Lord Delapointe snarled to his guards. “You can take him to his cell now.”

And I knew it was time for me to act. I walked through the darkness toward where I had last heard Lord Delapointe’s voice and following my training, which had been to: One, swing first, using surprise as your element. And two, swing from low, near your hip, stepping forward to give your weak girl-arms momentum. And three, do it, Kaitlyn, do it, just do it already, Magnus is going to — I stepped forward and swung hard, up, fast, with all my strength, aiming right for the soft part on the neck just under Lord Delapointe’s chin.

I wished there might be a giant, cartoon, Kapow! noise, but no, my fist glanced off his jaw knocking him off guard but without much more damage than a scrape. But as he twisted toward me, outraged, yelling, I frantically swept my hands over the table beside us. I could barely see at all, but there was something, a thick, metal, what was it? A metal tower, pole, thing. I raised it over my shoulder like a softball bat and swung, hard, aiming for his head and producing an epic and disgusting sound — Thunk! Not as satisfying as a ‘kapow,’ but equally effective. He stumbled and fell to his knees grasping for my skirts.

I spun around — Magnus was in full battle with a guard with swords.

He yelled, “Run, Kaitlyn!”

I ran, stumbling over a fallen, probably dead, totally lifeless guard on my way to the door. Seeing nothing around me but black darkness. Hearing the yells and bellows and bloody curses of my husband fighting behind me.

I slammed through the door into a hall that was so fucking pitch black I wondered if I might have died back there. I glanced behind me. The room glowed compared to where I was now — complete and total blackness.

I put my hands out and rushed in the direction I believed we had come from earlier. I felt my way along walls, careful to watch my step on the uneven stone floor. Behind me, in the room down the hall, the fighting raged.

I found a small recessed area and pressed into it. I pawed through my bag for my iPhone, and turned on my flashlight. I peeked out of the recess, shining the light up and down the hall. I was still totally alone.

I swung the light about ten feet in front of me, checked my way, then hid it in my skirts while I ran a few steps. Then I checked again, repeating the process, check, rush, check, rush, until I found the top of stairs.

I raced down holding the wall. A few steps and I tripped, dropping my phone with a cracking sound — shitshitshit — the flashlight still worked — thankyouthankyouthankyou.

I reached the bottom floor and peered around the corner. It was another long hallway, torches lining the walls, but their light was shoddy and spotty. If I hustled from point to point, I could get to the doors at the end. But that was not where I wanted to go, the room beyond was well-lit.

I checked the opposite direction, darker — someone was coming.

Someone carrying a lantern along the passage.

I ducked into the stairwell and went as still as I could go. Quiet, don’t breathe, don’t breathe, don’t pass out.

A woman passed, carrying a tray of food toward the lit room at the opposite end.

She must have come from the kitchen. The kitchen would probably be busy, but also, perhaps, easy enough to sneak through.

The corridor was clear. I ran the length of it to a door and passed through to another skinnier stair and followed it down to where it opened into a bustling room.

Perhaps eight women, though it looked like it could hold a lot more, were cleaning, wiping down, wrapping up from the night. It must have been late. Across the entire room was a door to the outside. Hidden in the doorway, I fumbled with my iPhone trying to turn off the flashlight pushing the goddam button over and over, offoffoffmotherfuckingbuttonoff. Finally it went out.

I held up my hands and stepped from my hiding place. “Excuse me, excuse me. Pardon me, excuse me.” I hustled across the kitchen, holding my hands up, head-bowing, and excusing myself. “I’m sorry, excuse me, my apologies.” All the women stood surprised and staring.

I made it to the door, backed, bowing out of it, into an icy blast of freezing air.

Then I bolted through a garden, scaled a small fence, shoved open another door that led through a thick wall, and then it was fields, fields, and more fields. I turned on my flashlight, and ran, shining the light a foot in front of me, thanking god, the universe, and my self-control, that I hadn’t run down my iPhone’s battery on something stupid. I ran. My heart racing, my body shivering, my ragged breaths barely escaping my throat. Until I made it to the tree line. I was going to disappear there, into the woods, at probably close to midnight in the 18th century, Scotland. This was an insane plan.

When I turned back to look where I had come from, the moon illuminated the stone edifice and — crap, I was not on the right side of the castle.

I held onto a tree, bent over, and tried to get my breath under control.