6 - Mystery Man

Ailsa

I stealthily approach the dreaded door of my nightmares. I fiddle with the rusted key between my fingers, placing my flickering lantern at my feet. It reflects pretty, orange shapes all along the walls and ceiling high above.

It makes my shadow massive, somehow making me feel smaller than I already am.

Of course, this stunt seemed like a good idea earlier, but now I'm second-guessing everything. Even after all the trouble I went through to sneak into my father's quarters and found his hidden, backup key. There were several keys at the bottom of his drawer, but I knew choosing the one that looked the most neglected was my best bet. I can only rely on my confidence that it's the one.

I should be ecstatic, as excited as I was when I found the key and slipped it under my pillow.

But now, well now I'm standing in front of the big wooden door with my bottom lip between my teeth and contemplating tucking my tail and scampering off to bed. I'm suddenly remembering all the years I spent fearing this stupid dungeon and all its mysteries and rumors. When I was little the boys my age would tease me about how I couldn't even go near the entrance.

To be fair, I knew the long history of prisoners that had been locked up tight under our very feet. I thought if I passed the door a ghost would slip through the crack under the door and follow me to my room.

It didn't help that. My father encouraged my fears by telling me bedtime stories of horrendous wars. Hearing of the men slaughtered in our castle didn't exactly inspire sleep.

I shake my head at my own thoughts. I risked so much to be here. I snuck out of my bed in the middle of the night. I was half afraid that Gentry was sitting outside of my room with her ear pressed to the wall. Luckily for me, she wasn't.

She was likely too tired after I begged her to read me some chapters from the mountain of books that she brought me. Poor Gentry. I will have to find a way to repay her.

Unlike my retched father, my maid knows how to spin a story with her tongue so well that I nearly fell asleep. Instead, I had to fake it. I forced my eyes closed and tried to make my breath as even as possible.

She eventually stopped reading, walked over to my bedside, and kissed me on the forehead. After she blew out the candles and left, it was just a waiting game to make my escape.

I swallow my guilt over fooling my angel of a maid, and I finally stick the key in the lock. I was right. It immediately slides in. I picked the right key.

I click it to the left, and a tell-tale clank of it being unlocked. I glance around again, paranoid that someone will catch me. The hall is completely silent, void of any people at this late hour. No one is out past midnight. More than half of the men are off sleeping off their ale by now.

I know I can get myself into a lot of trouble doing this, but my father's cross is very important to him. I can see his eyes glimmering in approval the minute I hand over the necklace. There isn't a thing I wouldn't give up to have any hint of pride cross his face when he looks at me.

Smiling to myself, I swing the door open.

I slip the key into my apron pocket.

The door is heavy as I push it open, but I manage to get it out of the way quietly, plucking my oil lamp from the ground to light my way down the pitch-black staircase.

Cobblestone stairs lead into the chilly, abandoned dungeons. I gulp, taking my first step into the unknown.

I squint down at the steps each time I put a foot forward, scanning for the golden chain, but nothing shines back at me from the dim light. No glint, no sparkle, no cross. My brows furrow in concentration, and I nibble on my bottom lip. I use my hand to lean against the cold, stone walls.

I had heard the heavy piece of jewelry falling down the stairs a few scarce hours ago. It must be down here somewhere.

Taking another careful pace forward, I take a deep breath, concentrating on each inhale. I've never been down here before, never even heard of someone opening the door. I've done more than any other in the clan, and for good reason. It's forbidden, and creepy. My father would have my hide if he caught me skulking around in areas of the castle that are strictly off-limits.

I shake my head at my useless father. No one uses the dungeons. This is completely harmless.

No one will catch me, and it's essential I get his necklace back to him. I don't need another thing to make him upset.

I finally amble to the ground, the dark stairs hovering behind me. The floor beneath my wriggling toes is so cold it seeps through the soles of my shoes. Shivering, I tuck my elbows in and hold my oil lamp up, examining the path I took down here. I can't leave any spot unexplored.

I pause when I hear something shift down at the other end of the dungeons.

Freezing, my spine stiffens like a pole of ice. No one is down here. I must be hearing things. I'm so scared that my brain has conjured hallucinations, that's the only explanation.

I wait with straining ears, ready for another sound to reach me. When none comes, I continue forward gently, not wanting to make too much noise and antagonize the darkness. I scour each stone, wishing for a blinding shine to glint up at me.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Until I finally reach down and run my fingers on the bottom step. There, shoved in the corner, sits the heavy cross, its chain covered in dirt. It's so covered that I can't see the silver.

Sighing in relief, I bend down to my knees, plucking the necklace from the floor and stuffing it in my pocket, right alongside the stolen key that led me here.

"Stealing?" The gravel-filled voice makes me jump, losing my balance as I rock back until my butt hits the hard ground. Lost for balance, I slump over, nearly hitting my head on the walls made of solid rock.

"Who's there?" I demand, my voice breaking. I'm no longer afraid, no, I'm angry.

"That doesn't belong to you." The voice murmurs, a voice darker than the dungeon. Whoever the man is, he doesn't care for a change in subject.

I stand, my feet unsure and wobbly as I inch forward. I grapple for my oil lamp, holding it high as I creep closer. I pass numerous steel bars enclosing tiny cells that look as though they haven't been used in years, but looks can be deceiving.

"How do you know?" I press, stalking closer still.

"Because it belongs to your bastard of a Laird."

I stare into the darkness, squinting my eyes and still seeing nothing. The voice is coming from the last cell. I gulp, stopping as I contemplate going further now that I know where this stranger is.

"I suggest you get the hell out of here, lass. If you don't, I might be tempted to kill you."

The crass words, and the mention of killing, get caught in the air, choking me and sending a shiver down my spine. I nearly trip trying to back away. Fresh tears flood my eyes as the words register. Flashbacks of all the heinous remarks from my father, and from my clan, all come rushing back and I'm left reeling.

My body begins swaying, trying to stay rooted in the dust.

Who is this man? Why is he imprisoned here?

More importantly, why do his words cut so deep?

So many questions flood my mind as I grapple for my bearings, running in my haste to be rid of this prisoner. I nearly trip up the stairs while I flee. I stomp up toward the surface. I even slam the dungeon door shut, uncaring of who may hear it.

I have the smallest grain of sanity left that I use to lock the evil door behind me. I blink away a fog of tears, my hands shaking as I grapple with my lamp and crippling emotions.

Once I'm sure the door is locked, and the key and cross are safely tucked in my pocket, I rush back to bed.

It may be better to simply forget this night ever happened. I can erase that mystery man from my mind, I can leave him to rot. After all, he treated me awfully, so why would I care what happens to him? Why do I care?