At the doorway I faltered. It was pitch black like I had suddenly gone completely blind. He held the flickering candle closer to my face. “Can ye see?”

I shook my head.

He put his elbow in front of my chest and I wrapped my hands around it. I found myself alternating between wild panic trying to get my eyes to adjust, and staring at the tiny flickering flame of the candle, wishing it would actually light up the space.

“Can you see?” I asked.

“Och aye, tis quite dark, but I can see.” I gave up the struggle and just stared down at where my feet ought to be, concentrating on making out their form. I clutched Magnus’s arm as he led me down the dark hallway, down a winding staircase, down another equally dark hallway. This one though had a couple of torches burning along the wall, giving off a tiny bit of light. It helpfully added to our candle’s faint flicker a tiny bit. Our shadows spilled behind us.

We descended another stair and when we reached the floors below there was more ambient light. Torches lined the walls. The rooms opened up. There were windows, albeit small, lining one side. It was still faint and shadowy, but not outright terrifying.

We entered one long wide hall. Tapestries lined the right side; large paintings lined the left. Long drapes covered the windows. Woven rugs covered the floor. This room also had some furniture. Chairs and the occasional table stood at points along the passage. The ceilings swept very high. Each noise seemed amplified. Our footsteps echoed.

The entire place smelled of mold and dust but also fire and wax and herbs and flowers. It was a lovely smell, deep and rich. We passed a window, and I realized that it had begun to rain, dark, driving, wet and probably cold. But I was warm finally, grateful to be inside an eighteenth century castle.

Me. Inside an eighteenth century castle. And not as a tourist.

I held Magnus’s arm tighter. It was very quiet except for the rain’s staccato on the glass of the windows.

The long room held more decorations as we walked along it. The furniture and tapestries became more ornate. There were beautifully carved tables and chairs and many large paintings. We passed through one final doorway into a room that had paintings lining both walls, wallpaper, sculptures through the middle, and ornately carved cornices.

“Oooh,” I tried to make out the ceiling, there were more candles and torches, but still it was difficult to see beyond about ten feet.

“Tomorrow I’ll shew ye this room. Tis a beautiful collection. The Earl plans tae rebuild the whole castle in a newer style. He thinks this one is too brutish and cold.”

Halfway down the wall, two large doors stood ajar, and whatever was happening inside spilled out toward us — dancing firelight, loud jovial voices, and twanging music.

“I will have tae do and say some things tae the Earl— he is verra political, always slippery about his plans.”

“No worries, I can improv.”

He looked at me with his brow drawn.

“I mean, I’ll let you do the talking.”

“Och aye, and ye are ready tae meet some of my family?”