My Step-Daughters Are The Villainesses

Following Ulrich’s greeting, with the three witch sisters kneeling behind him, a long pause fell over the hall.

No one moved.

The nobles standing nearest the throne held themselves stiffly, their faces arranged into careful neutrality that fooled no one. Curiosity sat too plainly in their eyes. So did unease. They had all understood at once what this moment meant. The Queen had formally accepted the adoption two years ago, yes, but that had been paper, title, and law. This was different. Bringing those same witches into the heart of the court, into the coming-of-age celebration of the royal princess, before the eyes of the entire high nobility, was another matter entirely.

Even for Ulrich, it was bold.

Or reckless.

The room waited to learn which one it would be.

Then, at last, Kaliantha spoke.

"Lord Rubenhart. Toward the end, I had begun to wonder whether you would truly come."

Her voice carried cleanly through the hall. It was neither warm nor cold in any obvious way. That only made it harder for anyone listening to know what she thought.

"My apologies," Ulrich replied, lifting his gaze to her. "We encountered difficulties on the way."

Kaliantha regarded him for a brief moment, then inclined her head once. "Then it could not be helped."

Her eyes moved past him after that, settling on the three sisters one by one.

Airam first.

Then Hermione.

Then Esther.

"I assume these are the three girls for whom you requested formal adoption two years ago."

"They are," Ulrich said.

He stepped slightly to the side, making room without theatrics, giving them full visibility before the throne and before every noble watching.

To Hermione’s surprise, Airam moved first.

She rose from one knee in a single controlled motion, crossed the short distance forward, and stopped at the proper place before the dais. Her dark gown fell around her in elegant folds. She bent in a flawless curtsy, precise enough to satisfy the strictest tutor.

"Airam Van Rubenhart, Your Majesty."

Her greeting was perfect.

Her eyes were not.

There was no warmth in them when she looked at Kaliantha. No softness. No attempt to hide the hard edge behind her silence.

Hermione saw it and felt a flicker of panic, but there was no time to stop and think. She rose at once and stepped forward to stand beside her sister.

"I am Hermione Van Rubenhart," she said, managing a smile that was gracious without looking weak. "It is an honor to meet Your Majesty."

That, too, landed cleanly.

Then Esther came last.

She gathered the hem of her pale blue gown with careful fingers, lifted it just enough, and lowered herself into a curtsy so gentle and perfect it seemed to change the air around her. When she raised her face again, the nervousness she had worn all evening was gone. In its place sat a calm, bright composure that looked so natural, few would have guessed how frightened she had been moments earlier.

"I am Esther Van Rubenhart, Your Majesty," she said. "I thank Your Majesty for accepting my sisters and me when my lord Rubenhart petitioned for our adoption."

Kaliantha’s gaze rested on Esther a fraction longer.

"Sisters," she repeated.

There was no accusation in the word, but it carried a question.

Ulrich answered it before anyone else could. "They are blood related."

That clarified enough. Within covens, witches often used the language of sisterhood more broadly than noble families did, and the distinction mattered in a court like this. Ulrich cut off the possible confusion before it could spread into whispers.

"Blood related, hm?"

Antonias spoke for the first time, leaning slightly in his seat with a faint smirk that never reached his eyes. His gaze moved over the three girls openly, without restraint or courtesy, and what little amusement sat on his face only made him look more unpleasant.

"I will give you this, Ulrich," he said. "You do know how to make an impression. Adopting the three daughters of a witch you likely killed after wiping their village off the map." His smile sharpened. "You have nothing to envy compared to Eurich. Cruel as him. Perhaps even more."

The change in Airam was fast.

Her eyes darkened so quickly that Hermione felt it beside her before she fully turned. Rage hit Hermione, too, but she moved first. Her hand closed around Airam’s at once, hard enough to warn her. Esther went still on Airam’s other side, her breath catching, her own calm mask threatened by the words.

This was exactly what Ulrich had warned them about.

A trap laid out in plain sight.

Ulrich looked at Antonias with a cold, level gaze that stripped all ease from the King’s smirk.

"I am honored by Your Majesty’s words."

His tone was so even that it made the insult worse instead of easing it. Antonias heard the edge under it immediately. His mouth pulled slightly as he gave a short scoff and shifted, resting his fist against his cheek again while he looked back at the sisters.

"It seems you chose them carefully," he said. "And put them on a very sturdy leash for witches to behave this—"

"I do not believe," Kaliantha said, cutting across him, "that there is any need to continue this line of discussion."

The interruption was sharp and frosty cold.

Antonias’s hand tightened against the armrest. For one brief instant, something ugly crossed his face. He turned toward Kaliantha, but she did not even look at him. She had already dismissed him from the moment.

Instead, she looked at the three sisters.

"Airam. Hermione. Esther."

Each name landed clearly.

"I trust Lord Rubenhart’s judgment," she said. "And I am willing to place trust in your upbringing under his care."

A shift moved through the nobles at the edges of the room, so faint that only someone already expecting trouble would have noticed it. Kaliantha did not need to raise her voice. Her meaning was already sharpening.

"You are now part of Skargardian high nobility," she continued. "You will be treated as such."

Her words sounded like a warning.

