Page 29 of A Steeping of Blood (Blood and Tea #2)
JIN
Jin thought Arthie’s plan was simple enough, but the heat made everything sound laborious: Track down a Horned Guard carriage, commandeer it, sneak through the fortress gates.
Still, he couldn’t complain, for it served as a grand distraction from Flick, and the deep-seated ache he felt from being so far from her.
He had vowed not to worry for her welfare, but that didn’t make it easy. She was capable, and she was armed, he told himself. She could handle whatever was thrown her way.
They stumbled down the hillside—he and Matteo did, anyway. Arthie navigated the brush like she had lived in it her entire life. Half was just as long, he supposed. As they neared, the township seemed to grow exponentially, spanning roughly a quarter of the size of White Roaring.
“I could probably pick the gate’s lock if we can’t find a carriage,” Jin said. He’d picked all sorts of locks. There was even that one time on Imperial Square where, long story short, a wealthy—for it was always the wealthy—lord had locked him in a cage in his bedroom.
“I’m sure we can ask the guards to hold on while you do,” Arthie said cheerily.
“Oh, how I missed your commentary, sister,” Jin replied.
“A tea shop!” Matteo said. It was more of a hut, really. And not even staffed by a Ceylani. He grimaced. “Truly puts Spindrift to shame, eh?”
As if conjured by his words, Jin could smell a perfectly brewed cup of Lady Slate with a raspberry streusel on the side. He ignored the flop in his stomach. He didn’t need a reminder of what he couldn’t consume anymore.
He spotted another shop tucked farther ahead. “Do they take duvin here, you think?”
“Unfortunately,” Arthie said dryly, her umbrella washing shadows over her like a gown.
He dragged them over to a peddler with fewer options than he would have hoped. “Good. I think I’m in need of a hat.”
“Are you?”
“I’d say the three of us marching with umbrellas is a tad too conspicuous, eh?”
Arthie pursed the side of her mouth in agreement, eyeing him as he tried on different kinds. “A bowler hat?”
“The boy can’t look in a mirror to know,” Matteo reminded her.
Jin paid the man and pulled the hat snug over his head, closing up his umbrella and testing out the sun. Not bad. “Someone who knows they look good in anything and nothing doesn’t need a mirror.”
Arthie followed suit, repositioning her baker boy hat and tugging on a pair of gloves. Matteo had neither a hat, gloves, nor enough buttons on his shirt, so under his umbrella he remained.
“Still no sign of a Horned Guard carriage,” Matteo said.
“There,” Arthie said, pointing to a trio of guards marching up the street. They were laughing, rifles nowhere to be seen. “No weapons; they’re off-duty. Not captains, though it’d be ideal if we found one so we’d have a better chance of finding something important. Follow them.”
“To?” Matteo asked, but Jin knew better and tailed Arthie as she rushed up the hill.
She came to a halt when they reached the paved road.
Jin didn’t know if she was reliving a memory or seething just then, but she blinked and the line of her brow smoothed as she tucked away her emotions yet again with a hand on Calibore.
They darted up the cobblestones to the edge of a newly built, still-vacant shop, and crouched beside the cover of the shrubs lining the side of it.
“To their haunt,” Arthie replied, nodding to the bright red pub. “And there’s our carriage.”
It was sitting across the street. The Ram’s sigil was emblazoned on the side, silver bright on the black covering.
“The guard’s inside the pub,” Arthie said.
“How do you know?” Matteo asked, and Jin was reminded that Matteo had never been on a job before. The Athereum infiltration, yes, but never a street job such as this.
“Because the carriage is parked in front of it,” Jin said. “And you can see a number of Horned Guard through the frosted glass.”
“As I said, it’s their haunt,” Arthie finished. “Let’s go. Matteo, you first. Jin, we’ll—”
“Oi, he’s already going,” Jin said before she could finish her instructions. He straightened, the two of them readying to run after him when the pub doors swung open, the jangle of the bells reminding him of Spindrift. “Well, and there’s your captain.”
Who began walking toward the carriage.
