SMACK.
A sharp slap landed across Livia's face, sending the maid tumbling onto the floor. Had there been even the slightest bit of mana left in the air, Hermi was certain she would have replaced the palm of her hand with a concussive air blast.
"How dare you speak to your Queen like that, Livia? I am very certain that earlier, His Majesty also made it clear in front of all of you that this fortress is now mine. Until my husband decides I am no longer his Queen, I am the master of this place, and you will treat me with the respect I deserve."
On the floor, Livia clutched her reddening cheek, her scornful gaze traveling up and down Hermi's petite frame with genuine shock. She clearly hadn't expected a woman who looked like a wilted orchid to have a spine made of iron.
"You won't last long in this place, Queen!" Livia shouted, scrambling to her feet. "Die and rot in hell with your tyrant husband! I'm done serving you insane monsters in this mad fortress!"
With that, Livia stormed out of the Queen's Chamber. She didn't forget to slam the door loudly enough for Hermi to hear.
Sighing, Hermi shed her dirtied gown and filled the bathtub. The water was freezing cold. Hermi would have gone out to ask another maid for heated water, but she was in no mood to deal with another Livia.
Clenching her teeth, Hermi stepped into the icy water. She submerged her head fully beneath the surface despite the biting cold. The Atmospheric Sickness still lingered. The little hope Hermi had harbored for this marriage seemed to have died along with the Silt Skulker.
What had gone wrong? Hermi tried to work her dizzied mind, finding no answer. She had come to Ferramonte with revenge in mind. Now, revenge felt as distant as the husband who had turned away from her.
When Hermi emerged from the water again, her body had gone so numb she could barely sense the dizziness anymore. "Perhaps I should thank Livia for being rude to me," Hermi muttered as she stepped out of the bathtub.
She dressed herself properly at last. The fine gowns her father had given her were nowhere near as glamorous as those she'd seen on Aurelia or Queen Constantia. But for a gloomy place like the Black Fortress, the gowns proved to be peak luxury.
All the way to the Dining Hall, Hermi didn't see Livia again. Enzo stood waiting at the door when Hermi arrived, his warm smile still in place.
Inside, Cassian was nowhere to be seen, and only one set of cutlery lay on the table.
"Is my husband not joining me for dinner?" Hermi asked, settling into her seat.
"His Majesty has informed me that he would dine with the Archivist," Enzo replied with regret. "He's told me to make sure you have your dinner without waiting for him, Your Majesty."
Surprise flashed on Hermi's face. "The Archivist?"
"The Archivist is responsible for preserving the history of Ferramonte."
"I know what an archivist does, Enzo. I've just never heard of a king dining with an archivist over his new queen."
Enzo's smile turned slightly awkward. "His Majesty and the Archivist share a special bond. If His Majesty is not out on raids, they often dine together."
Hermi's brow drew together in thought. A king being that close to such a modest role like an archivist was a bizarre breach of royal protocol.
"Enzo, tell me more about this Archivist," Hermi commanded.
"Archivist Nero oversees the Library and the mines, Your Majesty. If he isn't in the Library, then he's certainly at the mines. There are no other places you'll find him."
Hermi blinked, her mental gears stalling. "What kind of archivist oversees the mines?"
"Archivist Nero possesses vast knowledge of Ferramonte's geography and geology. He is also an expert on mineral veins and magic crystals. It is only natural that he supervises the mines."
From what Hermi had heard, Ferramonte kings were the ones who directly oversaw the mines. They were rumored to inherit Cassian I's ability to sense mineral veins. Now that Hermi learned from Enzo that a mere archivist was in charge, she couldn't help but feel baffled.
"If Archivist Nero oversees the mines, then what, exactly, does His Majesty do all day?"
"His Majesty focuses more on raids. The spoils taken from monsters compensate for what we cannot mine or grow on these lands."
"And how often does my husband go out on raids?"
