The Clockwork Dagger by Beth Cato Page A

free him, of course.”
    Mr. Garret considered her. “The cargo hold should do until the promenade empties about midnight. No one will hear him there. He’ll be safe, Miss Leander.”
    Octavia released a deep breath. “Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Garret. And your humanity.” Each time I meet this man, I like him a little more.
    â€œBludgeoning a defenseless creature is no sport, m’lady.” His words reflected his Tamaran heritage: all logic and clear morality, even as his lilting accent was pure Mercian. For the first time, Octavia wondered what it would be like to settle in Tamarania, a city-state known for sparse crime, pacifism, and street-corner philosophers.
    Mrs. Stout dabbed her lips with a napkin. “If we must wait until late for our clandestine activities, I do believe I’ll retire to bed.”
    â€œYour cots can certainly be set up now, m’ladies,” Mr. Garret said in a louder voice, backing up. They followed him from the promenade as Octavia scrutinized him.
    Romantic entanglements, however brief, were dangerous. She knew that from the medical wards and the heartbreaks she’d witnessed time and again. A girl would heal a soldier. Enjoy his company. Think cozy what-ifs. He returns to duty. Dies in some terrible, instantaneous way.
    I’ll know Mr. Garret for only a few days. I’m not some flibbertigibbet out for a fling. Our relationship is temporary. Professional.
    Though Mrs. Stout is right. His uniform pants do fit in an extremely flattering way.
    She was so busy looking down that she almost walked into him as he stopped at their room. A self-conscious flush warmed her cheeks as she fumbled for her key.
    She entered first. The thin bunk mattress was flipped onto the floor. A splash of water across the sink revealed that the tap had been running. A handle along the wall had been flipped down, revealing a small foldout writing surface. In the midst of the maelstrom sat Leaf. His ears perked up at the sight of Octavia and he launched himself at her shoulder, squawking.
    â€œShush, shush,” she said, nudging aside the open cage so she could squeeze beside the sink. She noted the undone padlock and scanned the floor. There was no sign of the key that had been left hooked atop the cage. Perhaps Leaf was too intelligent for his own good.
    Mrs. Stout and Mr. Garret entered, and he shut the door behind him. Standing there, they occupied almost all the space in the room.
    â€œThis is what we will do,” Mr. Garret said, then paused, his brows lowered in thought. “I will escort Miss Leander into the cargo hold. Mrs. Stout, I hate to leave this mess for you—”
    â€œTosh and fiddlesticks.” Mrs. Stout flicked her hand, then smoothed the blue streak in her hair. “I’m not an invalid. I can tidy things and then call a steward to ready our beds.”
    â€œWhat of you, Mr. Garret?” Octavia asked. “Yet again, you go beyond the duties of your station to assist me.”
    â€œDoing what is right is often an unpopular choice. That said, I am not often popular.” He softened the words with an almost bashful shrug.
    Octavia pressed her fingers to her mouth as if she could hide her smile. “Oh. Perhaps that’s why we get along so well, Mr. Garret.”
    Amusement glittered in his eyes. “Perhaps, m’lady. Now, can you cage the beastie?”
    â€œCertainly.” Octavia made a kissing noise to attract the gremlin’s attention. He remained precariously balanced on her shoulder, his wing like a fan by her ear. “Into the cage and quiet, little one. We must take you someplace safe.”
    Leaf chittered and half slid down the slope of Octavia’s breasts. He glided into the cage at her feet.
    â€œOh my. Whatever happened to my key?” asked Mrs. Stout. “Surely he didn’t eat it?”
    â€œI have a spare lock in my quarters,” said Mr. Garret.
    Octavia refastened