Tethered (Novella) - By Meljean Brook Page 0,7

not many women were, and it would be to Vashon’s advantage with the crew, helping to command their respect—at least initially. The first quartermaster Yasmeen hired for Lady Nergüi had been tall, too. No matter how much he’d demanded respect, however, he’d never been able to command it.

Yasmeen was glad to be rid of him. Despite impeccable references, he hadn’t known how to handle a crew; she hoped that a woman whose family name was synonymous with excellent aviation would. Having met two of Vashon’s mutinous cousins, however, Yasmeen wouldn’t count on the name alone.

At least this Vashon had the good sense not to comment on the unusual décor in Yasmeen’s cabin. In their cabin. Archimedes loved the low dining table and lounging pillows as much as Yasmeen did, and so they’d kept that part of their living quarters the same as Yasmeen’s previous cabin. The shelves of books were new, however, and all his—as were the two additional crates of books waiting to be unpacked, and the oversized wardrobe. The desk allowed them to work facing each other, and had been clearly set up as a shared space, with two inkwells and chairs for them both.

Now Yasmeen slid his chair out and gestured for Vashon to sit. As she took the opposite side, with her back to the shelves, Archimedes entered the cabin.

Yasmeen wasn’t surprised. He’d taken an interest in every aspect of her—their—airship, and though he’d pretend to be occupied by another task, she knew he’d be listening to every word, coming to his own conclusions about their new quartermaster.

If any other man had done the same, Yasmeen would have been irritated by how far he’d overstepped. Not with Archimedes, however. He had no desire to run her ship, only to know everything about it—just as she often read the research that preceded his salvaging runs. She wanted to better know what he loved, to understand it. Luckily, his work was just as fascinating as the man, and she enjoyed it almost as much as he did. He’d become equally invested in her ship.

He tossed his bulging canvas pack onto the low table. “If you don’t mind, Captain, I’ll lounge here and sort my correspondence.”

“Very well, Mr. Fox.”

In truth, Yasmeen was happy to have him there. He sank onto the pillows centered in the pool of afternoon light that spilled in through the two large portholes, directly in her line of sight—and an appealing sight it was. Summer had streaked his brown hair with gold, and as the months passed without a cut, he’d tamed the ragged length with a leather tie at his nape. After a lazy morning, he’d skipped a shave, leaving his jaw roughly shadowed. Now, making himself comfortable, he loosened the linen around his neck. What an incredibly appealing combination that was—the orange silk of his waistcoat, the white shirt, the tanned skin at his throat. She loved to bury her face in that spot, to feel the lean muscles underneath that outrageous clothing.

It was strange how many people underestimated him, who only saw the color he wore and not the strength beneath it. That had been another failing of the last quartermaster, who’d acted as if Archimedes didn’t exist—who’d treated him like a pretty boy with an empty head.

Her husband was anything but.

She met Vashon’s eyes again, aware that the other woman hadn’t looked away from her face during the exchange with Archimedes. Had she noted that Archimedes hadn’t actually asked for Yasmeen’s permission to remain? No, he was simply making certain that the new quartermaster saw his respect for Yasmeen’s position.

Judging by the hint of uncertainty in the woman’s expression, however, Yasmeen would soon have to clarify Archimedes’ position aboard this ship. But first, she needed to clarify exactly what Vashon’s would be.

She leaned back in her chair and pinned Vashon with a sharp stare. “Before I make your appointment official, mademoiselle, I have questions regarding your record and recommendations.”

“Of course, Captain.”

“Your references from your family are quite favorable, as are those from your former commanders. Normally, that alone would recommend you to any captain.”

Yasmeen paused, creating a silence that seemed significant—but Vashon didn’t rush to fill it. She didn’t try to second-guess Yasmeen, but waited to discover what the problem was before addressing it.

Good.

“With your qualifications, you ought to be seeking command of a Vashon ship. Why aren’t you?”

“In my family, Captain, there are two options: to serve the king in the navy or to serve aboard the Vashon fleet. I’m