"Every other day, if it isn't winter, Your Majesty. When the sky darkens sooner, monster activity becomes far more unpredictable."
As Enzo continued to entertain Hermi with his knowledge of Ferramonte, dinner was served. There was fine wine imported from Olyndros on the table, but Hermi reached for the water instead.
Though Marco had claimed the water from the Black Fortress was the only safe source in the entire kingdom, its sweet, mineral-heavy flavor felt wrong on her tongue. It only amplified the metallic tang that refused to leave her mouth.
For the appetizer, a soup was brought out. The mere sight of it was enough to stifle Hermi's appetite. The broth was a dull gray, with thin slices of meat floating within it. There were a few pieces of root vegetables she couldn't name.
Setting her spoon down, Hermi turned to Enzo. "Enzo, dismiss the maids, then come over here."
The maids left the Dining Hall with half-hearted bows. With only Enzo remaining in the room, Hermi brought up the incident in her chamber involving Livia.
The moment Hermi finished, the Castellan's face turned pale. "Your Majesty, please forgive my grave mistake. I shall reprimand Livia properly and assign a better-behaved maid to your chamber."
"Your mistake is forgiven, Enzo." Hermi nodded. "However, what I wish to discuss with you in private isn't about Livia. It's about my husband."
Enzo's voice dropped an octave. "His Majesty? What is it you wish to inquire about?"
Hermi gestured toward the seat beside hers. "Sit. This is going to be a long conversation, and I'd rather not give myself a neck cramp looking up at you."
Enzo recoiled as if the chair were made of hot coals. "Your Majesty, I cannot possibly sit at the same table as my master."
Hermi found herself oddly charmed by the refusal. While other servants performed their tasks out of mere duty, Enzo was the only one whose professional shine seemed genuine. He smiled as if he were serving in a summer palace rather than a windowless iron box.
"If you know that I am your master, Enzo," Hermi insisted, "then you should also know that if your master permits you to, you may sit at the same table as them."
Her words only seemed to ease half of Enzo's concern for propriety. Reluctantly, the Castellan settled into the chair. He looked as though he expected the floor to swallow him whole for his transgression.
Only then did a warm smile spread across Hermi's face. "Enzo, how long have you worked here?"
"I have served at the Black Fortress since I was fifteen, Your Majesty. That makes ten years."
"So you're twenty-five this year. If you've been here that long, you must have been acquainted with the two late queens."
"Indeed," Enzo confirmed. "I served them both."
"Then tell me, Enzo. What happened to them?"
According to what Hermi had heard, Ferramonte queens passed away within months of arriving at the Black Fortress. Though most accounts claimed they were abused by their tyrant husbands, none could confirm the true cause of their deaths.
Once a princess was married away, her life belonged to her husband. Not even the kings of the six realms could inquire after their daughter, and Ferramonte kings never allowed a single word to slip out.
But now that Hermi was a Ferramonte queen, she felt obliged to discover exactly what kind of ending awaited her at the end of this broken marriage. Cassian's perfect husband facade had faded away, and her Queen crown was shaky right from day one.
Faced with the Queen's direct question, Enzo hesitated. He fell into silence, as if weighing how much truth the new Queen could bear. At last, his head lowered, avoiding Hermi's scrutinizing gaze.
"The first Queen passed away from a severe illness. But the second Queen… it was an accident."
Hermi stiffened. "An accident?"
Enzo nodded solemnly. "His Majesty accidentally killed her while practicing swordsmanship in the courtyard."
For a long moment, Hermi did nothing but stare at the Castellan. Enzo stared back, his heavy silence confirming he wasn't fooling her.
"Prac... practicing?"
Enzo answered her only with a nod.
"In... in the courtyard?"
Again, Enzo nodded.
Hermi stopped asking. How could a husband possibly kill his wife by accident while practicing in the broad daylight of a courtyard?
Only after a long moment was she able to find her voice.
"Enzo, I need you to tell me everything you know about the late queens."