***

As the banquet hall hadn’t been cleaned yet, dinner was served in a small salon off the bedroom.

It was essentially a formal dinner for two.

Amid the ruins and disorder, they sat facing each other at a table decorated with wildflowers that Joe had gathered from the garden, waiting for the village women’s dishes to arrive.

Helena broke the silence.

“Benjamin Ishpern. Do you remember our vows?”

“…?”

“We made a vow before God and our two noble families. That as lords of the great land of Ishpern, and as husband and wife – united in body and soul – we would go forward together as wise and thoughtful partners.”

Then the meal was served.

The starter was a thin flatbread baked in a stone oven, topped with bitter, coarse greens, small fish marinated in oil and generously grated local cheese.

Helena took her sharp fork and knife and cut into the thin bread.

The freshly baked crust cracked cleanly under the edge of the knife.

The sharp clink of blade against plate rang out between them.

Helena continued, her voice as sharp as the sound.

“As Lady of the House of Ishpern, I have both the right and the duty to oversee the affairs of this household. In other words, I will not allow this castle to remain in such a terrible state of disrepair.”

Without even bothering to cut his food, Benjamin simply picked it up and shoved it into his mouth.

The sound of the crispy bread echoed between them.

After only a few chews and swallows, he brushed the crumbs from his lips and said.

“I admit there may have been… a bit of a misunderstanding. I wasn’t remotely prepared to welcome someone new.”

The second course was a dish of wild mushrooms and assorted vegetables cooked in a cream made from water buffalo milk, served with a halved grilled lemon.

Benjamin took the lemon between two fingers and squeezed it.

He had only pressed lightly, but the lemon flattened out like parchment and spilled all its juice.

“Tell the workers you brought in to start on the annex. It’s much cleaner and more livable than the main house. If the young steward is needed, hire him. I’ll even see to it that you get a maid or two to accompany your little noblewoman act.”

He seemed to have a talent for speaking in such a calm tone that it could still cut like a blade.

“But that’s as far as it goes. I’ll say it again – life before and after marriage cannot be the same. Be content with what I allow and step back.”

Helena plunged her fork into the grilled lemon and pressed down with the flat of her knife.

A wave of hot, sweet and sour citrus hit her nose.

“This dish – isn’t it a bit tart? You really should ease up on the squeezing.”

She spoke with calm composure.

“I’m not trying to turn this castle into Winston’s estate in Hodlin, or the townhouse I lived in in the capital, Ellarion. I just want to make it a place where people can actually live.”

Tasting the cream sauce – just the right consistency – she continued.

“And I’ll give your words back to you exactly as they are, Benjamin Ishpern: life before and after marriage cannot be the same. Especially if that life is self-destructive. I have no intention of being dragged into it and becoming unhappy with you.”

The main course was a rare small bird, roasted whole – a delicacy from the south.

Helena frowned slightly.

“I told you I don’t eat fried food. I guess the message didn’t get through.”

In front of her, Benjamin tore the bird apart with his fingers, almost as if to provoke her.

Then, without hesitation, he stuffed it into his mouth, bones and all, and crunched it audibly.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and spoke in a threatening tone.

“Watch out.”

“Fried food makes you fat.”

“I’m not talking about the food, I’m telling you not to cross the line.”

He pointed a finger downwards – at the ruins of Ishpern Manor below, to be precise – his voice deep and threatening.

“You’ve seen what happens to things that get on my nerves. Don’t provoke me by blaming everything on me. The situation you’re in? It’s all your own fault. You ended up here because of those dirty rumours, didn’t you?”

The word rumours struck a nerve in Helena.

Her expression changed slightly.

A vein pulsed visibly on Helena’s forehead.

With precise, angry movements, she began to carve the bird in front of her.

“Don’t bring up these rumours. It ruins my mood. You’re the one who’s crossing the line.”

Her words came quickly, boiling with anger.

“Don’t mess with me. When I pretend to smile, that’s your cue to behave. You saw what happened to Crown Prince Rufus, didn’t you? I didn’t exactly plan it, but there’s not a single person who’s turned against me who sleeps well at night.”

At her words, Benjamin sank back into his chair, stretched out his legs and stared at her with a lopsided gaze.

There was no hint of amusement on his face – just the look of a man saying, “Go on, try it.”

His voice, deep and echoing as if from a cave, followed.

“Looks like dinner’s over. Is that all you had to say?”

“Over? Not even close…”

Just as she was about to say, “What do you mean, over?” Helena looked down at her plate – and shut her mouth.

To her surprise, the dish was completely clean.

‘I barely even tasted any of it, and now all I’ll get is the weight gain… ugh, that’s the worst.’

With a guilty conscience, she decided to skip dessert.

But there were still things she needed to say.

Helena spoke again, her voice carefully restrained.

“…What do you mean over? Dessert is still coming. You’re not going to leave me alone during our first real meal as a married couple, are you?”

Benjamin looked more than displeased – but he didn’t leave.

Dessert arrived: a large fig with cream cheese and candied chestnuts.

As it was placed on the table, Helena got to the point.

“I noticed that there are quite a few locked rooms in the castle, but no matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t find the keys. So… where are they?”

Benjamin replied without hesitation.

“I don’t know.”

“What? You… you don’t know?”

“This room is enough. Why bother opening the others? Just leave them alone.”

His indifferent, irresponsible reply left Helena speechless.

Between them, the wax candle had almost melted, its flickering flame weeping streams of hot wax like silent tears.

‘What… what kind of person says that? What was he thinking? Did it never occur to him that there might be something important behind those locked doors?’

With her eyes downcast, Helena began to cut the fig into very small pieces.

Part of her thought that maybe – just maybe – when she finished eating, Benjamin would disappear like he did last night.

‘Is he pretending not to know?’

The anger she’d barely managed to hold in began to bubble to the surface.

As she nearly crushed the fig with her fork, Helena suddenly frowned.

Her eyes stung.

Looking up, she saw a faint puff of smoke rise from the nearly burnt-out candle in the centre of the table and drift directly into her face.

‘Of course. Just my luck… Why is it always me?’

With an irritated huff, she blew the smoke across the table towards Benjamin.

Benjamin, who had already finished his dessert and was waiting for Helena to finish hers, jumped when the smoke reached him and frowned.

He looked at Helena.

She immediately pursed her lips as if nothing had happened – and just like that, the smoke drifted right back towards her.

Benjamin had never seen anything so petty and ridiculous in his life.

“What was that about? Why did you blow smoke at me?”

That was her breaking point.

Helena looked at him with indignant eyes and hissed.

“Because I felt like it, that’s why…!”

Crack.
(Emotionally. Possibly spiritually. Perhaps even cosmically.)

Crack.

As expected, a vein bulged on Benjamin’s otherwise calm forehead – he had clearly been holding back his temper.

“You said you felt like it? What does that mean?”

“It means nothing! I did it because I wanted to!”

“And why did you feel like it? I sat at your precious table, didn’t I? I listened to everything you had to say. How much more do I have to do to please you?”

“The keys – give me the keys!”

“I told you, I don’t know where they are!”

“How can you not know? You’re hiding them, aren’t you? If you are, I swear I won’t let go!”

“For the last time, I don’t. Know.”

“Well, not knowing is pathetic in itself, don’t you think?”

“Pathetic”?

Did you just call me pathetic?

“I called you pathetic because you are pathetic!”

“And who’s being pathetic now…!”

In the end, their conversation degenerated into a childish argument.