Tethered Page 9
“In the stateroom, recovering. He’s still unconscious.”
“Unconscious?” His brows rose. “How badly unconscious?”
“I broke his jaw. That put him out. Then I infected him with Anisa Stoker’s blood. He’s full of opium now. It ought to keep him down for another day.”
“And the device?”
Heaviness settled in her gut. “I didn’t find it.”
“And you can’t risk the crew looking for it.”
So he’d already realized the threat to her position. She’d planned to keep that knowledge from him, but he understood her ship too well now. “I’ll ask Vashon and Longcock to search for it, but to treat the search as an inspection. Anyone whose station or storeroom is out of order will receive scullery duties.”
Archimedes nodded, but didn’t appear hopeful. “It won’t be anywhere obvious.”
“No. But there are only so many places to hide it.”
“And if we don’t find it?”
“Then we fly to New Eden.”
“No.” He pulled away from her, stood. “You won’t risk your freedom and your ship for—”
“Don’t think to give me orders, Mr. Fox.”
Though softly said, she meant it. He knew it.
His mouth flattened. Frustration glittered in his eyes, a bit of anger—and something more. Fear? “How do you like it, Yasmeen, knowing that I’m your soft spot? That I’m your exposed belly, and that my friend is holding a knife to it?”
“Truthfully? I don’t like it at all.”
He froze. It was a long moment before he spoke again, his face rigid and voice hoarse. “Do you regret me?”
“Never.” It was a vow. Her gaze didn’t waver from his. “But I hate that I don’t know how to protect you, except by giving in to his demand.”
A grim smile tilted the corners of his mouth. “I hate that I don’t know how to protect you and your ship, except by giving in…or leaving.”
“Don’t leave. And I’ll protect myself and my lady. You don’t have to worry about it.”
“Only if you don’t worry about protecting me.”
“I can’t.”
“Then don’t ask me to do the impossible, either.” He dragged his hand though his hair. “Christ. As it is, I am behind on the protecting. I have to save your life a few more times just to pull even. I ought to be hiring men to line up and shoot at you so that I can jump in front of the bullet—but God knows, you’d likely get to them first and snap their necks, and I’d end up paying the poor bastards to die.”
Despite herself, she had to laugh. He could be so wonderfully absurd.
He flashed a smile, then took a deep breath. “All right. We’re not giving in—we’re delaying while we look for the damned thing. We’ll find it, and that will be the end. Yes?”
“Yes,” she said, but in spite of his declaration, lines of worry formed on his brow. “Archimedes?”
“He always has a plan on standby.” He drew the statement out, as if thinking aloud. “But he didn’t try to stop me when I left the ship last night. You could have flown out of range—or I could have walked out of range, nullifying the threat. And he has to know we might find the device en route. No, this was to secure our attention or to serve as a distraction, and perhaps to keep us in line or to protect himself, but—”
By the dawning horror in his eyes, the answer struck him the same moment that Yasmeen realized it, too. They wouldn’t risk everything for Bilson’s brother. But for Archimedes’ sister…?
“Zenobia,” he whispered. “Dear God.”
His stunned immobility didn’t last long. Always ready for action, he started for the door. Yasmeen scrambled across the bed, found his yellow breeches amid the sheets and flung them in his direction.
He snagged them out of the air and stepped into the legs as he went. “I’ll wake the navigator.”
“The course to Fladstrand is already laid,” she reminded him, yanking her shirt over her head. Where were her boots? She needed five minutes to finish her letter to Scarsdale and send the express. “Tell Vashon to pull up our tether and push the engines to full steam. Archimedes?”
He paused at the door, looked back.
“What will it take for Bilson to break?”
“He won’t.” His gaze was flat. “And if it needs to be done, I’ll do it. But I’m not sure it will matter whether we find his breaking point. If he has Zenobia, he’s already found mine.”
And Yasmeen’s. Not just because she was Archimedes’ sister—the woman was her friend, too.
“Will he hurt her?”
“He wouldn’t have to. He just needs to send her to New Eden.”
