My Step-Daughters Are The Villainesses

"Hold on to me more tightly, Your Majesty."

Ulrich’s voice came out as a whisper between one breath and the next. He was afraid of her slipping even so slightly from his grip because only one detail and she could be cut down.

The demons remained spread before him, their white-lined masks cutting pale shapes through the barrier’s darkness. Five of them still stood. Five blades caught the thin light at different angles. Black mana clung to their weapons and sleeves, breathing out that foul scent of ash and old blood.

Ulrich had the dagger in one hand.

His other arm remained around Kaliantha.

He could not fight properly while holding her as he had before. The demons had become too fast, their attacks too coordinated. They were no longer testing where his limits lay. They had seen enough to understand that Kaliantha was unreachable while he kept her close.

Now they intended to break him first.

Kaliantha did not answer immediately.

Ulrich expected her to ask what he meant. He expected another restrained question, another demand for an explanation before she allowed him to move her differently.

Instead, she moved closer.

Her arms went around his waist.

Ulrich felt her fingers tighten against his back beneath the torn fabric of his waistcoat. Then she rested her head against his chest, pressing herself against him until her face was hidden beneath his chin and the collar of his shirt.

For a fraction of a second, Ulrich stood still.

The gesture surprised him more than the demons had.

Kaliantha had been composed through every moment of the attack. She had allowed him to hold her, allowed him to guide her across the ballroom, allowed him to lift her clear of blades and pull her beneath his body whenever a strike came too close.

But this was different.

She had chosen to cling to him.

He was pretty sure she was very uncomfortable at first.

But Ulrich did not question it.

It made things easier for him, on the contrary.

Her arms secured around his waist gave him more freedom to move. His left arm could remain at her back without needing to hold all her weight. Her body stayed close to his center, where he could protect her with each turn and change in direction.

He adjusted his grip around her.

One arm pressed across her back beneath his crimson coat, holding her against him. The coat covered her shoulders and concealed much of her pale gown beneath its fabric. Kaliantha’s face remained hidden against his chest. Her platinum pink hair brushed against his throat as she lowered her head.

Ulrich looked ahead.

The five demons watched him.

The assassin with the broken wrist stood near the rear of the formation. His injured hand hung uselessly at his side, but he held another dagger in his good hand. The others had shifted into a loose half-circle, their glowing masks facing Ulrich from every side.

Ulrich took one step forward.

The demons moved.

The nearest assassin rushed first.

His dagger came down from above, black mana burning around the edge. Ulrich bent beneath the strike, taking Kaliantha down with him. The blade swept over his shoulder and cut through only darkness.

Ulrich rose immediately.

His dagger flashed upward.

The stolen blade caught the demon beneath the ribs, slipping through the gap between coat and armor.

The assassin stiffened in shock at the sheer speed behind it.

A dark sound escaped behind the glowing mask.

Ulrich pulled the dagger free.

Dark red blood spilled over his hand.

The demon stumbled back, but Ulrich did not follow him.

A second blade had already come for his side.

Ulrich turned sharply.

Kaliantha moved with him, held so close that her feet barely touched the marble during the sudden spin. The demon’s dagger cut through the air beside Ulrich’s waist. He used the turn to bring his knee up hard into the attacker’s stomach.

The impact bent the demon forward.

Ulrich drove the heel of his boot into the side of its knee.

Bone cracked.

The assassin collapsed with a harsh cry, one hand dropping toward the floor as the other struggled to keep hold of the dagger.

Ulrich’s blade went down.

The demon’s glowing mask tipped backward as the dagger entered beneath its jaw.

Kaliantha felt the movement through Ulrich’s body.

The violence happened close enough that she heard the wet sound of the blade leaving flesh. Yet she did not pull back. Her hands remained locked around his waist. Her head stayed against his chest, her cheek resting over the fast, heavy beat of his heart.

It was loud beneath her ear.

Ulrich’s heart struck hard and quick within his chest as he fought. Each beat carried through the layers of his shirt and waistcoat. Kaliantha could feel the force of it against her cheek, regular beneath the violent movements that carried them through the dark.

For the first time since the barrier had risen, she stopped trying to understand everything.

She stopped thinking of the guards outside.

Of the drunken Antonias.

Of Albert and Camellia.

Of the demons who had entered her daughter’s celebration.

She listened to Ulrich’s heartbeat.

And she held on.

A third assassin came at them from the right.

Ulrich saw the white bands of its mask before the blade moved. He stepped toward it rather than away.

The demon appeared surprised.

Its dagger thrust forward.

Ulrich twisted aside by the narrowest margin. The blackened edge passed close enough to slice through the torn edge of his shirt, grazing his side without finding a deep wound.

Ulrich drove his elbow into the demon’s face.

The impact cracked the mask.

White lines of light flickered across the broken surface. The assassin staggered, and Ulrich swept his leg behind its ankle. The demon lost balance.

Ulrich did not let it fall cleanly.

He hooked an arm beneath the demon’s weapon arm, pulled it forward, and used its momentum to throw it across the marble.

The body struck the floor and slid away.

Another demon closed in at once.

Ulrich jumped.

He carried Kaliantha with him.

For a heartbeat, they left the floor together. The demon’s blade swept beneath them, missing the trailing hem of Ulrich’s crimson coat by inches. Ulrich landed lightly beyond the strike, his boots sliding across the marble before he caught his balance.

Then he pivoted.

The demon who had swung at him turned too slowly.

Ulrich’s boot struck the side of its head.

The force sent the assassin sideways. Its glowing mask fractured against the ground, and the white bands went dark.

Ulrich stepped over the fallen body.

The first demon he had stabbed had recovered enough to rush him from behind.

Ulrich heard it.

