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, stifling. My throat scraped dry and my tongue shrivelled up in my mouth.
Our footsteps echoed. Too loud and too sharp. Hallowed halls stretched out endlessly before us, and we moved cautiously. No one had to say anything.
We knew.
Our breaths, heartbeat… everything can be detected by them.
Each sound felt like it belonged to someone else, someone being hunted. I had never felt so exposed in my entire life.
The very air we breathed in felt like an extension of the Lords' themselves. A potent mixture of power and otherworldly allure. My tremor was gone. In its place, panic remained. It crawled underneath my skin like raging centipedes.
'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, her skin a shade paler than before. It did feel nice that I wasn't alone in this. I would have shattered.
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 here, so Becca led the way to the dining hall with practised steps. She had been here before while running a few errands.
But why the dining hall? My eyes dropped to our trays. Too much food for just two people.
Unless this was for all the other pets too?
My stomach churned. If all this food were for every pet, that meant all the Lords would be in the same room with them.
'Oh, no…'
"Becca?" I whispered under my breath.
'Please hear me. I can barely even hear myself.'
She faintly smiled. "Hiln. Don't worry. We're—"
A figure appeared from a corner. I stilled. My shock was shortlived when I recognised Cyril. Lord Daniels pet and a soft-spoken woman. She paused, the dark circles marring 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. He was not cruel either. The neglect of a Lord can be a blessing most times. But 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 there."
"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…
"It would be best to attend to the new arrivals first," Cyril stated.
Dread settled over me like a suffocating shroud. We were facing 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 first.
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 swallowed, 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 in our presence.
Cyril gave us a curt nod and slipped away, her footsteps fading too quickly down the carpeted floor of the arched hallway.
Becca and I moved on to the upper floors until we stood before a grand set of double doors. Gold-etched texts and patterns embellished the dark wood, its imposing presence serving 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, unyielding.
Then, with a heavy groan that shook the silence, it moved.
'This was it. His wing of the castle.'