The Lady Machinist (Curiosity Chronicles Book 1) by Ava Morgan Page B

him of her deceased husband. How sad. She was too young to be a widow. What happened to Galen Dimosthenis? He wondered during the morning of departure as he rose before dawn to ready the ship to set sail.
    By the time daylight came, Malcolm was already barking orders to the crew.
    “Ready to go back to the cold Channel waters already?” Rhys quipped as he read over the ship’s estimated travel coordinates that Finley prepared yesterday.
    Malcolm harrumphed. “I couldna sleep last night. I kept thinking I heard those metal contraptions walking in the cargo hold.”
    “You should cease reading scary bedtime stories. Lydia disabled the automatons.”
    “I’m not fond of bringing her on board, either. You know what’s said about women on ships.”
    “Surely you don’t believe that old fishmonger’s tale about women being bad luck.”
    Malcolm did his best to pretend otherwise. “It could be trouble keeping the men away from her.”
    Rhys had already thought about that. “Lydia will have my cabin. I’ll stay in the crew’s quarters.”
    “Where is the lass, anyway? Didn’t you tell her to be here at first light?”
    Rhys lifted his eyes as the sun began its ascent. What was keeping Lydia? Perhaps she was at the palace with the king and Nikolaos. They had yet to arrive to see the crew off.
    Finley called down from the door of the navigation room. “Captain, shall we weigh anchor?”
    “Shortly. We have to wait on Lady Dimosthenis.”
    “Look ‘round to see if there’s another pair of pants running about. She may already be on board.” Malcolm’s comment produced laughter from the crew.
    “Enough jokes. Ready the engine,” Rhys ordered.
    No sooner had he uttered the phrase than Lydia came striding towards the shore’s edge. A man walked with her, bearing one of her smaller travel trunks. She carried the other. Rhys took a longboat to meet them onshore.
    Eschewing conventional ladies traveling clothes, she had on fitted dark trousers tucked into black boots. A utilitarian vest was cinched over her blouse with straps that crossed and buckled around her waist. At least no knives or cartridges were present this time.
    “Are we ready to sail?” she asked.
    Rhys did not let the distraction of her figure, clad within the corseted structuring of her vest and fitted pants keep him from giving her a piece of his mind. “The crew and I have been ready for an hour.”
    “I was saying goodbye to my mother. She couldn’t watch me sail away. This is my father Hector Korba.” She indicated to the older gentleman standing beside her.
    Rhys then noticed the resemblance between the two of them. “How do you do, Mr. Korba?”
    “Ambassador, I am entrusting you with the safety of my only child. Promise me that she will be protected and receive the utmost respect from you and your men.”
    “ Baba, ” Lydia muttered. “I will be alright.”
    “I will hear it from the ambassador.” The man’s eyes never left Rhys.
    Rhys saw where Lydia got her boldness from. “Sir, I will personally see to Lady Dimothenis’ every need. No harm will come to her on my watch.”
    “Nor mine.” Nikolaos strode down the embankment, flanked by four guards wheeling a cart piled high with luggage. Dressed for travel, he wore a shorter red robe and dark trousers. “King Sabba insists that Lydia not travel alone. I will accompany her.”
    Rhys heard Lydia’s soft gasp. Her father squared off against Nikolaos.
    “What agenda do you have, Lord Abeiron?”
    “That of King Sabba’s, Hector. I am her appointed guardian. If you don’t believe me, ask His Majesty.”
    Rhys saw the king of Aspasia come down to shore, flanked by ten guards.
    Nikolaos wore a satisfied smile as he motioned for the palace guards to bring his trunks forward. “Kindly direct them to my guest cabin, Ambassador Cartret. They will also need accommodations.”
    “There are no guest cabins.” Rhys held his peace in front of Aspasia’s king, although he wanted very