Tethered (Novella) - By Meljean Brook Page 0,48
that stretched ahead.
To her surprise, she felt little dread. The tangle between Archimedes and her had been unknotted. They had a clear course of action ahead. There were still risks to her ship and crew—but so there would always be when flying over lawless seas, and she would never have it any other way.
“I must be mad, Mr. Fox. My lady has been commandeered by your bastard friend, his damned device is still a threat…and yet I think I might enjoy myself on this journey.”
He grinned and dropped a kiss to her mouth. “I know I will.”
Chapter 6
Bilson was not enjoying himself.
On the quarterdeck, Yasmeen watched the slick bastard nod to Longcock, then stop for a moment to flirt with Miss Cheeksankum. She wasn’t at all surprised that in the three weeks since leaving Port Fallow, Bilson had charmed his way into some of the crew’s good graces; he was simply that sort. Archimedes and Yasmeen remained brief and polite, as if he weren’t different from any other passenger, so the crew had initially followed their lead. And after he’d shared the reason behind Zenobia’s kidnap—in confidence, and with only a few of the aviators, though obviously knowing that the story would spread—some of the crew’s initial outrage had faded, too.
All well and good. He could play his little games; they didn’t stop the frustration that she saw rising every time Yasmeen cut the engines and allowed her aviators—and Archimedes—time to take out the autogyros or practice their weapons drills, and passing the time by planning mock escapes from New Eden. To Bilson, this must seem a holiday for most of her aviators, a slow cruise over beautiful turquoise water in the warmth of the late southern spring.
Her gaze moved to Archimedes, standing at the bow with a spyglass in hand. This hadn’t been a holiday, of course. Ever vigilant, they all searched the sky for signs of the flyers…or any other airship.
Yasmeen hoped to spot other airships, first. But even if one arrived with news of Zenobia, it wouldn’t be complete freedom from Bilson’s demands.
That had been her one frustration—they hadn’t yet found the device. Frowning over the mystery now, she retrieved a cigarillo from her case. Every inch of this ship had been quietly searched, including the crews’ belongings. Archimedes had even scoured the outside hull whilst flying the autogyro, and Yasmeen had personally crawled through the engines, shimmied along the propeller shafts, delving into every crevice and piece of equipment on her ship.
She didn’t know where the hell it could be—and still didn’t know who Bilson’s ally was.
Her eyes narrowed on him as he approached the quarterdeck. She nodded permission when he called out a request to join her, and when his gaze flicked to her cigarillo case, she offered him one.
He leaned closer to the windbreak to light it, then regarded her quietly as he inhaled. After a moment, he looked starboard, toward the southern horizon, where a green sliver of Madagascar was visible in the distance. “Is that the island again?”
Ah, yes. His greatest frustration, quietly expressed. He wanted to venture farther out into the Eastern Ocean, taking a longer, wider route in search of the floating city. Yasmeen had explained that his suggestion would make finding New Eden all but impossible; there was simply too much ocean, and it would be like trying to find a boilerworm in a desert. It made much more sense to wait by a waterhole, knowing they’d eventually come to replenish their stores. In the same way, it was better to let the city come to them, in a location that the flyers were known to frequent.
Of course, Yasmeen hadn’t shared that the flyers almost always approached Madagascar from the south. Lady Nergüi had been circling the region to the northeast—though not just to avoid New Eden. This was where she’d told Scarsdale to find them; she didn’t want to force his hired airships to search for the equivalent of a boilerworm, either.
Nodding, she blew a stream of smoke into the wind. “It is.”
His gaze narrowed on her face again. “You must despise me, Captain.”
“No.” And it was true. Nothing she felt toward him was that strong. “You amuse me.”
Oh, he didn’t like that. And what would his reply be? She’d wager a full bag of gold on a statement about his mental or moral superiority. It was the typical response from proud men who’d been mocked by strong women.
He nodded, as if he hadn’t anticipated anything else from