My heart thundered as his chilling words echoed through the chamber and I snapped out of my reverie, setting the tray on the low table beside the trembling boy
'Get to work. Get to work!'
The mere act of placing the heavy tray down brought a mix of agony and relief to my aching arms. I still put them to work and pulled open the metal lid, revealing a tantalising assortment of four full dishes.
The aroma wafted up to my nostrils, but my dry mouth failed to salivate. It was impossible to find ease in the presence of this formidable Lord. The food on the ceramic plates still emitted warmth, and I gripped the tray tightly, preparing to lower it even further to the boy's level, hoping that—no matter how scared he was—he would choose the dish that appealed to him most.
Or even more, if he wanted.
It was the utmost kindness I could bear to offer.
"I particularly do not enjoy talking so much, servant. Put that tray back and give the boy a plate. Anything would suffice," Lord Fashire grumbled, the impatience in his voice evident.
I nodded, my head swimming with a mixture of fear and submission. I could barely think straight knowing he was watching me, and it was all my fault for being so careless. I carefully selected a plate filled with succulent whole chicken, fresh from the oven, and placed it on the floor in front of the boy. He recoiled further into his shell, whimpering softly.
"Eat," Lord Fashire commanded, his voice grim and commanding, as if chastising the boy for his hesitation.
Both the boy and I flinched at the forcefulness of his words, and the driving force of the Lord's tone almost compelled me to eat too.
Like a starving animal, the boy lunged at the dish, devouring the chicken with a voraciousness that left me dumbfounded. I clasped my hands together, my anxiety mounting as I watched the boy eat.
I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The whole thing was unsettling. I couldn't just stand there and do nothing, but I couldn't get myself killed, either. Still, my mind raced with questions. What did Lord Fashire want with a child? I had never witnessed him bringing in a child before, nor did any of the vampires in this castle keep children as pets. They couldn't provide the sustenance or amount of blood the vampires needed. Or was this some twisted depravity that he wanted to explore with an innocent child?
I struggled to maintain composure, to hold myself together. There was nothing I could do to change the situation. Nothing. So, I stood there, hating myself more than ever.
The minutes passed in a blur, my body operating on autopilot as my mind shut down. I served the boy another plate of food, ensuring he had enough strength. To my surprise, he finished that plate too, leaving nothing behind. After cleaning up the area where he had eaten, I excused myself from Lord Fashire's chambers with a small bow, eager to escape the oppressive atmosphere that surrounded him.
Though he remained silent, I could feel Lord Fashire's eyes on me as I walked out of the chamber. As soon as the doors closed behind me, a surge of adrenaline propelled me forward, and I ran. I sprinted past the silent hallway, past the expansive hall, and out of Lord Fashire's wing.
With a trembling hand, I closed the massive door behind me and my knees gave way. Clutching the covered tray to my chest, I collapsed to the floor and panted, overwhelmed and relieved at the slight warmth that sheltered me from the frozen den I had just escaped from.
As I let out a last string of exhausted breaths, I looked up to find Becca peering down at me, concern etched on her face.
"Becca?" I whispered, straightening my neck.
Why was she here?
"Oh." She straightened, fidgeting with her fingers. She looked worried. "I was a little scared, Hiln. What took you so long?"
"What do you mean?" Confusion furrowed my brow. What was she talking about? If anything, I was supposed to be the one waiting for her.
But her perplexed expression mirrored my own. "I've been waiting for a while now," she continued, her eyes darting toward the empty cart in the distance. "For a moment, I was worried something might have… happened."
I shook my head. "No. That's strange. I—" A sudden realisation made my words die in my throat.
I couldn't have stayed that long in Lord Fashire's chambers, could I? I was at a loss for words, grappling with the implications of such a revelation. Had he done something to me? And if so, what? I hadn't wasted that much time standing idly by either; he was already irritated enough. Any further delay on my part could have resulted in severe punishment.
I doubted that Lord Fashire had any knowledge of the potion. If he did, I may not have lived to exit his chambers.
"You know…" I whispered, more to myself than to Becca. "Maybe we shouldn't think much of it. I'm just glad this is over."
Becca nodded sharply, her expression relieved. She then extended a helping hand to lift me from the floor.
"Thank you," I said, and she nodded at me with a relieved smile.
Together, we left the oppressive confines of the Lords' wings. But no matter how much I engaged in small talk to push aside my worries, I had a strange foreboding that just wouldn't leave me.
Because how could I have remained in Lord Fashire's chamber throughout the time Becca tended to almost every single pet of the other Lords?