her. “I know you want to kill me for having the audacity to go to these lengths to save my brother. I don’t expect you to understand why I would do that.”
As she’d assumed. “You know I understand exactly why, or you wouldn’t have used the device against Archimedes. Your audacious plan hinges on my caring enough not to throw him off my ship the moment he and his sister became a problem for me.”
“You call the man that you supposedly care for a ‘problem’?”
He truly did amuse her. She smiled, and had to give him credit—he didn’t step back, and he only revealed a bit of wariness in the sudden shift of his gaze, the tensing of his shoulders.
“My husband was a problem for you, not me. That’s why you used Zenobia. When you asked for his help, you knew he wouldn’t endanger me and my ship—so you already had your standby plan in place. And that plan put us both right where you wanted us, made us slaves to your cause…and it only worked because you knew very well that both Archimedes and I understand perfectly the risks that love will drive us to take.”
“I know he does.”
He glanced toward Archimedes, who was watching them from the bow. Bemusement had lifted the corners of his beautiful mouth—probably recognizing that his old friend was attempting to cut her down a bit. She saw Archimedes laugh and shake his head.
Yes, it was absolutely ridiculous.
Bilson said softly, “But I also know you, Captain. I heard all the same stories that he did whilst following your career, but I’m not as besotted or as blinded as he is. Your reputation is at stake, and that’s the only reason you’re still going along with this—so that no one discovers that I forced your hand.”
That made no sense at all. It would have been far easier simply to kill him if she wanted to preserve her reputation. But she allowed him this little moment, letting him think he’d gotten the better of her.
“Yes,” she agreed. “You have all the pieces lined up perfectly. I wonder what happens when one doesn’t fall in the direction you’ve anticipated? I think you’d have nothing left—just as you won’t when we find New Eden.”
He didn’t respond, but she had never been more certain that his kidnap of Zenobia had indeed been a bluff. There was smugness in the set of his mouth, his self-satisfied posture.
“Ah, that look,” she said. “That is why you amuse me, Mr. Bilson. You’re so certain that you’ve played your game perfectly. So certain that you’ll always have another trick. It’s a pity, actually. With this ability to prepare and plan, your ability to align yourself with and understand the people around you, you could have been a fine leader.”
His brows rose. “Are you praising me, Captain?”
“I’m not blind. Only an idiot refuses to recognize the strength of an adversary.” She let him puff his chest up before adding, “But you’re a different sort of idiot. You see the strengths of the people who aren’t adversaries, and who would align themselves with you given the right incentive, but you exploit their vulnerabilities, instead. You simply poke at weak spots—just as you did when you were writing your radical handbills. Just a little boy, poking away, and needing the help of someone like Archimedes in order to actually accomplish anything.”
His jaw clenched. “Are you claiming that you’d have aligned yourself with me, that you’d have helped me? You refused, Captain. And I knew you would.”
“You took the wrong tack from the very start. You knew our strengths. My abilities, Archimedes’ need for excitement—”
“That’s a strength?”
Anyone who saw Archimedes’ willingness to throw himself into dangerous situations as a weakness truly was an idiot. If Archimedes had been stupid or reckless, that would have been another matter. He wasn’t either of those things, and he wouldn’t have lived this long if he had been. Her husband ascribed much of his survival to luck, but that was wrong, too. He survived because his mind was as quick as his body, because of his unyielding determination to succeed no matter the odds, and because he studied every situation and prepared for the danger before throwing himself into it.
But his willingness to throw himself into the fray extended far beyond “danger.” No matter the undertaking, he approached it with that same eagerness, abandoning himself to the experience—whether he was loving her, learning the workings of an airship, or simply shoveling