Aroha did not wait for agreement.
The moment the idea solidified in her mind, she acted. She kicked off from where she stood and bolted down the street, boots striking stone with sharp urgency. If they were going to do this, she was not about to stand around and debate the details. She would secure a horse first. Head start or not, she trusted herself to make it count.
Borrowing, she told herself. Nothing more.
It was not stealing if you intended to return what you took.
Guards shouted behind her, but she did not look back. The capital unfolded in rushing fragments as she ran. Sunlight flashed against armour. Voices rose in confusion. Somewhere behind her, Zhiyi laughed, bright and reckless, already committing to the madness with her whole heart.
While Aroha moved with precision and intent, Zhiyi moved with speed.
She spotted a lone guard standing near a water trough, his attention half focused on the street ahead, half on the idle horse at his side. Before he could register danger, Zhiyi grabbed the reins and vaulted onto the saddle in one smooth motion. The horse startled, muscles tensing beneath her, but she leaned forward instinctively, whispering calming nonsense as she urged it forward.
"Sorry, I just need this for a few minutes," she called over her shoulder.
The guard shouted. Loudly.
That was enough.
Suddenly, the street exploded with motion. Guards turned. Boots scraped. Orders were barked. What had begun as mischief snapped into pursuit in the blink of an eye.
Zhiyi did not slow.
She kicked the horse into a gallop, purple hair streaming behind her like a banner of defiance. It was absurd. It was thrilling. And it was incredibly stupid. No one in the capital would dare steal a guard's horse in broad daylight.
Which was exactly why she did it.
The reaction was immediate. Several guards broke into a run. Others mounted their horses. Attention shifted sharply toward Zhiyi, and that chaos worked in Aroha's favour. While eyes followed the loud and obvious thief, Aroha slipped through the edges of the disorder, scanning for opportunity.
She found it near a narrow alley where two horses were tethered loosely, their riders distracted by the commotion ahead. Aroha did not hesitate. She cut toward them, untied the reins, and swung herself onto the nearest mount with practised ease.
The horse snorted but obeyed. She kicked off just as a guard noticed her movement and shouted. Too late. Now both sisters were mounted, racing through the capital in opposite arcs before converging instinctively toward the same main road. Zhiyi had the earlier start. She was already pushing her horse hard, wind tearing laughter from her throat.
But Aroha was better. She always was. Her posture was perfect. Her grip is steady. She guided the horse rather than fought it, leaning into turns, reading the terrain ahead with sharp focus. In moments, she closed the distance between them, her horse gaining ground with every powerful stride.
Zhiyi glanced back and groaned. "You have got to be kidding me."
Aroha smirked.
The guards were still chasing them, but the sisters paid them no mind. The pursuit faded into background noise as instinct took over. It became a race again. Just them, the road, and the thunder of hooves striking stone.
They took turns too sharply. Missed streets. Doubled back when alleys ended abruptly. The capital was unfamiliar, and it punished mistakes quickly. But they were skilled enough to recover, weaving through the city with daring precision.
People spilled out of shops and homes as the spectacle tore past them. Some shouted in outrage. Others laughed. A few simply stared in awe as two young women galloped through the streets with guards struggling to keep pace.
It was chaos. It was glorious. They passed their intended goal without even noticing. Neither of them was willing to slow first. The guards were too close now. Too committed. They could stop and explain. They could dismount, announce who they were, and let their names do the work. The Renoff name still carried weight.
But after what had happened at the Healers' Nest, neither of them trusted the situation to remain civil long enough for explanations. Zhiyi pushed regret aside before it could settle. The wind roared in her ears, cool and clean, washing over her thoughts. For once, she was not thinking about expectations or consequences. She was just riding.
Aroha was grinning now. A real grin. Sharp and bright and alive. She had won the race, but that hardly mattered anymore. What mattered was the rush. The danger. The thrill of being chased. This was different from Juza. This felt real. They needed to lose the horses.
The decision came without words. A glance. A shift in posture. They veered toward the market district where crowds thickened, and movement slowed. The streets narrowed. People pressed together beneath hanging fabrics and wooden stalls.
They rode hard until the last possible moment, then pulled up abruptly, slipping from their saddles and releasing the reins. The horses bolted forward instinctively, vanishing into the crowd. Aroha and Zhiyi ran. They did not look back.
The guards followed the horses at first, then realised their mistake. Shouting resumed. They abandoned the mounts and charged after the girls on foot, pushing through the market with growing frustration.
But the crowd was dense, and chasing two agile girls through it was a losing battle. Some guards slowed. Others stopped entirely. It was too risky. The girls looked like purebloods. If they were wrong and handled them roughly, the punishment could be severe. Jobs lost at best. Heads at worst.
One by one, the guards fell back. All except one. He pushed forward with stubborn determination, eyes locked on the flashes of movement ahead. He hated the Renoffs. Hated their arrogance. Hated how untouchable they were. He had been humiliated before by their family. By men. By children. This was his chance. They looked like purebloods, but he had never seen their faces. That was enough doubt to act on. Thieves. Impostors. He would arrest them and sort out the truth later.
But the girls were good. Too good. They ducked and turned, slipping through stalls and disappearing behind hanging cloth. They split briefly, then reunited, always staying just out of reach. Still, they could not remain in the open. They needed shelter. They needed someone willing to help. Their options were few. Most people despised the Renoffs almost as much as they feared the guards. And perhaps they had earned that resentment.
Then Aroha spotted it. A small blacksmith shop tucked between larger buildings, its entrance dark and unassuming. Smoke drifted from within, and the steady ring of hammer against metal cut through the market noise. They did not hesitate. They slipped inside, breathless and flushed, hearts pounding. The blacksmith barely looked up.
He was young, about their age, with arms marked by burns and calluses. Sweat clung to his brow as he worked, completely absorbed. The heat inside the shop was intense, heavy with smoke and iron. For a moment, he ignored them entirely. Then the guard's voice rose outside, sharp and furious. The blacksmith paused. His gaze lifted slowly. Two girls stood in his shop, clearly running from something.
"Please," Zhiyi said quickly. "Could you let us stay here until the guards leave?"
She spoke before Aroha could. That was intentional. Aroha had a habit of saying the wrong thing when irritated.
The blacksmith stared at them. Then his face hardened.
"I hate the guards," he said slowly. "But I hate the Renoffs even more."
He pointed toward the door.
"Get out of my shack this instant."