Tethered (21 page)

Yasmeen turned. She scanned the gardens, the path—

Archimedes?

His gaze had fixed on her. That look told her what she’d already guessed: Bushke had meant to kill her. He must have learned it from Joseph or his companion, and come to warn her.

No, not just warn her. He’d have set the rest of their plan in motion, as well. And perhaps if he hadn’t been so damn handsome, perhaps if—even wearing the same tunic and trousers—he didn’t hold himself so differently from everyone else in New Eden, he might have followed her without attracting attention.

But since he had, she’d protect him now, too. “He’s my husband,” she said to the guards. And if Bushke wanted to speak to the
Lady Nergüi
’s captain, she’d give him a reason to bring them both in. “He’s co-captain of my ship.”

Another flash came from the opposite side of the garden, repeated twice. Another guard, another spyglass. The signal repeated again.

Twenty yards away, Archimedes abruptly stopped, eyes widening. His gaze snapped to hers. Behind her, she heard a familiar click: a gun, the hammer cocked.

By the lady. “Archimedes! Down!”

The roar of a blunderbuss drowned out her scream. Red bloomed in his shoulder. He spun, then staggered to the side.

“
Archimedes!
” She sprinted toward him, heart bursting in her chest. A shoulder shot wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t so bad—

He fell.

Vanished.

Her cry caught in her throat. She threw herself after him. Thick soil cushioned her knees. A hole opened in the ground before her.

Access to the level below? If so, the guards wouldn’t have an angle for another shot. Now she would look down, and he would be on the platform below, grinning up at her. Almost laughing now, she braced her hands, glanced over.

Nothing. Just water, far below.

That couldn’t be.

He’d be hanging on the framework, then—

He wasn’t.

This couldn’t be right. Her vision was blurring, and she just wasn’t seeing properly. Closing her eyes, Yasmeen shook her head, looked again.

He would be there.

But there was only water. Only the dissipating smoke trail from a flyer. Only gulls, cawing. And a woman crying that she needed to wake up now, needed to wake up, because she couldn’t lose him.

Then pain exploded in the back of her head, and she was swept into darkness, instead.

He truly was the luckiest man alive—and now,
still
alive.

And he’d finally, finally proved his father wrong: God
did
love men who wore adornments. He must, because there was no other reason for the Almighty to send a steam-powered flyer streaking beneath a floating city at the very instant that Archimedes Fox fell through a rubbish hole.

The pilot was a bit less lucky—or just too foolish to have strapped himself to the flyer’s body. The jolt of Archimedes’ landing bucked the man straight off. With a whoop, Archimedes scooted into his place. He didn’t know how to pilot the damned thing, but he just needed to steady it a bit while he tore off the god-awful homespun tunic—bloodied now. The wind whipped it away. His shoulder hurt like hell, but he’d had worse.

He’d have much worse if he didn’t get off this machine before he flew it into a steel beam or rode it into the water. There were the turbines passing overhead—he shifted his weight, and the flyer banked toward the bow of the ship. He had no idea how to land it in the hangar, and didn’t want to kill himself trying.

Thank God for sending the flyer—and for pneumatic-launched grappling hooks.

He was losing altitude. Now or never.

The launcher’s recoil shrieked through his shoulder. The grappling whipped around a railing on the suspended walkway. The cable drew taut and yanked him off the flyer. The harness saved his arms from being ripped from their sockets—climbing a cable after being shot by a blunderbuss was painful enough.

He was almost to the railing when a group of men started across the steel walkway. Stokers, by the look of them—each one of them covered in coal dust. They suddenly quieted when Archimedes pulled himself over the rail and tumbled to the steel grating.

They gaped as if they’d never seen a ridiculously handsome bleeding man in a turquoise waistcoat fall through a rubbish hole and then save himself with a grappling hook before. What
did
they do for fun in New Eden?

But he had no time to ask. He had a wife to save.

He reached for his revolver. “How do I find William Bushke? I have a message to deliver.”

With a bullet. Except, goddammit—the revolver wasn’t in his harness. Falling onto the flyer or being yanked around by the cable must have shaken it loose.

