Chapter 2; Little Lamb

ARWYN

I release the powder puff, filling the room with pink smoke. I scoff at the color, wishing Raith— Pete's Artificer— had chosen something darker.

A smirk plays on my lips as the men cough and collapse, grasping their stomachs. The puff was laced with wildbane, a substance that weakens soldiers by slowing their heartbeats dangerously.

I hold my breath and lunge for the window, but it won't budge.

Cursing, I attack the window again, but it won't open. Frustrated, I give up and run for the smaller door.

Why won't this window open? There's no latch. In the smoke, I can't see the Tailoress or her men, but I hear them groaning in pain. Reaching the door, I slam my body against it, and it breaks open, hinges snapping as I fall to the floor. My arm throbs, but I get up and dash down the hallway.

"Stop her!" I hear the Tailoress scream, but how did she avoid the puff's effects? The men recover, snarling, ready to hunt me down.

I leap through an open window at the end of the hallway, grinning at the men behind me. "Try to keep up," I taunt before jumping into the busy streets below.

Lucky enough, a carriage was passing by, or I would've fallen face flat on the cobblestone. So much for looking cool. Although, a fall to the floor would be the least of the injuries I've earned in a lifetime. Once, I ran into a moving horse, got knocked out of the road, and left abandoned on the pedestal, but I crawled my way back home in time to heal my wound.

I'm a healer. One of the rarest Blessed in Vakythia. My mother was a healer, heaven rest her soul. I lunge for a stack of hay, fingers seeking the knives belted to my vest. I grab three and turn around, watching as the men jump out of the same window. By now, the fresh air should've knocked the bane off their systems.

"I'll get you, you little wench!" One of the men screams and charges across the street toward me. I throw a knife, it sticks straight into his right hand. He groans, knees hitting the floor as blood spills. "Wench!"

"Have at me, you oversized babies," I glint, my eyes running over the remaining two men. Time was slipping away. Pete had promised a cart waiting for me at the other end of Elm Street, ready to whisk me away from the clutches of the Tailoress if anything were to go south.

But I was relishing this chase. It had been a while. I could feel my heart pulsing fast against my chest, sweat lingering on my forehead and plastering some strands of hair to my face. I felt alive.

"Out of the way!" A carriage glided in front of me, the rider whipping harshly at the horses to hasten their pace. Using the carriage as a shield, I dart into a lone dark alleyway, rushing down the cobblestone as I hear crunching feet patter behind me. More of them were joining the pursuit, and I needed to escape the ground or they'd catch up.

Stopping in front of a tea shop, I grip the sign, my hand holding firmly to the metal rail before hurling my body upwards, swinging in momentum for a couple of times before letting go. I land on the roof, palms pressed to the roof-stone slab of the shop.

Beneath me, the frantic hustle of men echoed through the narrow streets, heads darting in all directions, oblivious to the shadows above. "Where did she go? Find her! The mistress needs those papers!"

Like a ghost, I glided across rooftops. Tonight unfolded in ways I hadn't anticipated, yet a secret part of me craved the exhilaration, the sweet taste of mischief that lingered in the air. Trades and missions were mundane without a dash of danger, a sprinkle of the unexpected.

As I jumped from one building to another, I thought about the trap door hidden in my home. The Tailoress's papers were tucked under Leigh's cupboard, a place she'd scold me for if she found out.

Even Pete doesn't know about the secret stash. He wanted me to find out about the Tailoress, but these papers are my own discovery, a hidden treasure.

These papers could be my way out of the slums, a ticket to Ilyndor, where my powers and Blessed heritage wouldn't be a problem. I've hidden my powers for too long, knowing they'd send me to Reedridge, the king's dull army of Blessed soldiers.

A loud snort broke the calm.

"There she is!"

No time for a break. Quickly, I threw three knives, but the men dodged them easily. Smart foes.

"Stop or regret it!" one of the lackeys shouted, a threat in his voice.

"You'll have to catch me!" I boldly declare, leaping from one rooftop to another. The gap seemed too wide, but I made it, landing awkwardly and earning a small gash.

"Ouch!" I cry, feeling the sting. I get up quickly, determination in my eyes, noticing some men on the rooftops too.

As the chase nears its end, with Elm Street winding down and buildings thinning out, adrenaline rushes through me. I need to reach the end without being seen. The sounds of pursuit push me to think fast.

Desperation sets in as I search for cover. I spot a brick chimney against a building and sprint towards it, urgency growing with each step.

I skid to a stop behind the chimney, dropping to my knees with a thud. Sweat drips down my forehead as I press against the cold brick, heart pounding.

Footsteps approached, signaling my pursuers drawing near. I held my breath, staying hidden, knowing any mistake could be disastrous.

Pressing my hands to my side, I felt something sticky - blood. Not from earlier, but fresh. One of the men had thrown a knife, grazing me in the chaos. The pain demanded attention. I needed water to heal.

As a healer, water was essential for recovery. Without it, healing slowed. I looked around for an escape, my fingers twisting my ring nervously.

With the path clear, I left the chimney, careful to not leave a trail of blood. At the end of Elm Street, as expected, a carriage waited. It wasn't just any cart; it was elegant, with an impatient horse and a focused driver. I approached, opening the door cautiously.

Pete sat inside, cloaked in darkness. "Well? Little lamb," he said, his voice echoing.

" She knows," I say, tired, as I enter the carriage.