Tethered by Meljean Brook Page B

let him give the orders on this ship, Captain?”
    Humor lightened his voice, as if he were making a joke, but Yasmeen assumed that she was supposed to feel its bite.
    She merely lifted her brows. “If he doesn’t think your brother is worth the risk to my crew, why would I?”
    And it
would
be a risk. Aside from the enormous, rigid dreadnoughts that accompanied naval fleets, airships weren’t built for battle; it was too easy to incinerate the balloon. The etiquette of the seas demanded that enemies didn’t target an airship’s envelope, though the wooden cruiser beneath was a fair target. Only the dirtiest pirates and mercenaries fired on a balloon.
    William Bushke was dirtier than any of them. As soon as he spotted an airship in the distance, he sent out steam-powered flyers to pursue it. Every captain prayed for cloudy skies if they were unlucky enough to come close to the floating city—and once those flyers came, prayer was all they had left. Bushke gave them a choice: surrender or die. There were no further negotiations, and the flyers
would
fire on the balloon.
    It would have been a terrible risk…yet if Archimedes had wanted to go, she’d have gone with him. She’d have helped him if her husband felt he owed his friend that much.
    Thank the blue heavens, he didn’t seem to feel that obligation.
    Still, that didn’t mean her husband wasn’t willing to help. He offered, “If you need money to buy mercenaries and an airship willing to go, I’ll give it to you.”
    “I have money. And I’ve found someone who would go—but they wouldn’t be good enough to get away. No, I need someone who can get in and out, and get the job done. Someone with expertise.” He looked to Yasmeen. “You. After you killed his father, Archimedes followed your career, sought every mention of you. I heard all about how you scouted for the Liberé and French, how you brought in infiltration soldiers to garrisons fortified with more weapons and men than Bushke has. I know what you can do.”
    “And most of it over jungle canopy,” Yasmeen said. Infiltration was far more difficult over the wide-open sea. “I know people who can do it for you, and they might be persuaded by money more readily than we are.”
    Bilson’s jaw clenched, and his frustrated gaze shot to Archimedes. “Do the years we spent as partners mean nothing to you? Every time I saved your reckless ass, every time I stood behind you. You won’t even consider honoring that debt of friendship?”
    Archimedes met that accusing stare without flinching. “They mean quite a bit, and are the only reason I did consider it. But I won’t risk Yasmeen and this ship.”
    Bilson closed his eyes. A long silence followed. Finally, with a tired smile, he shook his head. “You understand I had to try.”
    By questioning Archimedes’ honor? If not for that, Yasmeen could have felt sympathy for his dilemma. She left it to her husband to express any, instead.
    She was surprised when he remained quiet, watching his friend. He held his wine lightly, but she could see the tension in his forearms, felt it in the tautness of his thigh against hers. Archimedes was on his guard, though his expression gave away none of his wariness. He regarded Bilson with solemn regret—not regretting his refusal, Yasmeen thought, but sorry that his refusal had pushed his friend to insult. Her husband forgave personal transgressions quite readily, but after suchwords had been said, Yasmeen couldn’t see how they could be completely easy with each other again.
    Already, awkwardness had set in. Bilson cleared his throat and attempted to rescue the conversation. “Well. Where are you off to next?”
    “England, to kidnap an earl,” Archimedes said, his manner affable. “Then on to Cordoba to look for a statue.”
    He didn’t mention their planned visit to Zenobia. Of course, Bilson hadn’t mentioned his visit to Fladstrand the week before, either, which had prompted Zenobia’s express. That