Sweet heavens. “Who would take her?”
“Someone who’d accept money to go, but who wasn’t good enough to get away.”
Goddammit. That smug bastard had all but told them how he would do it. She shook her head, saw the same anger on Archimedes’ face…and the same fear.
“We’ll get her back,” she told him. “We will.”
Grimly, he nodded. “Either that or I’ll die trying.”
Then they were definitely getting Zenobia back—because Yasmeen would kill everyone in their way before letting that happen.
* * *
It was late afternoon when Lady Nergüi flew into Fladstrand. Yasmeen didn’t bother to stop at the harbor, but sailed through the town, stopping directly over Zenobia’s home.
Archimedes slid down the rope ladder first, with Yasmeen close behind. Zenobia’s orange three-level house stood between two identical buildings, all of them painted in bright colors. Though he didn’t visit as often as he’d have liked, Archimedes loved her home, loved watching her put on a display of irritation every time he shoved his loud and ridiculous life into her practical, quiet one.
Now dread weighed heavy in his chest as he let himself in. The house was cold, the air already stale. The express they’d sent the previous night lay unopened, untouched since being shoved beneath the door that morning. He found a note on her writing desk.
Archimedes,
It seems that I am to embark on an unexpected holiday to New Eden. Please do not follow me. I have always wanted an adventure of my own. If anyone threatens you, please kill them as usual. Don’t stop to chat.
Your doting sister,
Zenobia
P. S. Lady Lynx and the Damned Deceitful Dolt
Dolt? His sister was far better at ripping a man’s character apart than that banal insult suggested.
“They must have been rushing her,” he murmured. “Or she was terrified.”
Beside him, Yasmeen nodded, her mouth a flat line. “The maids are gone, too.”
More people to bring back—but he was glad Zenobia wasn’t alone. “We use codes in our letters, sometimes. She didn’t in this one, so she must not have known the name of the airship.”
“Someone at the harbor will tell us. Fladstrand’s too small for a strange airship to go unnoticed.”
“Her letter includes today’s date.” Perhaps early that morning—before Archimedes’ express had arrived. Bilson must have sent a message to his mercenaries soon after he’d been invited to dinner aboard Lady Nergüi. “Can we catch up to them?”
Her hesitation told him before she did. “Only if we know their exact heading.”
That heading would be south, Archimedes knew. But only a degree’s difference could mean a separation of hundreds of miles by the time they’d traveled the same distance—and the bastards were already at least twelve hours ahead of them.
They’d soon be farther ahead. Lady Nergüi wasn’t prepared for a long journey. They didn’t yet have the necessary fuel and food, or the equipment needed to infiltrate New Eden. That twelve-hour lead would be thirty-six hours or more before they were ready to follow Zenobia.
Yasmeen touched his arm. “We need to go.”
Yes, they did. Zenobia’s note in hand, he started for the door. “How long before we’re in England?”
&nbs
p; “Tomorrow morning.”
And the express letters she’d sent from Port Fallow would be arriving in London any moment now. “Will the Blacksmith’s people have time to make the autogyros?”
“For as much as we offered to pay his smithy? Yes.”
No. Archimedes’ jaw tightened. The Blacksmith wouldn’t jump at anyone’s command, not even for money. She must have been owed a favor, and no one called in the Blacksmith’s favors lightly.
For Zenobia’s sake, he couldn’t ask Yasmeen to reconsider that course…not that she would if he did.
Her gaze swept the gray sky when they stepped outside. Steel had hardened her eyes; no man looking at her would have imagined she had any weak points, any softness. Yet here he stood, a vulnerability exposed and used against her.
Truthfully? I don’t like it at all.
Archimedes liked it even less. Though strong, he was her soft belly.
Would she resent him for that?
God, the thought gutted him. He knew she wouldn’t abandon him for this…but perhaps it would be the start of regret. Losing one ship had hurt her so much, more than she probably admitted to herself. What if, in their search for Zenobia, she lost another?
He couldn’t let it happen. He’d find his sister.
