Page 32 of A Steeping of Blood (Blood and Tea #2)

ARTHIE

Arthie steered the Horned Guard carriage to the side of the road, and when the infernal horses came to a stop, she yanked on the brake and leaped off the side. Matteo opened the carriage door, staring as she ran in the direction they’d come.

Toward the midday Ceylani traffic. Toward where Jin had gone and crashed a carriage of his own.

“Apprehend the captain,” she shouted back at Matteo without breaking stride.

“With what?” he asked.

“It’s a guard car, Matteo! Check the trunk, find some rope. Get creative.”

She had a fool of a brother to save. She rushed down the grass to where Jin had crashed, fear compounding at the throng of people gathered around the wreckage up ahead.

A simple crash wouldn’t hurt him, but a crashed carriage provided plenty of sharpened stakes she didn’t want to worry about just now.

As she approached, she heard words of alarm, whispers, murmurs.

In Ceylani.

She saw brown faces. She saw saris, batik dresses, sarongs.

She saw hair as dark as hers had been before she’d dyed it mauve.

And in between each Ceylani, she saw Ettenians, two or three to every one.

There were more of them than there were of the people to whom the country belonged.

Arthie wanted to stop it, change it, fix it.

She shook the ringing from her ears and dove into the crowd, pushing through until she stumbled to the ruined carriage.

Its undyed covering fluttered in the humid breeze.

Arthie’s heart clamored to her throat, but at last the rubble shifted and Jin rose, unscathed except for the dust he was brushing off with a frown.

He was holding the warped carriage door over his head to shade against the sun and tossed it away as he dropped to his knees.

Fear clenched Arthie in a vise, but no more than a second later, Jin rose to his feet again.

“Found my hat!” he shouted, waving it in the air and meeting her eyes across the fray.

The crowd cheered. Arthie sighed.

He hopped over the wreckage, and the two of them squeezed back through the crowd, Jin tossing “thank yous” and “oh, it was nothing” as he strode through them like some sort of hero. Arthie all but dragged him out before someone could call him back for questioning.

“You’re looking chipper,” he said when they were alone.

Arthie paused beside a stone wall erected by a house. “Next time you might be dead, I’ll plaster on a grin.”

“I was never in any danger. I’m a vampire now, remember?”

“You’re immortal, not unkillable,” Arthie reminded him. “Now come on.”

Imitating her seriousness under his breath, he followed her to the Horned Guard carriage where, in the shadows of a few teetering coconut trees, Matteo was making good work of binding the still-unconscious captain’s wrists behind his back. There was a strip of rope knotted around his mouth too.

“I didn’t mean this creative,” Arthie said. “Can he even breathe?”

Matteo frowned. “I was being careful! I think he can breathe.”

“Nope,” Jin said with a shake of his head, while polishing the handle of his umbrella to a shine.

Matteo loosened the knot by a smidge. “Better?”

“Perfect.” Arthie glanced back at the carriage and then at the captain. “Now undress him.”

“Darling, when I’m right here?” Matteo asked, eyes wide.

Arthie glared, surprised by the heat that flared in her cheeks. The smell of the coconuts didn’t help, goading her to let down her guard and relax.

“One of us is going to need to pose like a guard if we’re going to get inside,” she said.

“That would be you,” Jin said to him.

“Me?” Matteo asked with a pout.

“Neither of us is a peaky, and Arthie’s too short.”

“That last part wasn’t necessary,” she said, but warmed at his teasing.

With a dramatic sigh, Matteo crouched and untied the guard to peel off his shirt with Jin’s help before moving to the trousers.

Jin riffled through the shirt pockets, pulling out a set of skeleton keys, a pair of calling cards, a miniature portrait of what appeared to be the man’s son, and then a folded note.

Matteo took the shirt and buttoned it over his clothes, following with the trousers. “How do I look?”

Dashing , Arthie was about to say before she paused when the light dappling through the trees shone on the sigil embroidered on his shirt. It reminded her of another Horned Guard captain’s uniform, more Arawiyan than Ettenian, but the same rich shade of gray-white.

“Oh, she’s speechless. It’s all right; I have that effect on people.”

Arthie sniffed. “I was only keeping quiet for your sake, really.”

His grin drew a dimple in his cheek. “Don’t limit yourself on my account, darling.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but Jin croaked. It was a wretched, terrible sound that anyone else might have overlooked, but not Arthie. Every inch of her came alert. She whirled, hand on Calibore, to find Jin was quite safe.

But he had unfolded the parchment from the captain’s pocket.

“They’re alive,” he whispered. “This is my father’s handwriting.”

But something was wrong.

“And? What is it?” She snatched it from him, scanning the neat, slanted script. It was a list of tasks for the Horned Guard captain, but Arthie paused at the bottom.

To be added to Bloodworth’s report: Despite numerous attempts, patients refuse to cooperate. More corpus required to continue our efforts. The Ram would be pleased to hear we are making progress on Rippers, as intended. Send our regards.

Sincerely, S. Siwang

Arthie met Jin’s eyes. Beside her, Matteo read more corpus required aloud and choked.

“They work for her,” Jin whispered, but he sounded as though a part of him had expected this.

Arthie wished she was surprised. For his sake, she had held out a sliver of hope that they could have been blackmailed, or biding time, or—Arthie didn’t know.

“You’ve only ever looked for confirmation,” she said softly.

He’d been fighting for the opposite outwardly, but she had seen the resignation in his eyes whenever he spoke of his parents.

For he himself had changed, undeniably, thoroughly .

“This changes nothing, right? Our plan remains the same. Jin, look at me.”

He dropped the letter and crushed it under his foot before finally looking up at her. “Right.”

“Now get in the carriage,” Arthie said, staring at the fort looming ahead.

If they could infiltrate the Athereum when it was a den of elite vampires poised to kill, they could handle whatever these outside-of-their-element peakies threw at them too.

This was her country, after all, even if it didn’t feel like it just then.