“And where are ye from? Where is this place?” Elsy held out her arms, gesturing to the room around her. “Why have ye taken me?”
Brann shook his head, his attentions fastened to the floor.
“Tell me!”
Brann sighed. “I do not have the authority to tell ye.”
Elsy scowled, planting her hands on her hips. “If ye don’t, then who is yer master?”
Brann shook his head, slowly turning away. “Finish yer food,” he said with his back to her.
Elsy followed him. She wouldn’t allow him to leave without at least telling her why she was here. “Please, tell me,” she begged, her anger ebbing and replaced by fear. “I need to know why ye have captured me. What have I done? What is it that ye want from me?”
Brann paused, his hand on the door. “I will return for ye within the hour.”
With that, he was gone, the lock falling into place once more. Elsy stared at the door, feeling lost and alone. Slowly, she turned around. The tray of food still lingered on her bed with half eaten cheese and bread, but her stomach no longer stirred. She needed to use this time effectively. Anything could happen when Brann returned for her, and she didn’t know if she wanted to stay to find out what that anything might be.
With her needle gone, she needed to find another way of escape. She turned to the trunk, still surrounded with discarded garments from the night before. Once again, she searched their pockets, hoping she had missed something, but alas, they were empty. She searched the desk, throwing open the drawers, but only dust greeted her.
Elsy jiggled the last drawer, finding it stuck. As she wrenched it open, she stifled a scream at the small corpse of a dead mouse inside. She slammed it closed, bracing her body against it as if the mouse would suddenly rise from the dead. Leaning forward, she inhaled deeply, calming her pounding heart. There was nothing she could use to pick the lock. She would have to find another way out of this room.
Her gaze turned to the window. It was her only way of escape, but she was in a tower, too high up to jump. The room didn’t offer a rope. Her gaze shifted to the blankets in her bed, wondering if she could use them as a means to climb down. If she used the gowns as well, she could possibly make a rope long enough to jump from. She would need to ensure it could hold her weight, though.
Elsy seized the blankets and the dresses, making a small pile on her bed. Her fingers worked deftly, tying each piece of fabric together three times each. She tugged them tight, smiling brightly when they didn’t untie. Her hands quivered as she worked. She didn’t know how much longer she would have. Brann could return at any minute.
Once all the garments and blankets were tied together, she rushed toward the window, quickly opening it. Her gaze tentatively lowered, a rush of nausea claiming her as she stared at the distance between her and the ground. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat.
“I can do this,” she muttered to herself.
Slowly, she lowered the makeshift rope, watching it sway back and forth in the wind. It didn’t reach the ground at all, just about halfway down the tower. At that height, she could jump without peril. The landing would be tricky. She could injure her foot, but if she was able to make it to the forest before the brigands rose, she would be able to find some herbs to dull the pain and some sticks and leaves to wrap it.
“But I need to tie the rope to something,” she thought aloud.
Elsy pulled her makeshift rope inside, tossing it on the floor. Looking around at her room, she didn’t have much to tie the garments to. A small trunk, a chair, desk, and a bed. All were too far away from the window. The bed was the heaviest item, and so she grabbed its wooden frame, clenching her jaw as she attempted to drag it closer to the window. It hardly budged.
A knock thudded at the door. “Lady McCormick?” came Brann’s nervous voice. “Are ye dressed?”
“Nae, not yet!” Elsy shouted as she continued tugging the bed toward the window. It moved an inch, the wood scraping against the stone. She gasped as she released the frame, wiping the sweat from her brow.
“Do ye… need help?”
Elsy’s eyes widened as she quickly seized her makeshift rope, yanking the garments apart. “Nae, I’m fine! Be out in a moment!”
She heard Brann clearing his throat. Her fingers trembled as she seized a gown, any gown, knowing he would suspect something if she wasn’t wearing one of the garments he had provided her. She didn’t care what it might be, so long as he didn’t enter her chamber. Her hands fumbled with the garment, feeling the smoothness of the fabric as she pulled it over her frame. The dress was nearly a perfect fit. She was thankful the sleeves hid her trembling fingers. For a moment, she stared down at the green gown, admiring the intricate swirls.
“My lady,” Brann called while knocking at the door. “I’m entering.”
Elsy gasped, rushing toward the rest of the garments, and quickly kicking them under her bed. The door creaked as it opened and she ran toward it, grabbing the handle and throwing it open, using her body to block Brann’s entrance. She smiled brightly up at him, angling her body so he wouldn’t see the dresses under her bed. He looked over her shoulder, his brow tented in concern as if he noticed the bed wasn’t in the proper place.
“I’m ready,” Elsy said in an overly cheerful tone.
Her smile was genuine as she stared at Brann. There was hope. With her makeshift rope, she felt alive once more. She may have been captured in a dark fortress, but she would remain awake this night. And then she would make her escape.