But he wouldn’t risk losing Yasmeen in the process.
* * *
Every airship captain who made runs around the bottom knew to avoid Madagascar in the southern spring. New Eden didn’t often come within sight of the Horde-occupied island, but the steam-powered flyers traded with the merchants there. Those flyers didn’t have a long range. Wherever they roamed, New Eden couldn’t be far away.
And as soon as Yasmeen told Mrs. Fortescue their destination, it was obvious that the navigator thought that New Eden could never be far enough away. Her face was pale as she unrolled maps across Yasmeen’s desk and began plotting the course. Usually bold and flirtatious, now she was quiet, and within minutes she’d gnawed away the rosy stain on her lips. Beside her, Vashon’s tension was less visible, but still apparent in the set of her jaw, and the uncertain glances she cast at Yasmeen’s face, as if wondering whether she’d just signed on with a madwoman.
Fuck uncertainty. This ended now.
A crew that didn’t trust their captain was as worthless as a crew she didn’t trust. But goddammit, she’d been tested as they had. She didn’t rely on her reputation aboard her own ship—and in five months, she’d led them through dangers that other mercenaries wouldn’t have survived. She had no more time for this. They would trust her to do her duty by them, or they could stay behind.
She pinned her new quartermaster with a hard stare. “Would you have signed that contract if you knew we’d be heading straight for New Eden?”
At the table, Archimedes looked up from a journal, where he’d been searching for a colleague’s account of William Bushke before the man had built New Eden. His emerald eyes were haunted—guilt and worry were weighing on him. Earlier, they’d eaten a quiet dinner, and for the first time, the silence hadn’t been comfortable, or filled with more pleasurable activities. No, it had simply been too difficult to laugh or smile when they’d both been sliced open at the gut by Zenobia’s abduction.
Vashon cleared her throat. “Honestly, ma’am?”
“Yes.”
“I wouldn’t have. But now that I’m aboard your airship, I’ll stick with her.”
Yasmeen turned her attention to the navigator. “And you, Mrs. Fortescue?”
“I’m still thinking about it, ma’am.” Agitation had darkened the woman’s plump cheeks, but she held herself calmly. “You’re…well, you’re the notorious Lady Corsair. I know your reputation, and I’ve seen you wriggle us out of tight spots. And I knew this job meant that I’d be picking up a sword or a gun and using them; I knew I might die on these decks. But I can’t say I ever saw myself spending the rest of my life farming in a city in the sky.”
A fate worse than death, for some. Yasmeen couldn’t blame them for thinking so—she’d have felt the same way.
She couldn’t blame them. But she’d be damned before ever abandoning a ship and crew in the wake of such fears. If anyone would rather leave her lady, good riddance to them.
“We’ll arrive in Medway tomorrow, Mrs. Fortescue. You have until that time to decide.”
“Whether to leave?” She appeared briefly horrified. “It’s true I wouldn’t like farming, but there’s no question. I’ll stay, ma’am.”
Good. But all of them needed to decide by then. Yasmeen looked to Vashon. “Call all hands on deck. Not just the aviators—everyone. Now.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
As she turned, Yasmeen said, “I’ll see you up top, Mrs. Fortescue.”
The navigator nodded and made a hasty exit.
Yasmeen drew a deep breath, then threw back her shoulders. She buckled her jacket, straightened her sash.
“Are you primping?”
Archimedes sounded amused. A glance at his face told her that he wasn’t.
“I’m giving them the choice to go,” she said.
“Why?”
Because they’d be less likely to change their minds later or to refuse her orders. Because she’d have to kill anyone who did.
“I wouldn’t, if this was my old crew.” Or even if she’d had more time with this one. “I knew they’d follow me anywhere and without hesitation. Even if they thought I was mad, they’d trust me to pull through. My old crew…” Her throat tightened. “My old crew isn’t here.”
He came to her, caught her face between his hands. “I’m so sorry, Yasmeen.”