The scrape of a boot.

The disturbed air.

The faint sound of demonic mana gathering around a raised weapon.

He moved Kaliantha to one side, tightening his arm around her back until she was almost lifted against him. His body shifted around her as the blade came down.

The dagger tore across his upper arm.

Pain burned through him.

Blood ran warm beneath the sleeve of his shirt.

Ulrich did not give the demon room to strike again.

He turned into it.

His forehead struck the assassin’s mask with brutal force.

The glowing surface shattered.

The demon reeled backward.

Ulrich drove his dagger into its chest.

Once.

Then again, higher.

The assassin’s body jerked beneath the impact. Its fingers loosened around the weapon it held, and it sank to the marble with black blood spreading beneath it.

Three demons had fallen.

Two remained standing.

The injured demon with the broken wrist had moved farther back. He watched Ulrich through the pale glow of its mask, his good hand raised with a dagger held tight. The final assassin stood several paces away, black mana gathering more densely around both arms.

They had now understood that they were facing one kind of monster, and that until now he had been holding back.

He was a dangerous threat.

The final two moved together.

One went low.

The other came high.

Ulrich stepped backward at the exact moment their blades crossed through the space in front of him. Kaliantha’s hold tightened around his waist as he shifted, and he felt the small involuntary movement of her body against his chest.

He did not slow.

The demon with the broken wrist lunged in from the left. Ulrich ducked beneath the dagger, then sprang forward. His boot struck the attacker’s good wrist.

The dagger flew away.

The demon tried to retreat.

Ulrich caught it by the collar and pulled it forward. Kaliantha remained against him, his arm holding her tightly as he used the demon’s own movement against it.

He slammed the assassin’s head into his raised knee.

The broken mask split apart.

Ulrich threw the body down.

The last demon was already upon him.

Its weapon was not a dagger.

Black mana had formed into a long, curved blade around its hand, unstable and violent, as though darkness itself had been sharpened. It swung with enough force to split the air, its path leaving a harsh hiss behind it.

Ulrich jumped back.

The blade missed them.

It struck the marble where he had stood.

The floor cracked.

Dark mana crawled through the broken stone.

Ulrich saw the danger in the weapon at once. A direct block would be useless. The stolen dagger might not survive the force behind that strike, and Kaliantha was too close to risk the shock travelling through his arm.

He would have to avoid it.

The demon swung again.

Ulrich moved to the side.

The black blade passed near his shoulder. He turned, carrying Kaliantha through the movement as though they had returned to the dance. Her crimson-covered body moved with his. Her hands stayed around him. Her head remained pressed beneath his chin, listening to his heartbeat while his boots traced swift patterns across the broken marble.

The demon attacked a third time.

Ulrich bent low.

The blade passed over them.

He shifted his weight, planted one boot, and sprang upward.

Kaliantha’s body lifted with him again as Ulrich turned through the air. For a brief instant, the movement resembled a fast, impossible turn from their earlier dance: the Count and Queen suspended within the darkness, his crimson coat wrapped around her, white mask-light flashing against the blood on his face.

Then Ulrich landed behind the demon.

The assassin tried to turn.

Too late.

Ulrich’s dagger entered from behind.

The demon’s black mana blade vanished.

Its body locked for one breath, then fell forward onto the marble.

Silence returned inside the barrier.

Only Ulrich’s breathing remained.

Only Kaliantha’s hands against his back.

Only the distant sound of guards outside striking at the weakening barrier.

Ulrich stood still.

Five bodies lay across the ballroom floor.

The masked demons no longer moved. Their pale masks had cracked or gone dark, and dark red blood spread around them in irregular pools. Broken weapons lay beside their hands. The air still carried the bitter scent of their mana, but it was fading.

Kaliantha did not release Ulrich.

Neither did he release her.

For a few seconds, he allowed his arm to remain around her back. His hand pressed against the crimson coat that covered her, assuring himself that she was still there, still uninjured, still breathing beneath the chaos.

Then the barrier broke.

A crack tore through the ballroom.

The dark wall surrounding them fractured in streaks of white and silver. The mana barrier, which had held for barely two minutes, splintered under the pressure of the royal knights’ spells. Light flooded inward from every direction.

Knights stood beyond the breaking barrier with their hands raised, mana gathered between their palms. Brilliant spheres of white light hung above them, casting sharp illumination across the ballroom. The broken chandeliers remained dark overhead, but the knights’ spells filled the hall more brightly than the lamps had.

The darkness vanished.

Every eye turned toward the center of the floor.

"Your Majesty!"

Commander Marx Lambert’s voice rang through the ballroom.

He pushed forward through the dispersing fragments of the barrier, his sword drawn and his face tight with fear. Behind him came Albert and Camellia.

Albert’s expression had lost all color.

Camellia stood beside him, one hand pressed against her mouth as she stared at the floor.

The entire court stared.

The white and dark fragments of the broken barrier fell around Ulrich and Kaliantha like drifting sparks. They caught in the air above them, glittering briefly before fading.

Five demon bodies lay bloodied across the marble.

At the center stood Ulrich.

Blood marked his cheek, his arm, his back, and the side of his shirt. His dagger remained in one hand, its edge dark with the blood of the assassins.

His other arm held Kaliantha close against him.

The Queen wore his crimson coat over her gown. Her arms remained around his back, her face still near his chest as though she had not yet remembered to let go. Ulrich’s body stood between her and every fallen assassin, his arm secure around her as white sparks continued falling over them.

No one spoke.

No noble dared whisper.

They only watched the Queen of Skargardia held in Count Rubenhart’s arms at the center of the bloodied ballroom, surrounded by five dead demons and the dying remnants of a shattered barrier.