My Step-Daughters Are The Villainesses

"We need to find out," Ulrich said.

"We," Kaliantha repeated.

The word lingered between them.

She sat across from him with one leg crossed over the other, her posture flawless despite the private nature of the meeting.

"You have a poor image at court, Lord Rubenhart," she said. "Most people see only the cold Count who avoids their company, speaks little, and appears to care for nothing beyond his own territory."

Ulrich did not dispute it.

"Nobody knows how extensively you have assisted this kingdom," Kaliantha continued. "They do not know how many demon ships have been stopped because of you. How many lives were spared. How many of their own estates may have been protected by information you provided in secret."

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"And it seems you have no wish for anyone to know."

"To be respectful, Your Majesty," Ulrich said, a faint coldness entering his voice, "I could not care less for other people's acknowledgment."

Kaliantha watched him.

"What about mine?"

Ulrich raised an eyebrow.

The question was unexpected.

Kaliantha did not look away.

"Should I assume that you care what I think of you?" She asked, her expression serious.

Ulrich considered the question.

Then he gave a small nod.

"Your Majesty is the Queen."

For a brief moment, Kaliantha's lips curved into a faint smile.

It was not quite amusement.

"You truly are difficult," she said.

Ulrich remained silent.

"Two years," Kaliantha said. "For two years, you have helped me more than most people realize. You have given me warnings that saved lives. You have quietly acted against threats to my kingdom. And when demons came for me directly, you put yourself between me and them without hesitation."

Her gaze lowered to her hands.

"But I know you are hiding something from me."

The faint warmth in her expression disappeared.

"It prevents me from judging you as I wish to judge you. I cannot give you my complete trust while I know there are truths you deliberately keep from me."

Her fingers tightened slightly together.

"Even if I wish to."

Ulrich looked at her.

Kaliantha's honesty was more direct than he expected.

She did not pretend to trust him completely.

She did not demand he explain himself immediately, either.

She was simply telling him where they stood.

And the fact that she wanted to trust him mattered more than she likely understood.

"All Your Majesty needs to know," Ulrich said slowly, "is that I am on your side."

Kaliantha's eyes lifted.

"Not the kingdom's?"

Ulrich did not hesitate.

"Your Majesty is the kingdom."

Silence followed.

Kaliantha's expression remained composed, but something shifted in her mismatched eyes. Ulrich could not name it. Surprise, perhaps. Or something softer that she did not permit herself to show for long.

"Is that why you were so willing to protect me?" She asked. "Why you put your life on the line?"

Ulrich's gaze shifted slightly.

"Your Majesty possessed the necklace," he began. "I was relieved to know that—"

"It does not matter."

Kaliantha interrupted him.

"The necklace can protect me. It may resist poison or prevent a single lethal blow. But it cannot fight five demons. It cannot remove me from a sealed barrier. And no one but you knew precisely what it could do."

She leaned forward slightly.

"Yet you remained beside me."

Ulrich looked back at her.

"You knew there was danger. You had every opportunity to retreat. Instead, you stood between me and those demons. You took their attacks. You bled for me."

She narrowed her eyes.

"Why?"

Ulrich did not answer.

The truth was complicated.

He had not truly believed his own death was possible to begin with. He was confident in fighting off and surviving.

Kaliantha, however, was different.

The Phoenix Heart might have protected her.

Or it might not have.

The demons could have prepared for it. They might have possessed a way to suppress it, delay it, or exploit the moment before it awakened. And even if it activated successfully, its existence would be exposed. Once the demons knew of the Phoenix Heart, they would not allow it to remain an unknown advantage.

Ulrich wanted to delay that discovery for as long as possible.

But that was not the entire truth either.

He had seen Kaliantha in danger.

And he had moved.

She was far too important a figure, one of the rare level-headed figures in this world with actual power and status, capable of making things happen.

"Because—"

"I do not expect you to say, 'because you are my Queen,'" Kaliantha interrupted.

Ulrich stopped.

As expected, she was not naïve.

She would not accept a convenient answer simply because it sounded appropriate.

Ulrich had no answer he could give without revealing too much.

He could not speak of Silas.

He could not speak of a novel.

He could not tell her that he knew her death had once been part of a predetermined story, that her survival was tied to the future of the entire kingdom, or that he had been trying to force a broken future onto a different path.

He wanted to be honest about one thing, at least.