It wasn’t his fault. But she knew that trying to talk him out of that guilt would be useless. She tried to smile—and when she failed, tried to make him smile. “I want Zenobia back, too. Who else would immortalize my adventures? And I still have to convince her to pay me fifty percent in royalties.”
The tilt of his lips didn’t last long, and the humor never reached his eyes. “What will you tell them about Bilson?”
“Not that he’s hiding a device that can kill you and Anisa Stoker,” she said. “I’ll have to frame his presence in another way.”
“One that explains why you shot him.”
“Ah, yes. I forgot about that.”
Not truly, but she might as well have. Finding the device mattered. Zenobia mattered. When Bilson finally awoke from his opium-induced sleep, Archimedes and she would have to deal with the man…but he didn’t matter.
She looked up at Archimedes, saw the torment on his face. Though she knew he wouldn’t let go of this guilt easily, she had to try. “Stop blaming yourself for this.”
“Oh, I’ve progressed to blaming him.” His smile was short-lived, and that tortured regret appeared again. Softly, he added, “But you shouldn’t be forced into this. I’ll hire another airship at Medway. I’ll go after Zenobia alone.”
He wasn’t joking. Yasmeen stared at him. She wanted to laugh, but each word resounded in her ears, squeezed painfully at her heart. A sense of unreality descended; she shook her head, trying to clear it. “I’m having difficulty deciding whether I’m moved or offended by that suggestion.”
“Moved,” he said. “I love you. I can’t bear to risk you. And I can’t bear being the reason you might lose your crew.”
She would hate it, too. But by the lady, she hated this suggestion more, and as the sense of unreality lifted, she wasn’t moved or offended. She was hurt. He’d wounded her so easily. So carelessly.
“You know everything I am,” she said, and hated the strain in her voice, the betraying tremble. “For me to let you go alone to New Eden, I would have to be the same person that you are under the influence of that device.”
“God, no.” He reached for her. “Yasmeen—”
She pulled away. If he touched her now, it would be too much. She had to shut it all away, to steel her heart, or begin weeping, sobbing…directly before speaking to her crew. They wouldn’t follow her anywhere.
His voice raw, Archimedes tried again. “Yasmeen, I just want to protect—”
“Don’t. Don’t even suggest it.” She drew her dagger, held it out to him. “You might as well take this blade and shove it through my heart now.”
He didn’t take it. Of course he didn’t. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. She knew that…but knowing meant nothing compared to the growing ache in her chest, the tightness of her throat. She had to go up top and pretend this pain didn’t exist. Had to pretend she wasn’t terrified that half her crew would decide she wasn’t worth following, and leave.
She paused at the door. Perhaps it was weak, but she needed this from him now. “You’d be risking Zenobia by hiring someone else. Someone not as good. Do you want that, instead?”
He closed his eyes. “No.”
Then Yasmeen could hold on to that, at least.
* * *
You know everything I am.
God, he did. Bred to guard Horde royalty, she’d grown up expecting to have her very life tethered to one person, to guard them or die trying. She’d escaped that life and made her own, but she hadn’t discarded everything from her training—she’d said that falling in love had been like tethering to him; her life was bound to his now. She took pride in standing beside him, protecting him…just as he did in standing by her.
He’d known all that—and he’d made a mess of it. He’d wanted to see her safe, and slapped at her pride and heart, instead.
But he couldn’t repair the damage right away. He could only stand beside her now.
On the main deck, everyone aboard had gathered amidships. The aviators had clustered in front, the engineers and senior crew to starboard, and the others scattered in between. Thirty men and woman—plus five girls and two boys. He knew their names now, most of their stories.
Yasmeen took the quarterdeck. Behind her, steam billowed in great clouds—the boilers at full, but the engines quiet for the next few minutes. The wind wafted thick tendrils of mist around the balloon, as if they were floating backward through a heavy fog. Archimedes stepped onto the quarterdeck, took his place behind her. Perhaps she didn’t want him there now; he didn’t know. It wouldn’t have mattered, anyway. Even if she put a knife to his throat and told him to go, he’d never do anything but stand with her.