My Step-Daughters Are The Villainesses

"My lord," he said. "I found one."

Astrid stood at Ulrich’s side, watching them both.

Her curiosity had replaced most of her anger.

"What do you mean, you found one?" She demanded before Ulrich could speak. "Who is it?"

The musician startled and looked toward her.

Ulrich gave Astrid a brief, unwelcoming glance.

She pressed her lips together but did not move away.

The musician turned back toward Ulrich, lowering his voice further.

"The second quartet beside the royal dais, my lord. The one with the harpist. There is a violinist among them who does not belong with the others."

"The man in the mask," Ulrich said.

The musician blinked.

"Yes, my lord. Him."

Astrid looked past the musician toward the royal dais.

The masked violinist remained in place with the other performers. From this distance, he seemed entirely ordinary. He wore the formal black clothing expected of palace musicians, and his bow moved neatly across the strings. The half-mask on his face was peculiar, but not sufficiently strange to make the surrounding nobles look twice.

"What is wrong with him?" Astrid asked.

The musician swallowed.

"He can play. That is why I was not certain at first. He knows how to hold the violin, and he knows the piece well enough to avoid obvious mistakes. But his fingers are wrong."

Ulrich’s eyes narrowed.

"Explain."

"He is watching the others before he moves." The musician rubbed his thumb against the neck of his own violin, demonstrating without seeming to notice it. "A proper player hears the rhythm. He feels where the melody is going. He does not need to keep checking the first violinist before every difficult change."

Astrid looked at the quartet again, though the distance made it impossible for her to see the details the musician had noticed.

"He could simply be nervous," she said.

The musician shook his head uncertainly.

"Perhaps, my lady. Yet there is more. His bow is held correctly, but there is no wear on the leather beneath his fingers. A musician who has practiced for years presses there every day. The grip darkens. It softens from sweat and oil."

He paused, glancing toward Ulrich as though afraid he had spoken too much.

"The man’s bow is too new. His violin is too good, but the bridge has no marks from regular tuning. His left hand has calluses, though not in the places a violinist should have them. They are closer to the palm."

Ulrich’s gaze lowered briefly toward the musician’s own hands.

The difference made sense.

A swordsman’s calluses. A guard’s. Someone accustomed to gripping a weapon rather than holding strings beneath their fingertips.

The violinist had not been placed among the musicians merely to look harmless. He had been given a role that allowed him to stand close to the royal dais with a case large enough to conceal whatever tool the demons had prepared.

Ulrich remained silent.

Astrid’s eyes moved between them.

"You are saying he is pretending to be a musician?" She asked.

The late violinist looked uncomfortable answering her, but he gave a small nod.

"I believe so, my lady. I cannot swear it before the Crown, but I have played long enough to know when a person has learned music and when he has learned how to imitate it."

Astrid stared toward the masked man again.

Her face had lost the spoiled anger she had worn earlier. The realization had not yet fully settled in her, but Ulrich saw the unease in the way her arms had loosened at her sides.

She was beginning to understand that this was not about poor music.

Ulrich looked at the musician.

"Was there a particular arrangement planned for later?"

The man frowned.

"My lord?"

"After the dancing."

The musician blinked several times, clearly struggling to understand why that question mattered.

"The music will continue, my lord."

Ulrich’s stare remained on him.

The man hastily tried again.

"I mean... there will be changes after the next set. The Master of Ceremonies told us there would be speeches for Her Highness. The musicians will be gathered closer to the dais for that."

Astrid looked at Ulrich.

He did not return the glance.

"What changes?" He asked.

The musician thought for a moment.

"The quartets will not remain in their present places. We are spread around the ballroom now because the guests are dancing. When the speeches begin, the performers will move toward the raised platform so the royal family can hear the music properly."

"Which side?"

"The left side of the dais, my lord. Near the steps." He pointed carefully through the crowd. "The harpist and strings will be closest. The other players will form behind them. There is little room, so we will be placed tightly together."

Ulrich’s eyes followed the direction of the man’s finger.