Matteo heard it too. He was already beside the carriage and rose on his toes, glancing over it and then back at them with growing panic. And instead of running away or acting like he was lost, Matteo Andoni opened the damned carriage door and snuck inside.
“No, you fool,” Arthie whispered beneath her breath as the carriage took off with a whinny from the horses.
With a growl, she shot to her feet and ran after it, still in the cover of the foliage lining the road. Jin crashed through beside her, scowling at the branches poking at him.
“He’s a painter, not a criminal,” Jin reminded her.
The carriage turned from their tiny road onto a larger, busier one, and the two of them wrenched to a halt.
“It’s—” Arthie stopped, aghast.
“ Busy ,” Jin said, stumbling after her. He hadn’t realized there would be this many people here. The traffic was bustling, carriages trundling in either direction, people calling out to one another. What had he expected? More than Ceylanis lived here now.
He hurried after Arthie, but they were losing ground, and fast. He glanced at her to say as much, only to find her scanning the street and eyeing a carriage up ahead.
He knew what she was about to do, and when he found himself attuned to her scheming, a part of Jin settled.
Like a coin that had been spinning without end and finally, finally came to a satisfying halt.
Right now, Arthie was going to requisition another carriage.
While it was in motion.
She ran into traffic, her trajectory curved, ignoring the shouts of the drivers behind them and the horses protesting the sudden yank of their reins. And then she leaped, Jin on her heels, the pair of them grabbing the handhold on either side of the carriage frame.
Jin placed a finger over his lips.
“What was that?” the carriage driver shouted. Jin and Arthie ducked as the curtain inside the carriage swept open and a woman’s face peered out, looking everywhere but straight below.
“What about her?” Jin hissed, but Arthie was already eyeing another carriage. Was she—
She was. She leaped for the next one without hesitation, almost missing the hold. One second too late and she would have tumbled to the street, trampled by the horses stomping ahead.
Vampire or not, that would hurt.
Jin clenched his jaw, readied his footing, and leaped after her, wind rushing through his hair and nearly stealing his hat.
He landed on the carriage’s foothold and nearly yanked open the door in the process before slowly sidestepping to the front, where a pair of men with rifles were having a heated conversation.
“Oi!” they yelled in unison.
“Sorry, lads, don’t mean to interrupt,” Jin said over the hot, roaring air. He hooked the end of his umbrella around the first man’s neck and threw him off. The man rolled off the street and leaped to his feet with a snarl the wind greedily snatched up. Jin almost felt sorry for the fellow.
But then he remembered he had no sympathy for colonizers.
The remaining man was frozen, unsure of what to do. His rifle leaned against his shoulder, the reins clutched in his hands.
“Let me help you with that,” Jin said, waiting until they neared a patch of grass before he yanked the reins from him and kicked him and his rifle off. The carriage teetered, the horses whinnying, as they trundled toward the carts parked on the side of the road. “Whoa now.”
Jin plopped down on the seat and steered them back to the road as Arthie climbed up beside him, her hair a tangled mess.
“The carriage,” she shouted over the wind. He followed her line of sight. The Horned Guard carriage carrying Matteo was turning up ahead. Jin spurred the horses faster, cutting off another carriage and then a smaller cart. “Get me closer.”
Jin caught up to the Horned Guard carriage, glancing over at the wild glaze in her eyes. “You’re not going to jump, Arthie.” Too late. “Arthie!”
She jumped, gripping the door handle. The curtain inside swept open, Matteo’s eyes widening when he saw Arthie hanging off the edge, the wind ruffling her clothes and her hair; it was a wonder it hadn’t snatched her away.
Jin kept one eye on the road and one eye on her as she carefully made her way to the captain at the front.
“Who are you?” he heard the captain sputter.
“Whatever you call a thief who steals from another one,” she said, and Jin watched her slam the butt of her pistol against the captain’s skull. He slumped forward. The reins fell from his hands and the horses stumbled, screaming without direction, excited at the chance of freedom.
Arthie pitched forward, grabbing the reins and regaining control at the last moment. Jin should have trusted her to do what needed to be done. He should have kept his eyes on the road.
And maybe then he wouldn’t have crashed.