Heart of Steel - Meljean Brook [83]
She thought of Archimedes, and an unfamiliar ache bloomed in her chest. Would she be willing to risk the same for the right man? One who knew her now, better than anyone else ever had. But that wouldn’t be risking pain; it would be risking her heart, exposing her belly. Yasmeen didn’t know if she could do that—even if, like Archimedes, she wanted to.
And she didn’t.
Bigor locked the chest. “But you aren’t here for Durand.”
“No. It’s about tomorrow, and the pass. Mr. Fox and I have been discussing strategy—and we agree that our first priority is avoiding notice from the Horde outpost.”
He nodded once—his default response for any statement, apparently. “And you need me to put it forth to Guillouet.”
“Yes. Hassan has already heard and approved it, but the captain might want another opinion.”
Bigor undoubtedly understood the rest: Another opinion, as long as it wasn’t hers or Archimedes’. He nodded.
“The Horde outpost is directly across the valley from the old fortress. We plan to come in the early morning, before dawn—sailing straight through, and using the gliders so that Ceres doesn’t have to stop and hover. But once we’re in the fortress, we won’t be able to see if the Horde has noticed and if they’re coming.”
“So you want us to stay on Ceres and keep watch.”
“Yes.” If the Horde came, it wouldn’t matter if two were at the fortress, or five. But three skilled men on Ceres might make all the difference. “If she sails farther down the valley, she can hide out of the Horde’s line of sight, but you’ll still be able to see if they begin to cross the valley. If they do, Ceres can fire her engines and reach us before the Horde. With the three of you on watch, Mr. Fox and I won’t have to keep looking out the windows—and we’ll go through the fortress more quickly. We’ll be picked up after nightfall on the second day. The new moon will help conceal the balloon—and if we need the cargo lift, it’ll be there.”
He nodded. “And so will we.”
She went above decks, where the wind cleared her head, allowed her to think of absolutely nothing but the mountains passing beneath her feet, the route they were taking south. Ceres was a good ship, bucking the wind with barely a sway. Nothing like her lady had been, but solid. When Guillouet was finished flying or dead, she would serve another captain, and perhaps another. Hopefully, she’d be treated well, loved, and serve many more.
Near the end of the afternoon watch, she reluctantly started for the ladder. She couldn’t remain up on deck all day. She passed one of the Vashons—with his black eye hidden under his goggles, she couldn’t tell if it was Peter or Paul—and acknowledged him with a nod.
“How goes the sky, Captain?”
Yasmeen almost missed a step, so great was her shock. Even on a mercenary ship, his familiar address was a severe break of protocol. But she’d sensed no enmity from either twin the evening before; he might have simply been pushing to see her reaction. She wouldn’t give him one—and he wasn’t hers to discipline. Smoothly, she turned her stumble into a pause, and responded as if he’d addressed her formally. “Very well, Mr. Vashon.”
She continued on and had to stifle her groan when Guillouet abandoned the quarterdeck and intercepted her near the ladder.
Quietly, he said, “You will not speak with my crew, Mrs. Fox.”
Her brows lifted. Ordering her about was the surest way to make her do the opposite.
His jaw was tight. “I’d heard rumor that you’ve been stirring up my men with talk of low wages.”
Was that what this was about? Fuck. Though it rasped against her pride to do it, she said, “If there is any talk, Captain, it was in your favor. In conversation, they asked what percentage I gave. I told them fifty percent. Less than you.”
Satisfaction briefly loosened the tension in his features. He had his own pride, and discovering that he paid a higher percentage than Lady Corsair’s captain obviously soothed