The Master
“Don’t be scared please,” he whispered, his
voice trembling slightly.
“Why would I be scared of you?” I asked.
He replied, “I’m not normal.”
I paused, wanting to stand up and open the
door myself. He sounded normal. He talked with respect. Surely he couldn’t be
that odd.
His foot scraped against the stone floor. “Can
I come in now?”
“If you want,” I answered, sitting straighter
in my chair. I quick glanced around to make sure my room was clean as he opened
the door, slowly pushing against it. He kept to the shadows, hesitant to enter.
“What’s your name?” I asked, trying to let
him know he was welcome. “All I hear Will call you is ‘the Master’.”
“How do you know I am the Master?” He sounded
more curious than surprised.
My mouth twitched into a half smile. “Will
said there were only you, me, and him in the whole castle. And you don’t sound
like Will.”
He stepped inside, keeping his head down so
his face was shadowed. His dark hair looked patchy, his scalp showing in some
places. His cheeks were raised as if he was smiling. He bowed slightly, his
clothes, covering every inch of him from neck to ankles and wrists, rustling. “Kendrew.
My name is Kendrew Wray.”
Silence fell then and I shifted. “Would you
like to come sit by the fire? It gets chilly in here at night.”
He shuffled forward, preferring his right leg
to his left. “Thank you.” He sat in a chair close to mine but kept his face
turned away. “I trust you are comfortable here, aside from the chill?”
“For the most part,” I replied, smoothing my
hands down my skirt.
He nodded absently, “May I call you Ichelle?”
I looked at him questioningly.
“I heard you and Will the first day you
arrived. I’m afraid he cannot speak so well, which is why he calls you
Ah-shell.”
“What am I to call you? Master?” I asked
warily. I was not going to call anyone ‘master’, not even if I was to be his
servant.
“No,” he said quickly, sounding horrified. “You
may call me Kendrew, as is my name. I should hope you will see me as an equal.”
Anger burned suddenly. “Then why did you
kidnap me?”
He looked sad now. “Would you rather be in
county jail? Or would you prefer to be here where it’s comfortable?”
“I want to know why it’s necessary I be kept
here.”
“For your own good. They were going to
sentence you to death. I said I’d handle you and it wasn’t necessary for them
to do that.”
“Why?” I demanded.
A sad smile appeared. “Will and I get lonely.
I figured we could benefit from having another person here.” There was
something he wasn’t telling me, I could tell, but I didn’t press the topic. If
the man wanted a convicted felon in his castle, that was his decision to make.
Upon that thought, pity blossomed within my
chest and I felt bad for him. Why did he isolate himself in his castle? And,
for the love of God, why wouldn’t he show me his face?
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