I drew in a deep breath and straightened at the sudden shift in the air. The atmosphere within the Lords' wing pressed down like stone. Every inhale was heavy and stifling. My throat scraped dry and my tongue shrivelled up in my mouth.
Our footsteps echoed loud and sharp against the polished floor. Hallowed halls stretched out endlessly before us, and we did our best to move cautiously. No one had to say anything.
We knew.
Our breaths, heartbeat… everything could be detected by them.
I had never felt so exposed in my entire life.
'Do not look into the Lords' eyes.'
'Keep your head down. Breathe, and move.'
'Simple.'
Becca caught my eye and nodded. Her earlier spark had died, and her skin a shade paler than before.
Every servant except Matadre was afraid of the Lords… even though some of those servants were already used to working around them.
This was my first time ever venturing into their private quarters, so Becca led the way to the dining hall with practised steps. She had been here before while running a few errands.
A figure appeared from a corner and my shock was shortlived when I recognised Cyril. A soft-spoken woman who was Lord Daniels pet. She paused, the dark circles under her eyes accentuated her weary smile.
Guilt grabbed me by the throat and I lowered my gaze.
It was painful seeing a fellow human suffer like this. Lord Daniels wasn't exactly caring, and he was not cruel either. While the neglect of a Lord can be a blessing most times, it wasn't a pleasant prospect when you suddenly got their full attention.
'Honestly, at this point… anyone is better than Lord Fashire.'
Cyril's low and throaty whisper reached our ears, "The Lords. They await you in their chambers."
My chest locked tight.
"Their chambers?" I repeated hoarsely, looking at her.
Cyril nodded, her long black hair swaying with the motion. "I apologize for the short notice. Was just on my way to the kitchens to let you know." She clasped her hands at her stomach. "The Lords have retired to their rooms after a long day. It would be convenient for everyone to be served privately while they rest."
"Oh." Becca breathed, putting on a faint smile. "That… that's okay."
'No, it isn't!' I side-eyed her.
At the dinner table, the Lords could talk to one another and ignore us.
But us serving them alone in their rooms was a nightmare come to life.
"It would be best to attend to the new arrivals first," Cyril stated.
Dread settled over me like a suffocating shroud. This meant we would have to face Lord Fashire first. Someone who possessed neither the patience to wait nor the temperament to tolerate us attending to anyone else before him. And he would know if we did.
I caught Cyril staring at me. She averted her eyes.
The woman didn't have to say a word for us to know we had to serve Lord Fashire before the others.
Becca's voice tinged with forced optimism as she turned to me. "It's alright, Hiln. I'll take the cart to Lord Fashire's chambers first. You can head over to Lady Gremlin's—"
"No."
I kept shut right after. The word had come out before I could think.
I shook my head and steadied my breathing. "Wait."
I wanted to agree with Becca, but my conscience wouldn't let me. She was scared. We were both scared. And neither of us would like doing this alone.
"We can go together," I added.
'Coward.'
"I have never served food before, especially not with the Lords present. There would be less likelihood of any mistake if we carried this out together," I added, letting my words sink in.
"That honestly makes sense." Becca straightened, some of the colour returning to her face.
Her smile widened. Grateful.
Cyril gently smiled. "That is true. There should be no need to worry… You have to attend to the other Lords after him. 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 while we were in his room.
Cyril gave us a curt nod and slipped away while Becca and I moved on to the upper floors.
Sometime later, we stood before a grand set of double doors. Gold-etched texts and patterns embellished the dark wood, and its imposing presence served as a point of no return.
Becca stepped away from her cart and approached the doors. She pressed her weight against one and pushed.
The door resisted at first before it then broke the silence with a heavy groan and opened before us.
This was it.
Lord Fashire's wing of the castle.
Becca ushered her cart inside, and I followed closely. As she pushed the door shut, I froze, shocked by the chilling beauty of the vast hall. Radiant chandeliers hung from a lofty ceiling, scattering faint light across polished black tiles and pale grey walls.
The air was bitterly cold. Shivers rippled through me, and Becca trembled too. We nearly doubled over, struggling to regain our composure before venturing through an arched entryway that led into another corridor lined with doors. At the passage's end, loomed one far larger than the rest.
Lord Fashire's bed chamber.
Silence pressed in and the temperature plunged further with every step we took. My pace slowed. Becca's seemed to falter. I summoned the last vestiges of my courage and open my mouth to speak when a deep voice from within interjected.
"Come in."
His voice slid through the air, smooth as silk, yet foreboding. My breath clouded before me.
"Ye—Yes, my Lord," I stammered.
Becca was reaching for the door to push it when it swung open on its own. A gust of icy wind struck me. I stood frozen, terrified the tray would slip from my hands and clash to the floor.
'MOVE!'
My legs moved, and just like that, I took my very first step into the lair of the most fearsome predator.