"Why don't we do this instead," I murmured, casting a quick glance at Becca. "We could go in together. Let him decide which dish would go to his new pet." Perspiration began to bead on my forehead. It wasn't a far-fetched proposition, but I clung to a glimmer of hope that the Lords might be preoccupied with something, sparing us the weight of their attention.
Lord Fashire especially.
The notion eased my mind, yet I remained tense, unable to fully relax.
"That actually sounds like a good idea, Hiln." Becca straightened, relief flooding into her voice as she gave me a grateful look.
"No need to worry." Cyril's smile returned. "You have to attend to the other lords after him so I don't believe much will happen."
'Much.'
Of course, it was a normal thing to say. If Lord Fashire wasn't doing anything to us, he would undoubtedly be doing something to his pet. I only wished it wouldn't be in my presence.
Cyril gave us a curt nod and walked past us, her footsteps muffled by the carpeted floor of the arched hallway.
Becca and I pressed forward, turning corners and ascending steep slopes adjacent to the stairs, making our way to the upper floors. Finally, we halted before a grand set of double doors. Exquisite texts, engraved in radiant gold, adorned the wood, accompanied by intricate patterns that embellished the door's surface.
Were it not for our awareness of whose wing lay beyond these very doors, it would have been a pleasure to stand there and marvel at their splendour.
Becca stepped away from her cart and approached the doors. Leaning against one side, she exerted her weight and pushed forcefully. Initially, the door resisted, unyielding. Then, with a groan, it shifted forward, granting entry into Lord Fashire's wing of the castle.
Becca ushered her cart inside, and I followed closely behind. As she pushed the door closed, I remained still, absorbing the chilling, breathtaking sight that unfolded before us. The vast hall we now stood in lacked windows, but radiant chandeliers hung from the lofty ceiling, casting their luminance upon the space. Their light danced upon the polished black tiles of the floor, scattering speckled white dots across the light grey walls.
If only we could linger and take in the scenery a while longer.
The air was frigid, intensely cold. Were my hands free, I would have surely rubbed my arms to generate warmth. Shivers coursed through my body, and Becca trembled beside me. We doubled over, endeavouring to regain our composure before venturing through an arched entryway that led into another corridor. This time, it was shorter in length, with numerous doors lining both sides of the walls. Yet, it was impossible to ignore the imposing, colossal door that awaited us at the passage's end.
I suspected it to be Lord Fashire's bed chambers.
An eerie silence prevailed, and the temperature seemed to plummet even further. While his unique vampiric abilities were ice-related, this seemed excessive for a human. The vampiric effects of the potion were indeed working well, yet I still keenly felt the blast of icy air. Even Becca was affected by it.
As we drew closer to the gloomy entrance, my pace slowed. Becca seemed to falter, prompting me to summon the last vestiges of my courage. Raising my hand, I prepared to knock on the door when a deep voice interjected, freezing my hand mid-air.
"Come in."
His voice, smooth as silk, resonated within my chest like the languid beat of untamed drums. It felt as though the very air carried his voice, permeating everything within its reach.
"Ye—Yes, my Lord," I stammered, my voice a hoarse whisper. Tentatively, I reached for the door, intending to open it, when it swung open of its own accord. A gust of freezing wind slapped against me, and I stood rooted to the spot, fearful that any sudden movement would send the tray in my hands crashing to the ground.
Summoning my resolve, I ventured inside, taking my very first step into the lair of the most fearsome predator within these walls.
Initially, the chamber appeared dim, and it took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the surroundings. Gradually, I discerned the outlines of furniture, curtains drawn shut, and a silent Becca pushing her cart ahead of me. Darkness loomed beyond. Faint whimpering reached my ears, causing a pang of distress to echo within my chest. Becca continued to forge ahead, gradually approaching the edge of that shadowy abyss I was beginning to see through.
Wait.
Ahead of me?
Oh, no! How long had I been standing here?
My heart stopped in my chest.
Someone stood before me. In an instant, I had shifted my gaze from Becca's retreating figure to confront an unsettling presence that rooted me in place.
Lord Fashire stood right in front of me.
"Now, how long did you intend to dawdle there?" he growled, his voice sending icy chills cascading down my spine.