Kidnapping the Prince

Kidnapping the Prince Installment IV

Kidnapping the Prince Installment IV

Clink.

The cool metal of the lock and key bounced off of each other every time they landed back in my hand. I sighed, tossing them up again, fascinated by the bend of light on their smooth surfaces as they flew into the lone beam of sunlight that streamed into the small room.

I sighed loudly again as the lock landed in my palm.

“Would you quit that?” Ryan’s annoyed bark sounded from the darkest corner of the room next to his small cot. I caught the lock in my hand once more and curled my hand into a fist, trapping it inside. My brown eyes shifted across the room to rest on Ryan’s sulking figure.

“But I’m bored!” I whined, pushing myself off of the pile of quilts I’d stacked by the window. “It’s been two whole days!” I stood and began to pace the room impatiently. “Do you realize that this is the longest I’ve been in goddesses knows how long without stealing something? It’s killing me!” With that I threw myself facedown on my bed, which sat next to Ryan’s cot with only a foot in between. “I’m gonna die,” I mumbled sadly into the worn bedspread. Ryan almost laughed before the negative little git caught himself.

“It’s not that bad,” he countered stubbornly. I pushed myself up into a sitting position, my black hair flopping into my face.

“Well, it’s not bad for you, Mister I’m-just-gonna-sit-here-and-be-dead-all-day!” I brushed aside the stray locks with annoyance and crossed my arms with a huff. “But I need to be out there in the world!” I sighed dramatically, one hand clasped over my heart. “Not locked up in a little wooden room that could burn down at any given second!” I flopped onto my pillow again, burying my face with a muffled groan.

“You know,” Ryan said in an amused tone, “if you ever got thrown into the Locks, I think you would die of boredom before they ever executed you.” I turned my head so that my left eye was visible and shot him a glare. And, of course, the little twerp laughed at that.

“Really, Ryan?” I said as I sat up and crossed my arms again. “I crack about a million jokes a day and you only laugh when I glare at you? Sheesh, Dearie, I’m going to have to glare at you more.” I glared at him again and he fell over, clutching his side, laughing hysterically.

“I don’t get what is so funny,” I huffed, upset, as he continued to laugh. But, in accordance to my nature, I had to smile.

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“Glad to see you survived the week without resorting to murder, Lynn,” Marse mused when Ryan and I arrived at her home in the Maze five days later. By now I was in a very bad mood. The short trek from Ada’s tavern to the Maze hadn’t been enough to make up for seven days’ confinement. I ignored her, still annoyed, and threw myself down in my usual chair before her desk.

“Ow,” I muttered. I had thrown myself down way too forcefully, and Marse’s chairs were hard. Really hard. Ryan and Marse shared a laugh as they made their way to their respective seats.

“She did come close to killing me just for something to do a couple of days ago,” Ryan informed Marse. “Damn near almost slit my throat.”

“It was your own fault you let me have a knife,” I muttered amid Marse’s laughter. It was one of the only times I’d seen her let go of her professional persona. All too soon she became stony faced and serious again.

“See that chest?” She pointed to a large wooden trunk lined with thick leather straps. A shiny brass lock held it closed. “It holds all the tools and clothing you’ll need, as well as a gift for the king. The guards shouldn’t check you, but if they do you shouldn’t panic. There’s nothing in there that will cause suspicion.” I bent down in front of the lock on the chest and examined it.