Kidnapping the Prince

Kidnapping the Prince Installment XX

Picture on the side is Chris Pine or Dan. Close enough?

Kidnapping the Prince Installment XX

I stared into the semi-darkness, my back turned to Dan, who was taking his shift guarding. So far I’d gotten about four hours of sleep interrupted by two hours of guarding seeing as we no longer had Lucas with us and Ryan was temporarily exempt from tasks that deprived him of rest. Such as standing (or, more correctly, sitting) guard. So in summation, I was exhausted.

Yet when I lay down to rest, I couldn’t sleep. My emotions and thoughts probably had more energy than a rubber ball that had been thrown from the top of the tallest tower by a man with the strength of a bull and bear combined. First, I would feel angry at myself for somehow managing to potentially fatally wound Ryan and losing Lucas, then I’d be worried about Lucas and how he was faring in the tunnels alone in the dark. Right after that I’d feel elated about the kiss Dan and I had shared just a few hours ago, but almost before that emotion had registered I would feel confused as to why he was so willing to forgive us. I couldn’t understand the extent of his goodness; if I were in his place, I’d be doing everything I could to either seriously injure my captors (although I’d been doing a good job of that for him) or kill them. Either would serve the purpose of escape.

In an attempt to calm myself down, I tried to synchronize my breathing with that of sleeping Ryan’s. Every time air whooshed softly through his nose and mouth, I breathed out with him, and when his lungs sucked air back in, I breathed in as well. A few minutes later of fierce concentration, I realized all the exercise was doing was annoying me with its tediousness and lack of dynamics, so I quit.

Sighing as quietly as I could, I rolled over onto my side in an effort to get comfortable (using the term loosely) but only succeeded in squishing my arm painfully against the stone floor. With a huff of annoyance, I moved onto my back again, still contemplating why Dan would choose to not hate us. Sure, we hadn’t treated him as badly as most stereotypical vile kidnappers would, but we did tie him up, and Ryan and Lucas both had their share of beating him up. So according to all rules of logic, he should hate us. But he didn’t. 

I turned my head slightly to my left, surreptitiously looking at Dan’s dark silhouette, trying my hardest to spontaneously develop the ability to read minds. Didn’t work, much to my disappointment. I tried to imagine words floating around in his head, and my imagination tried to piece together the words into coherent and logical sentences, but I couldn’t do it. I just didn’t understand him enough. Or maybe I just didn’t understand the thinking of someone who wasn’t a Third Quarter citizen.

“Lynx,” whispered Ryan’s voice from somewhere nearby. I sat up, slightly alarmed.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, trying to find Ryan just as Dan jumped to his feet and used the small candle he had to light a torch. The tunnel flared with light. My eyes found Ryan; he was lying on his side, propped up on one elbow.

“Well, it’s nothing, really,” Ryan said uncomfortably, not meeting my eyes. “I just . . . never mind.” He turned away from us and lay down again. I glanced at Dan, confused.

“What was that about?” he mouthed, brow furrowed slightly. I shrugged, too tired and worried about other things to be overly concerned with Ryan’s unsaid words.

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” I yawned. “Do you want me to take a shift?” I offered a minute later. It wasn’t like I would ever fall asleep anyway.

“No, go to sleep,” Dan waved me down. “You just had a turn twenty minutes ago.”

“But I can’t sleep,” I protested weakly.