His connection to the demons.

His position as a double agent.

But Kaliantha would demand to know how he had made contact with them in the first place. She would investigate. And eventually, she might discover the truth he most needed to conceal.

Before recovering Silas's memories, Ulrich had genuinely intended to aid the demons.

He had traded with them.

He had allowed them access to his territory.

He had received a demon core in exchange.

At the time, he had been willing to help them weaken Skargardia if it meant advancing his own power.

Even if he had changed, even if he now worked against them, that past would not disappear.

And if Kaliantha learned it, the trust he had struggled to earn could collapse entirely.

Ulrich's eyes lowered briefly toward the tea untouched between them.

Then he looked at her again.

"I cannot explain everything," he said.

Kaliantha did not react.

"But I can tell Your Majesty this much," he said. "I did not enter that barrier to die for the kingdom. I entered it because I refused to let you die."

The room became very quiet.

Kaliantha's heterochromatic eyes remained on him.

Ulrich continued before she could interpret the words too freely.

"Skargardia needs you. Your children need you. The coming war, whatever form it takes, will need you as well. There are people in this kingdom who would suffer greatly if anything happened to you."

Kaliantha's gaze did not waver.

"And you?" She asked.

Ulrich paused.

For perhaps the first time since the discussion began, he found himself without an immediate answer.

At last, Ulrich spoke.

"I would not allow it," he said.

It was not an explanation.

Yet it was the closest to honesty he could offer.

Kaliantha looked at him for a long time.

Then she leaned back into the couch.

"I see," she said quietly.

Ulrich could not tell whether she truly did.

But she did not press him further.

Not yet.

Kaliantha was quiet for several moments.

Ulrich assumed the matter had been set aside, at least temporarily. He had given her as much truth as he safely could. He had admitted that he would not allow her death. He had made clear that he could not yet reveal every reason behind his actions.

For now, that would have to be enough.

Then Kaliantha spoke again.

"The gift you gave Camellia was lovely."

Ulrich blinked.

The sudden change in subject caught him off guard.

For a moment, he wondered if she meant to return to the larger discussion through some indirect path. But her voice remained normal, almost conversational, as she watched him from across the low table.

"The pendant," she clarified. "The camellia-shaped artifact."

Ulrich straightened slightly.

"It was intended as a coming-of-age gift for Her Highness," he said. "And as a precaution for her safety."

"I saw that, but why Camellia?"

Ulrich paused.

Kaliantha leaned back into the couch, her fingers resting lightly against the armrest.

"You protected me because I am the Queen," she said. "You have explained that Skargardia needs me, that my children need me, and that my death would bring consequences you consider unacceptable."

Her eyes sharpened.

"That is understandable."

Ulrich remained silent.

"But Camellia is a young princess," Kaliantha continued. "She has guards. She has tutors, attendants, knights, and a mother who would tear the kingdom apart before allowing harm to come to her." Her gaze did not leave his. "What reason did you have to commission a rare artifact specifically for her?"

Ulrich found himself at a loss for words.

The reason was obvious to him.

But he could not say it.

Three years from now, Camellia would enter Arcadian Academy. The story would begin in earnest. She would become the central figure around whom disasters gathered with unnatural consistency: dangerous encounters, rivalries, cursed artifacts, demon plots, assassinations, betrayals, and every other calamity the novel had once treated as an inevitable step toward its conclusion.

Camellia would be in danger constantly.

The pendant had been a small attempt to prepare for that future.

A single defense.

One moment of safety.

A slim chance that she might wear it when it mattered.

And it had been more than that.

Ulrich needed Camellia to trust him before the academy. In three years, he would be there as a teacher. If danger came, and it would, she would be more likely to heed a warning from someone she knew rather than a cold Count who suddenly appeared to interfere in her life.

The gift had been a thread.

A quiet connection he hoped would hold when the future began to unravel.

But none of that could be spoken aloud.

"At the ceremony," he said slowly, "I observed that Her Highness carries a great deal of responsibility for someone her age."

Kaliantha listened without interrupting.

"She is thoughtful," Ulrich continued. "She worries about others. She pays attention to what people leave unsaid. Those qualities are valuable, but they can also make someone vulnerable."

He paused briefly, trying to sound as sincere as possible because he was actually not lying, but he was clearly not answering her question either.