No matter. He’d make do.

One of the men pointed to another suspended walkway. Archimedes nodded his thank-you, then added, “If you’d like to leave this damn city, I’m a madman with an airship and a plan. Just follow along, maybe throw a punch or two if one of the guards makes it past me, and we’ll get the hell out of here.”

With that, he started down the walkway. No time to wait for their answer.

Not while Yasmeen waited for him to return to her side.

*   *   *

She didn’t know which one had pummeled her head
with his steel glove. She didn’t know which one had shot Archimedes. It didn’t matter. She would kill them all.

Not yet, though. Not yet. Not when she couldn’t even draw breath.

Her tears dripped in a steady stream, splashing against the polished deck between her knees. She’d opened her eyes in William Bushke’s quarters, but she hadn’t yet made it to her feet.

She
would
get up. She would.

Not yet.

Archimedes could survive the fall to the water. Even though he bled and the ocean teemed with sharks, Archimedes would return to her side.

He had to. Or she would die with him.

“I am sorry for this tragedy, Mrs. Gunther-Baptiste. Truly I am.” The kindly faced tyrant crouched in front of her. “But my guards believed he carried a weapon beneath his tunic—and that he was en route to my quarters. They were only protecting the safety of our citizens.”

She would kill him, too. It would be easy. This old wardroom had been transformed into a library. Six guards stood in the cabin with them. None of them had their guns ready. She would leap for the nearest guard, rip his throat out with her claws and take his weapon. The second would fall just as the others finally began to react. The third’s body would serve as a shield, and she’d use the guns she’d collected while ripping out throats to shoot the remaining three guards. Bushke would be last, the slowest.

But she couldn’t yet. Taking that revenge meant admitting there was something to take revenge
for.
And he wasn’t dead.

Another reason, perhaps. Even over the sounds of her tears and the screaming of her heart she heard the faint sounds of gunfire echoing up through the companionway outside the wardroom. The others hadn’t heard heard it yet, but she knew the sound: George Longcock was in the hangar shed.

She would have to be careful not to slip on her tears—they were as slippery as blood.

With a sigh, Bushke rose and made his way back toward his desk. “I can see that you are overwhelmed, but there are matters which must be attended to, and…”

He paused, head tilted, and moved toward the passageway to listen at the open library door. Yasmeen listened, too, but there was no more gunfire. Longcock had finished.

She would need to get started.

But not yet. Not until her heart beat again.

Shaking his head, Bushke faced her. He sent a quick glance at one of the guards, who began to move around behind Yasmeen.

Bushke picked up where he’d left off. “And so, Mrs. Gunther-Baptiste, I thought we might have a little chat about—”

His eyes widened suddenly, his body stiffening. His left arm rose. Blood bubbled from his mouth. He fell forward, facedown and flat on the floor.

A red-handled dagger jutted up from his back.

Archimedes.

The wonderful, incredible man. Joy rushed through her, fierce and sweet. Her laugh burst, easing the pain around her lungs, lifting the weight from her heart.

The guards shouted, heading for the door, guns drawn. Heading for Archimedes.

She caught the guard who rushed past her; he didn’t have time to scream. The next guard’s neck snapped like a twig. She took down the third, and the other guards hadn’t even recognized the fury coming from behind. Another one fell, and finally, another guard noticed. He had time to widen his eyes.

The last one she left for Archimedes. He didn’t disappoint. The matching dagger flew through the doorway, embedded in the guard’s throat.

Her husband came through next. He paused for a moment, staring at her before crossing the room, catching her face in his gentle hands. His thumbs swept over her cheeks. “Not these, Yasmeen. Not for me.”

“I won’t,” she said. But her eyes filled again. She touched his hair, his jaw, his mouth. Solid, real. Her voice trembled. “You came back to me.”

His smile all but wrecked her again. “I promised I would. And I had to save you.”

He had saved her, more than he could know. Then his mouth was on hers, bringing her heart into the space between them, restarting it with the sweetest kiss.

When he lifted his head, she followed him up. She
would
stop kissing him.

But not yet.

