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 seemed to falter. I summoned the last vestiges of my courage and opened my mouth to speak when a deep voice interjected.
"Come in."
His voice slid through the air, smooth as silk, yet foreboding. My breath clouded in the air. The very air that carried his voice.
"Ye—Yes, my Lord," I stammered.
Becca reached for the door when it swung open of its own accord. A gust of icy wind struck me. I stood frozen, terrified the tray would slip from my hands.
'MOVE!'
My legs moved, and just like that, I took my very first step into the lair of the most fearsome predator.
The chamber was dim. Then, furniture emerged slowly as my eyes adjusted. Curtains drawn shut, dark recesses, and Becca pushing her cart into the shadows ahead of me. A faint whimper reached me, and it tugged at my chest.
Becca continued forging ahead, gradually approaching the shadowy abyss I was beginning to see through.
Wait.
Becca was ahead of me.
Too far ahead.
'Oh, lords! How long have I been standing here?'
My heart plummeted to my feet.
Lord Fashire stood right before me.
"Now, how long did you intend to dawdle here?" His growl cut into me, cold enough to numb my bones.
The air thickened, and my lungs strained as he loomed closer, silver-grey eyes pinning me in place.
My skin prickled. Madness danced in those eyes, sharp and consuming.
'Run. Run!'
My lips trembled soundlessly. But I could not move. I could not do anything.
'Move! Please…'
His gaze dropped to the tray. A predatory smile curved his lips.
"You." His voice crept out, an undercurrent of menace.
I did not know how, but deep down, I had the distinct feeling that he wasn't addressing me.
"My Lord?" Becca's voice trembled.
"Take that cart somewhere else. This one here will perform her duties," he commanded, his eyes sliding back up to meet mine.
"Yes, my Lord." Becca rushed past us. The door slammed shut, leaving me alone with him.
Panic rose in my throat.
'I can't breathe…'
"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 into the dark recesses of the room.
"Carry on, then," his words trailed to meet me.
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?"
'No. No. No. Stop this!'
"I am very sorry, my Lord!" I said a little too loudly 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. 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. 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."