Every noble in the room understood it. Any insult toward the sisters would now be an insult delivered against the Queen’s spoken judgment. Any public slight would carry weight it had not carried a moment earlier.

The sisters themselves looked almost more surprised than anyone else.

Hermione felt it first in Esther, whose fingers had loosened slightly in relief. Airam did not soften, but even she seemed caught for a second by the bluntness of Kaliantha’s stance. Hermione herself had expected formality, perhaps distance, perhaps cold acceptance. Not this. Not a defense delivered so openly before the full court.

Ulrich, too, seemed to take note of it, though his face did not change.

Hermione recovered first.

"It is the greatest honor, Your Majesty," she said quickly, before either of her sisters could speak poorly or too slowly.

Kaliantha gave one small nod, accepting the answer.

Then, at last, the pressure in the room shifted. Servants began to move again at the edges. The musicians, who had nearly stopped altogether, found their cue and resumed playing. Conversation had not yet returned, but it wanted to. The court had been given its answer. Now it needed time to decide how to breathe around it.

Kaliantha’s gaze slid back to Ulrich. "You may join the celebration, Lord Rubenhart."

Ulrich placed a hand against his chest once more and bowed his head. "Your Majesty."

He turned then, and the sisters followed him away from the dais beneath the stare of half the kingdom, their gowns trailing over the floor as the court slowly came back to life around them.

"My heart nearly stopped," Esther whispered the moment they were far enough from the dais to breathe again.

She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to calm the furious beat still running through her. The careful serenity she had worn in front of the throne had cracked the instant they were released from it. Her shoulders had gone loose. Her breath came faster. The bright composure from a minute ago had drained away and left Esther looking like timid self again.

"Yeah," Hermione muttered. "Mine too."

She glanced back once toward the thrones, then immediately faced forward again.

"Thankfully, the Queen dismissed us quickly."

She meant it. Kaliantha had seen enough. More than enough, probably. Esther had been holding herself together by sheer force. Hermione had managed better on the surface, but only because anger gave her something solid to stand on. Airam had looked as though she might decide courtesy had done all it was going to do for her and stop there.

The Queen must have seen it.

Hermione could not think of any other reason the exchange had ended so neatly. Kaliantha had spared them from remaining under that pressure any longer than necessary, and whether she had done it out of calculation, pity, or simple court sense hardly mattered right now. The result was the same. They were no longer standing in front of half the kingdom, waiting to see whether one wrong breath would turn into scandal.

Hermione turned her head and looked at Airam.

Their eldest sister had gone quiet. Her gaze had dipped slightly toward the floor, and although her face remained composed, Hermione knew that look well enough. Airam was still there in the hall with them, still walking beside them in her dark gown and pearls, but some part of her mind remained in front of the throne.

"It will be fine, Airam," Hermione said.

Hermione understood too well what sat underneath her silence. She had felt it herself when she bent her knee before the throne. Knowing it would happen was one thing. Doing it was another. Actually lowering their heads before the people who ruled the kingdom that had ordered the destruction of their village, before the crown that had fed the slaughter of witches for generations, before that king who had looked far too pleased with himself, none of it sat lightly in the body once it became real.

Preparation had not changed that.

Warnings had not changed that.

Ulrich’s instructions had not changed that.

Feeling it happen had sharpened everything.

Airam lifted her eyes to Hermione for a moment, then away again. She did not answer.

From ahead of them, Ulrich’s voice cut through the noise of the hall.

"You did well."

All three sisters stopped for half a step.

Hermione turned first. Esther followed at once. Even Airam looked up sharply.

Ulrich had paused and glanced back at them over his shoulder. His expression had not softened much, but the words had been clear. He had praised them.

For a brief instant, none of the three seemed to know what to do with that.

Ulrich turned more fully toward them then, giving them his attention instead of only the angle of his face.

"You behaved well," he said.

His gaze moved from one sister to the next, resting on Airam a heartbeat longer than on the others.

"Whatever anger you feel, whatever hatred you carry, restraint remains important. Do not throw away the protection I have given you. And do not throw away the Queen’s words."

The meaning landed easily enough.

Kaliantha had defended them in front of the court. Publicly. If the sisters lost control now, if they snapped at nobles, caused a scene, or gave anyone the excuse they were already waiting for, then it would not only stain Ulrich’s judgment. It would turn the Queen’s intervention into a mistake. The nobles would not say that openly, of course. They would say it behind closed doors with wine in hand and satisfaction in their mouths. They would speak of witches as they always had, only now with proof they could wave around.

Esther nodded at once, eager and sincere. "Yes, we won’t."

The seriousness on her face made her look almost solemn, but she looked just adorable instead.

Hermione lifted her chin a little. "I will keep Airam in check."

Airam turned to her immediately. "I do not need to be kept in check."

Hermione gave her a look. "That is exactly what someone who needs to be kept in check would say."

Airam ignored her and shifted her gaze back to Ulrich.

"I will do what is necessary," she said grumbling.

Ulrich looked at her.

Very faintly, almost too faintly to be certain of it, Ulrich’s lips curved.

It was not enough to be called a smile by anyone who did not know him. For the sisters, it might as well have been one.

All three of them froze where they stood.

Ulrich turned away before any of them could speak and resumed walking into the body of the hall, his crimson coat shifting behind him as the sisters stared after him and hurried to follow.