*   *   *

They met up with Longcock in the hangar
. The first mate had finished off most of the guards, and as they made their way back to
Lady Nergüi,
Bushke’s remaining guards had surrendered—a tyrant fallen, and not a single member of her new crew lost.

They wouldn’t always be so fortunate. But Yasmeen wouldn’t question her luck today. Not after losing Archimedes, then holding him again.

By the time she reached the mooring station, Vashon had already loosened the tether holding her lady’s belly against the ground. The furnaces had been fired. Steam billowed from her vents in thick clouds.

Archimedes steadied the rope ladder for her. “Ready to go, then?”

No. They weren’t quite done. She looked to Longcock. “We can carry forty passengers. Choose them according to the length of their stay here. Don’t separate any families—if the person who has been here longest has forty children, they all come. We’ll be sending more ships for those who are left behind.”

“And Mr. Bilson, ma’am?”

That was up to Archimedes. She met his eyes, raised her brows.

He shrugged. “Don’t separate any families, as she said. Leave Bilson here with his brother. And we’ll let the other airships know that he was the very last person to arrive, so he should also be the last to leave.”

Yasmeen grinned. That suited her as well—and now she wanted to be off this damned floating city.

Climbing quickly, she reached her lady’s deck. Her heart swelled the moment her boots touched the boards. Only a year ago, she’d lost everything. Now she had a beautiful ship, a fine crew, and the most incredible man to share it with.

Yasmeen turned to him as he came over the gunwale. Now was not the time to kiss or to touch. Taking a cigarillo from her silver case, she lit one and passed it to him.

She let her fingers brush his, and loved the burn in his eyes. Together, they looked over the city. It was beautiful. Purples and reds and so much green. The gardens lush and fragrant, perfuming the air through the smoke.

“Bushke named it properly,” Archimedes said softly.

“Yes.” A paradise. “But it won’t last.”

“No?”

She shook her head. Whatever else Bushke had been, he wasn’t a fool. His ruthlessness had kept New Eden safe. “It won’t be long. Pirates will discover that they don’t have to fear seeing this city on the horizon. It will soon be prey.”

“Perhaps for a while,” Archimedes said. “New Eden’s reputation will have to change, but that doesn’t mean it will be known as weak. If the people who remain here love it, they will have reason to defend this city just as fiercely.”

Yasmeen narrowed her eyes at him. But she could hardly argue with that, could she?

A commotion below drew her gaze. Bilson. Apparently unhappy with Archimedes’ decision. Ah, but his desperation made the whole world brighter.

Perhaps not for everyone, though. This city had many vulnerabilities, as did the people who lived here. Someone like Bilson could easily take advantage of them. “Are we leaving another Bushke here?”

“Bilson?” Archimedes shook his head. “Not with his brother here. Joseph shut him down. I’ve never seen anyone else do that. So this might be the safest place for him.”

“And he could not be any farther away from your sister.”

Though Archimedes nodded, she saw the worry in his gaze. Yasmeen knew what it stemmed from. She felt the same.

“We exposed her when we put out those adverts. Now everyone knows that you have a sister…and that we will pay a fortune for her return.”

Archimedes’ jaw hardened. His only response was a nod—which meant he didn’t trust himself to speak.

On-duty and in the sight of the crew be damned. Yasmeen took his hand.

“Zenobia’s clever,” she reassured him. “And she’s practical.”

“Yes.” But he did not sound persuaded.

“She is so practical, in fact, that she will probably begin arranging her own kidnappings, and splitting the ransom we pay with her associates.”

And there was his beautiful grin. “Do not give her that idea.”

“I should, though. It would likely end up in her next Lady Lynx adventure.” Yasmeen took the cigarillo from him, was thoughtful as she inhaled. “The solution, of course, is not to pay the next one who kidnaps her. We’ll just kill him.”

“Or teach her to do it. Then she will have a reputation of her own.”

Oh, and that was why she loved this man. That was the perfect solution. “We should begin her lessons upon our return—and start by kidnapping an earl, to show her how a proper abduction is done.”

“And soon she will be off on her own adventures.
Zenobia Fox, the Practical Pirate.
”