacks. The hem of her gown swept above the daggers. One of the demons slashed upward, but Ulrich had already moved her beyond the blade’s reach.

He landed with Kaliantha still against him.

A third dagger carved toward his back.

Ulrich felt it before he saw it.

He twisted at the last moment. The edge caught his coat, cutting through the dark crimson fabric across his shoulder, seeking not deep into his flesh but still drawing another line of blood. The force of the strike pushed him forward, but he used the momentum to carry Kaliantha away from the next attacker.

His boots struck the marble in quick, precise patterns.

Step back.

Turn.

Slide aside.

He kept Kaliantha in front of him, pulled against the line of his body, while he used his own back and arms to take the danger meant for her. The demons had increased their speed, and Ulrich had to match it. Their movements came in rapid sequences now, one strike arriving before the last had fully missed.

A dagger passed near his ribs.

Ulrich bent, pulling Kaliantha down with him, then rose into a turn that carried her around his side. Another blade flashed for his arm. He caught it against the stolen dagger, metal striking metal with a sharp sound that rang through the barrier.

The impact numbed his wrist slightly.

He did not slow.

He moved faster.

The ballroom floor became a blur of black shadows, white masks, and the pale sweep of Kaliantha’s gown. Ulrich’s boots crossed and pivoted over the marble, his body shifting between every line of attack. The demons tried to overwhelm him through pace, forcing him to retreat until he lost his balance or exposed Kaliantha for one fatal instant.

Ulrich refused.

He followed the smallest changes in their bodies. The tilt of a glowing mask. The placement of a foot. The tightening shoulder before a dagger arm moved. His focus narrowed until the rest of the ballroom no longer existed.

There were only five attackers.

Five blades.

Kaliantha’s weight against him.

And the spaces between death.

A demon came from the right.

Ulrich pulled Kaliantha closer and moved left. The blade missed her, but another assassin had already entered from behind. Ulrich jumped backward.

His boots left the floor.

For an instant, he carried Kaliantha with him through the darkness before landing several paces away. The movement sent a sharp jolt through his shoulder, and his coat tore further where the previous dagger had cut it.

He looked past the demons.

The barrier’s darkness had begun to recede.

Only slightly.

At the far edge of the trapped space, he could make out a dim gray shape where the wall of mana had once been completely black. Beyond it came muffled noises: guards striking the barrier, voices calling for the Queen, the faint crackle of spells attempting to break through.

They were weakening it.

Ulrich only needed time.

He slid back another step as a demonic blade came down toward him. The dagger missed his throat by a narrow margin, cutting a strand of red hair loose near his temple.

Ulrich caught the opportunity.

He placed the hilt of his stolen dagger between his teeth.

The metal rested securely against his mouth as he moved both hands for the first time since the attack began.

Kaliantha felt the change at once.

Ulrich shifted her within his arms, supporting her more fully against his chest while his hands reached for the fastenings of his dark crimson coat. He pulled the coat from one shoulder, then the other, never allowing his body to stop moving.

A demon rushed them.

Ulrich stepped away from the first slash, ducked beneath the second, and tugged the coat free.

The fabric came away from his arms.

He drew it around Kaliantha.

The crimson cloth settled over her shoulders and across her back, covering the pale fabric of her gown. Ulrich pulled it close around her, using it as another layer between her and the blades. It was too large for her. The hem fell low behind her, and the collar nearly reached her jaw.

But it hid her.

It made her smaller in the darkness.

Harder to distinguish from Ulrich’s body as he kept her pressed close.

Another empowered strike cut through the air.

Black mana trailed behind the blade, leaving a faint burning line in the darkness.

Ulrich jumped backward with Kaliantha in his arms.

The weapon missed them by a breath.

The force of the swing struck the marble where they had been, and a dark crack spread across the floor.

Ulrich landed.

He took the dagger from between his teeth.

The demons were still closing in.

The barrier was still holding.

But the darkness at its outer edge had weakened further, and the sounds beyond it had grown louder.

Ulrich drew one slow breath.

Then he rushed forward.

Kaliantha remained held tightly against him, wrapped in his crimson coat. Her mismatched eyes watched him from beneath the dark fabric, reflecting the pale lines of the demons’ masks and the blood along Ulrich’s cheek.

Ulrich crossed the marble toward the nearest assassin with the dagger raised while Kaliantha had her eyes glued to him.