I thought I knew my world. The people in it, the secrets they held, their intentions. . .
Turns out I didn't have a clue.
They lie and deceive and manipulate you without you knowing. You let your guard down around the people you trust the most, only...
What I was doing? And why was I doing it? Roaming around the castle seeking out every nook and cranny looking for a girl that I didn't even know like damn search and rescue team. And for who? Mark, that's who. I'm not not worried for me, no, I was worried for Mark. Strictly speaking, he is a criminal, and Sean was hiding him from Nadia which means he was harboring a fugitive, so that is two people I have already killed due to my ignorance. . . Where was I going with this?
Perhaps I am just too good of a friend.
"Oh, Mark, you are going to be paying off your debt to me for a very long time," I commented as we entered the Buttery. It was a small and confined space filled with a plethora of barrels of beer and candles; it was the room under the Great Hall, neighboring the Wine Cellar and the Brewery. There was minimal, if any, spots for this girl-Caitlyn-to hide.
Mark groaned and gave an exaggerated eye roll. "Aren't my taxes enough?" he complained. "What else could you possibly want? A cow in exchange for your hand in marriage?"
"Is that how arranged marriages work in the villages nowadays?"
He shrugged. "Don't know. Probably?"
I let out a breath of laughter while picking a stray candle off of the floor. "So, this Caitlyn miss, have you known her long?"
"I knew her for a few months before Captain Rose captured us."
"Nadia is not that terrible once you get past her thorny exterior." Mark lifted his eyebrows and tilted his head in a way that sarcastically spoke 'sure'.
"I'm serious, you'll see." The room fell silent again. I cleared my throat and straightened up with a thoughtful smile. "Enlighten me about Caitlyn. It is a lovely name, so she must be a lovely young lady.
Mark glanced away for a moment before looking back with a smile. 'Dark would look like that if he ever smiled, Satan forbid'.
"Caitlyn, she's shy and very withdrawn. It takes a while for her to warm up to people, uh, especially royals." Together, we started to walk the stone stairs down to the Wine Cellar. Down. . . Down. . . Down. . .
"But even then, she doesn't say much. But when she's around people she likes, people she really cares for, she's quite the talker."
"Truly?"
"Definitely. And, she can be ruthless, but she cares about everyone, even the ones she hates, so you might just survive."
I put a hand to my chest. "Good, I was beginning to shake in my heels," I feigned. As we went deeper, it became darker with fewer torches on the walls of the very slim staircase, and I continued to listen in earnest curiosity as Mark continued on about his life outside of the castle-dungeon. I could imagine the gold and emerald fields of wheat and grass, and the happiness, for the most part, of the other villagers, but above all-the freedom! For Hell's sake, I have been outside of the castle walls once, and that was for politics? I never quite payed attention to those in lessons nor would I care nonetheless and-I am going on a tangent again.
Finally there was an opening and we are once again greeted by barrels filled with alcohol-wine. My personal drink of choice.
"Well," I started. "This room is larger than the Buttery. There is much room down here for one to stow away."
"Yeah. And about that, how do you know of so many of these places. I mean, you're royalty, you have no reason to to be here in the Wine Cellar, or the Buttery, or the Brewery, or the kitchen, or the pantry, or the secret passageway behind the pantry, how do you even-"
"I got around as a child." I thought for a brief moment. "And as for the secret passageway, I am short, small and compact. A bit like you, actually."
"Is that a short joke?" Before I could comment, a wine barrel In the farthest and darkest corner of the cellar jostled and tipped over, spilling the deep burgundy color of Merlot all over the wood floors. 'Oh, the Merlot, that was my favorite.' And behind the barrel, crouched like a frightened animal, a girl with deep green eyes and brown hair pulled to the side in a braid.
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(Ignore the goat.)
"Caitlyn?" Mark asked with slight surprise and relief.
With a slightly forced smile, and about as much surprise as him, as I turned on my heel to face Mark. "Caitlyn."
*Caitlyn's P.O.V.*
That girl. That Royal. I recognized that accent. Vorenian. And those glittering jewels that laced her arms and neck and that megawatt smile. Yes, she's the girl that often visited Mark in the dungeon. The Princess.