"Her Highness will eventually face the world beyond this castle," Ulrich said. "No guard can remain beside her every moment. A princess is surrounded by protection until the one moment she finds herself beyond it."

The Queen's eyes remained on him.

"The pendant may give her one more chance," he finished. "That is all I intended."

"You expect danger to reach her," Kaliantha said.

Ulrich's gaze lifted.

"I expect danger to reach everyone important in the coming years."

"That is not an answer."

"No," Ulrich agreed. "It is not."

Kaliantha looked back at him.

The question she had asked was simple. Yet something else seemed to rest beneath it: a mother's instinct, perhaps, searching for the intention behind a gift made for her daughter by a man Kaliantha still could not fully read.

Ulrich met her eyes without evasion.

"I do not have improper intentions toward Princess Camellia," he said.

Kaliantha's brows lifted faintly.

"I did not accuse you of such."

"I know."

"Then why clarify it?"

Ulrich paused.

There were several answers he could have given.

Because a necklace from an unmarried Count to a princess could be misinterpreted.

Because the court was filled with people eager to find scandal in any gesture.

Because King Antonias would gladly seize upon any excuse to turn suspicion into hostility.

But saying any of that would only make the situation stranger.

Kaliantha remained silent, tapping one slender finger against the armrest of her couch.

Then she spoke.

"I had assumed you would offer such a gift to me."

Ulrich looked at her.

For a moment, he was not certain he had heard correctly.

Kaliantha leaned her cheek lightly against her closed fist. Her gaze remained fixed upon him, though the faint light in her impaired irises made her impossible to read.

"You appear to hold me in the highest esteem," she said. "And I seem to occupy the foremost place among those you intend to protect."

Her head tilted slightly.

"Am I mistaken, Count Rubenhart?"

Ulrich considered his response carefully.

He was not mistaken about the implication. Kaliantha had noticed that he placed her safety above nearly everything else. He had acted against the demons for the kingdom, yes, but he had also risked exposing himself to preserve her life.

And he had given Camellia a protective artifact.

Not her.

"Yes," Ulrich said at last. "Pardon my discourtesy, Your Majesty. The idea only occurred to me recently, when Princess Camellia's birthday approached."

He paused.

"However, I will prepare something appropriate for Your Majesty's birthday as well."

As he spoke, Ulrich found himself wondering why the exchange felt so familiar.

It was strangely reminiscent of Hermione's expression just earlier when Camellia thanked him for the gift.

The thought was absurd.

Kaliantha was the Queen.

She was not Hermione.

Yet the sensation remained.

Kaliantha's fingers stopped tapping.

"Hopefully," she said, "it will be as thoughtful as the one you offered my daughter."

There was a faint chill beneath the words.

Ulrich's eyes widened almost imperceptibly.

"I have no improper intentions toward Her Highness," he repeated.

Kaliantha stared at him.

The silence stretched.

Ulrich could not understand her reaction any other way. A mother was naturally cautious when an older, unmarried man gave a personal gift to her daughter, particularly a beautiful pendant designed specifically for her. He had expected concern. He had expected questions.

But he did not know how else to reassure her.

"I selected the pendant because it was practical," Ulrich continued. "A necklace is difficult to lose, easy to wear beneath clothing, and remains close enough to the body for the enchantment to respond quickly. The camellia design was chosen because it suited Her Highness's name. Nothing more."

"I know."

Kaliantha answered..

Ulrich fell quiet.

Her expression did not soften. She continued to watch him, fist against her cheek.

"I know you have no improper intentions toward my daughter," Kaliantha said again.

"Then—"

Ulrich stopped.

He did not know how to finish.

Kaliantha let the silence remain for another moment before speaking.

"You are a very practical man, Lord Rubenhart," she said. "You claim the pendant was practical. You claim your actions in the ballroom were practical. You insist that you protect people because it is necessary for the kingdom."

Her lips curved into the smallest smile.

"But sometimes practicality is simply the excuse you use when you do not wish to admit that you care."

Ulrich looked at her.

Kaliantha straightened, removing her hand from her cheek.

"I do not require you to explain yourself further," she said. "Nor do I require a gift to prove your loyalty."

Her gaze lowered briefly to the tea table between them.

"But I will remember that you thought to protect my daughter."

Then she looked back at him.

"And I will look forward to seeing what you consider appropriate for your Queen."

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