The left side of the royal dais.

Close enough to the throne.

Close enough to Kaliantha.

He had expected the demons to use the guard replacements to bring an assassin into the palace. That part had been correct. The man in the mask had entered under the protection of a false musical assignment, passed through the royal hall carrying a violin case, and taken his place near the dais before Ulrich had even known which face to look for.

But the demon had not intended to attack yet.

There were too many eyes on Kaliantha while she sat on the throne. Her guards were placed around her. The distance between the dais and the musicians left little chance of reaching her before the royal guard cut him down.

The true opportunity would come later.

When the royal family rose.

When the guests drew back to watch.

When everyone’s attention shifted toward Camellia.

Ulrich’s thoughts moved through the coming sequence one piece at a time.

The speeches.

The musicians gathered close.

Camellia’s ceremonial dance.

Kaliantha leaving the throne.

The royal guards adjusting their formation.

A crowded space near the steps.

A false musician with a weapon hidden in his case.

He looked back to the late violinist.

"Why would the musicians move closer?"

The man gave him a confused look.

"For the princess’s dance, my lord."

Astrid’s expression changed.

"Princess Camellia’s dance?"

"Yes, my lady," the musician replied. "After the speech, Her Highness is meant to dance with His Majesty. The Master of Ceremonies explained it before the event began. It is part of the coming-of-age celebration."

Ulrich’s eyes became colder.

"With the King," he repeated.

"Yes, my lord. His Majesty and Princess Camellia will open the next waltz. A gentler one. The sort people watch rather than join at first."

The musician’s face brightened slightly as he explained something familiar.

"The musicians are supposed to play a formal piece written for the royal family. It begins slowly. The King will lead Her Highness across the center of the hall while everyone watches."

Ulrich did not care about the music.

"What of the Queen?"

The musician stopped.

"The Queen?"

"What is Queen Kaliantha meant to do?"

The man looked toward the dais, trying to remember the instructions given before the celebration.

"Her Majesty may dance with His Majesty after the princess, I believe. Or perhaps with the Crown Prince while the King dances with Princess Camellia. The Master of Ceremonies had not been precise which arrangement would be used until the royal family was ready. I suppose eventually it will be decided by their Majesties."

Astrid’s eyes widened.

"Mother and daughter are both meant to dance?"

"The Queen may join, yes," the musician said. "It is meant to be a beautiful sight for the guests. The royal family together on the floor."

Ulrich processed that.

The assassin would wait until Kaliantha moved.

That was the answer.

The throne was secure. The dance floor was less so.

During the formal waltz, Kaliantha would leave the protection of the raised dais. Her guards would have to move with her through an open space filled with nobles, attendants, and musicians changing position near the steps. The King and Camellia would draw everyone’s eyes toward the center of the floor. If Albert danced with Kaliantha, then the Crown Prince’s own guard would move close as well, creating even more confusion around the royal family.

The assassin only needed a single gap.

A single moment in which he could abandon the violin, draw whatever had been hidden inside the case, and strike before anyone understood why a musician had moved from his place.

Poison had never been the plan.

It was too unreliable against Kaliantha’s blood.

A weapon enchanted to pierce mana, perhaps. A cursed blade. A relic built for one attack and one target. The demons had enough knowledge to choose something capable of killing a woman whose body would reject ordinary poisons.

Ulrich’s hand closed slowly at his side.

He had found the timing.

He had found the method of entry.

Now he needed to know whether the masked violinist was the only threat in the hall.

"Only one?" Ulrich asked.

The musician looked alarmed again.

"My lord?"

"Among those you inspected. Did you find only one suspicious player?"

The musician hesitated.

"I think so."

"You think."

"I listened to two quartets closely and watched the third from a distance." He swallowed. "The masked player was the only one who felt wrong. The others complained about the music, argued about the tempo, and worried about the Master of Ceremonies. They behaved like musicians."

His eyes flickered toward the dais.

"The man in the mask did not complain once. He barely spoke. He watched the royal family whenever he believed the others were not looking."

