'He knows. He knows. He knows.'
Panic clawed up my throat and my lungs refused to work.
"M…y…m…"
I tore my eyes from his and forced the words out, my voice barely above a whisper. "The… the food, my Lord."
"I see."
Without another word, he retreated, disappearing back into the dark recesses of the room.
"Carry on, then," his words trailed to meet me from where I stood.
'He didn't notice?'
My numb legs took hesitant steps forward.
As I slowly started to adjust to the dark, my eyes honed in on him. I stilled. Lord Fashire's frame lounged on a divan in a secluded corner, his gaze tracking my every move.
"Is there something wrong with your eyes?"
"I—I am very sorry, my Lord!" I said a little too loud before wincing at the high pitch of my voice.
I turned quickly, forcing myself to focus on the room. I had to get this done with and away from here. I should be more worried about his discovering my true identity than being concerned about his presence!
Muffled sobs drew my attention to another corner of the chamber and my heart sank.
A boy huddled there, no older than seven. Tear-streaked face, swollen eyes, and quaking shoulders. Mucus streamed down his nose and his quivering mouth was clamped shut. His new overalls hung loose on his small frame.
My eyes stung.
I moved towards him, but he shrank back with each step I took. To him, I was one of them. A monster. His eyes held no hatred. That was the worst part.
'How can he do this? This is a child!'
The air dripped with Lord Fashire's disdain. "It seems a certain mongrel isn't afraid of death."
My heart thundered as his chilling words echoed within the chamber. I jolted back to my senses and lowered the tray onto the low table beside the trembling boy.
'Get to work. Get to work!' I quickly told myself.
Distraction meant death.
I set the tray on the low table, arms aching, and lifted the metal lid to reveal four steaming dishes. I prepared to lower it to the boy's level, hoping he would choose whichever appealed to him most.
It was the only kindness I could offer.
"I do not like repeating myself, servant. Put that tray back. Give the boy a plate," his voice cut through the darkness.
"Yes, my Lord," my voice rasped and I hurried to obey. I chose the plate of whole chicken, still warm, and set the plate on the floor before the boy. He recoiled, whimpering.
The sluggishness had vanished. The potion was still working... for now.
"Eat," Lord Fashire's command cracked like a whip.
Both the boy and I flinched. And for a sudden moment, the driving force of his tone almost compelled me to eat too.
The boy lunged at the dish and tore into the chicken with feral hunger. Grease streaked his face and his tiny hands trembled as he devoured each mouthful of the soft meat. I clasped my hands together, stomach twisting as I watched the boy eat.
'This is wrong. So wrong.'
What did Lord Fashire want with a child? Vampires didn't keep children as pets. They couldn't provide enough blood.
The thought burned in my chest. I swallowed it down. There was nothing I could do.
I served him another plate, and he emptied it too. When I reached for the third, his eyes lifted briefly to mine. They were empty.
My stomach rolled and I looked away.
'Clean up. Just clean up and leave.'
The minutes passed in a blur, my body operating as my mind shut down. I had served him another plate and cleaned up the area.
All without looking at the boy.
Once I was done, I excused myself from Lord Fashire's chambers with a small bow, eager to escape the oppressive atmosphere.
His silence pressed heavier than words and his intense eyes never left me as I walked out of the chamber.
The doors closed behind me and a sudden burst of energy surged through my veins.
I ran, sprinting past the silent hallways, through the expansive hall, and out Lord Fashire's wing.
The doors shut behind me with a finality that made my knees give way. I collapsed to the floor, clutching the covered tray. My chest heaved as I gulped in mouthfuls of warm air.
A shadow fell over me.
"Becca?" I whispered.
"Hiln…" her voice trembled.
I soon noticed her fidgeting with her fingers. Her face was twisted with worry. "I was so scared, Hiln. What took you so long?"
I slowly placed the tray on the floor beside me. "I don't understand. What do you—"
"I have been waiting… for a long time now. I—I thought…" She sighed. Her eyes darted to her cart behind her before returning to me. "I was even starting to think something might have… happened to you."
I shook my head. "I am confused. What—"
A sudden realisation made the rest of my words die in my throat.
Her cart. Nearly all the plates were empty, and previously folded towels were now arranged at the bottom row of the cart. I slowly stood up, staring at it.
Just how long had I remained in his chambers?
"I… I…" I faced Becca. "I could have sworn, I wasn't in there for that long…"
It did not make sense for Becca to have served all the pets while I only served one.
"No… that's impossible," I murmured.
I was certain I hadn't wasted that much time standing idly by. He was already irritated enough. And the boy had eaten quickly.
"You know…" I touched Becca's arm, whispering more to myself than to her. "Let's not think too much of it. I am just… glad this is over."
Lord Fashire didn't detain me or interrogate me or hold me hostage.
So everything was fine.
Becca nodded quickly, almost too quickly. She tucked one of her blonde curls behind her ear and lifted my tray from the floor.
"Thank you," I murmured as she went to add it to her cart.
Becca looked at me and offered a faint smile.
Together, we left the Lords' wings. But no matter how much I tried to push my worries aside, I had a strange foreboding sensation that just wouldn't leave me.
Just how long had I spent in Lord Fashire's chamber?
Little did I know just how worse it would get the following day.
Becca had decided to serve Lord Fashire while I tended to the other Lords.
When she finally emerged, her face was drained of colour. She wouldn't speak of what happened, only shaking her head and rushing past me.
It wasn't until later—after I had taken her to her favourite pastry shop in the village, hoping cupcakes might ease whatever had shaken her—that she finally told me.
Lord Fashire had asked of me.
And he wanted me to serve him tonight.