“Don’t rush me. I’m being as careful as I can.” I hissed, my fingers twisted in a complicated position as I fiddled with the lock pick.

The hairpin I used, wasn’t the most efficient for this purpose, especially when attempting to break out from a high-security castle prison. Luckily the meant to be skilled guards were drunk on that day, after celebrating the capture of the most wanted thief in the kingdom, the annoying little bugger stood next to me named Rowin. Not the most threatening of names, matched his non-threatening voice.

“Hurry up! I’m getting bored.” He yawned, inspecting his nails theatrically.

I grunted, gritting my teeth. He seemed to not understand the ‘be silent or well go straight to the gallows’ concept. “For a wanted thief, you sure do act like a small royal kid who didn’t get the right colour of diamond as a chew toy.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw him roll his eyes.

A click. The door unlocked and I carefully opened it with silent triumph.

We began to run. Up the stairs and through the millions of hallways that created the labyrinth they called a castle. The plan was to move through the servant’s door: not well guarded or large in any way.

He began to speak. Way too much. I had only met him yesterday, and he most likely said more words than a literary teacher.

“You know that was all me,” He said, slightly out of breath already. “I came up with the plan, and, I’m pretty sure your not a super cool, wanted thief who is really good at escaping-“

I cut him off, “Are you possessed?”

“What?”

“Why do you talk so much?” I growled, turning sharply when noticing about a dozen guards already on our tail.

“I like my voice.”

“I don’t. Shut up.” I spat flatly, pushing what seemed to be a royal tutor out of the way.

After crashing through many doors and turning thousand of corners, our legs began to ache unbearable. The guards were relentless. Our luck was running out, like the last drop of water in a drought.

Something metal glinted before me as I sprinted. I squinted.

Guards. Thirty, no, forty.

There was nowhere to go.

I slid to a halt, my ‘partner’ stumbling to my side. My breath caught, heartbeat quick, thundering in my rib cage.

A guard stepped forward, most likely a captain, muscular, scarred, not someone to be underestimated. “Nice try.” He snickered.

I hate the knowing look they gave me—the kind that said, “You’re clever, but not that clever.”

And I hate that they’re right.