Astrid went still.

Ulrich had already suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed by someone who had seen the man at close range gave the conclusion a sharper edge.

The musician had done what Ulrich asked.

More importantly, he had done it without alerting the false violinist.

For now, the demon still believed itself hidden.

Ulrich could use that.

"Go," he said.

The musician stared.

"My lord?"

"Return to the other performers. Do not approach him again. Do not speak of this conversation to anyone."

The man nodded quickly.

"But what should I do if he—"

"Nothing."

The answer stopped him.

Ulrich’s red eyes fixed on the musician with enough force that the man’s hands tightened around his violin and bow.

"You saw a poor player. That is all you saw. You are disappointed you were not given a place in a quartet, so you continue waiting for an opportunity to perform. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my lord."

"If anyone asks why you spoke to me, tell them Lady Astrid nearly knocked you down, and I told you to be more careful."

Astrid stared at him.

"What?"

Ulrich did not look at her.

The musician seemed relieved to receive a simple lie he could repeat. He bowed deeply, nearly losing hold of his bow as he did so.

"Yes, my lord. I understand."

"Go."

The late violinist hurried away immediately.

Astrid watched him leave.

For several moments, she said nothing.

Then her gaze moved to Ulrich.

"You believe someone is going to hurt Her Highness."

Ulrich did not answer.

"Or the Queen."

Still nothing.

"Count Rubenhart."

Ulrich looked at her at last.

The coldness in his eyes made the next words die in her throat.

"What you believe," he said quietly, "is irrelevant."

Astrid’s lips parted in outrage.

He continued before she could protest.

"You will return to Camellia."

Her eyes widened.

"Why would I—"

"Because you wanted to be beside her."

"I—If there is real danger, then we should inform—"

"You will not tell her anything," Ulrich cut in. "You will not stare at the musicians. You will not draw attention to the dais. Speak to Her Highness as you intended. Keep her occupied."

Astrid stared at him.

"And I am supposed to ignore what I just heard and witnessed?" Her voice rose before she caught it and forced it down again. "If there is someone suspicious, we should inform the guards and—"

Ulrich stepped closer.

Before she could finish, he pressed the rim of his wineglass lightly against her lips.

Astrid froze.

The cold glass silenced her more effectively than any order could have. A few drops of wine touched her lower lip, and her eyes widened in shock as she stared up at him.

Ulrich’s face remained stern.

"There is nothing certain yet," he said. "If he proves to be only a poor musician, you will have created a disturbance at a royal event over your own suspicions. Every person in this hall will remember you as the embarrassment of Princess Camellia’s coming-of-age celebration."

Astrid pulled away sharply, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.

Her blue eyes flashed with anger.

"You—"

"Do not shout."

"I—I do not think you would be acting like this if you were not certain!" She whispered strongly. "You sent that man to investigate him. You asked about the speeches and the dances. You are clearly hiding something."

Ulrich looked at her without warmth.

It seemed she wasn’t entirely stupid either.

"If there is an enemy here," he said, "which is more dangerous: one who believes himself secure, or one who realizes he has been discovered?"

Astrid’s mouth opened.

The answer came immediately, but she stopped before speaking. Her eyes shifted unwillingly toward the masked violinist near the royal dais.

The man continued playing.

His shoulders rose and fell in time with the music. His masked profile remained tilted toward his instrument. Anyone watching from a distance would see only another entertainer, one more dark-clad figure contributing to the pleasant harmony that filled the hall.

If he had been exposed too soon—

If the guards had rushed him, surrounded him, and demanded answers...

He might attempt something immediately. He might strike at the closest person. He might flee through the confusion. Or he might not be alone to act on, which was even worse.

Astrid’s anger lost some of its force.

"The one who realizes he has been discovered..." she muttered.

Ulrich gave a single nod.

The late violinist had given him enough to understand the shape of the attempt.

He knew the WHO and WHEN.

Now remained the HOW.

Besides that, how was he supposed to intervene without looking suspicious and losing the demons’ trust completely?