The Dark Sire Issue 1 (Fall 2019) | Page 32

“The elevensies tray. Leave it here. There’s a good boy.” Once I set the tray down, he held my hand, wrapping his whole hand around my little forearm. We were face to face now. “Indeed. I shall check on you anon, my lord,” I whispered. He let go. “No need, no need, lad. I’ll be in the library for most of the day. If need be, I’ll call for you.” His voice was dismissive as he turned to business. I took my cue. “As you wish, sir,” I said, backing up, trying to stare intently at the elaborate carvings in the four posters of the bed. I walked out, feelings his eyes as I closed the heavy door. Having attended first to my lord, I began arranging tea for my staff meeting, pouring a cup for each participant, and setting each with a small piece of scone in case they felt peckish. Shortly, Hilda, the youngest maid with a round face and red cheeks, arrived first, and, bless her heart, with some fresh milk. “Morning. A nice thing you’re doing here, what with the tea and all,” she said, pronouncing thing like fing. “I’m completely knackered.” “Thank you and good morning, Hilda. The milk is most appreciated. And I’m striving to do well. I’m sure I won’t please everyone, but our duty is first and foremost to our lord.” “Very stately of you.” 30