Tethered (Novella) - By Meljean Brook Page 0,2

you collect your post in Port Fallow; he would simply discover the boardinghouse directions from another of your acquaintances. And knowing Mr. Bilson, you will not find a letter waiting for you, but the man himself. You will easily recognize him; he is as handsome and as charming as ever, and likely just as inconstant.

Forgive me. I know he was your friend. Perhaps my bitterness is disproportionate to his sin—but I once held him in such high regard, and cannot forget my disappointment upon learning how quickly he abandoned you. But do not fret, brother. If there is but one aspect of his sudden reappearance for which I am grateful, it is learning that he no longer poses a danger to my emotions.

Perhaps this means my heart has grown as steely as Captain Corsair’s—not that it did her much good.

With all the love that my icy, hardened heart can manage,

Zenobia

P.S. I have had opportunity to read through a few of the letters in your packet, and I beg you, Archimedes, and I beg Captain Corsair, too—please take a little more time before killing the people who threaten you. Aside from descriptions of their clothing and their death throes, you leave me with absolutely no impression of their characters. Can you not chat with them a bit before shooting? If not, soon I shall be forced to title every adventure Lady Lynx and the Hair-Triggered Buffoon.

Chapter 1

Chat with them a bit? Grinning, Archimedes folded Zenobia’s note. Of course his sister knew that taking time for a chat also gave someone the opportunity to carry out their threat—just as she knew that making Archimedes laugh was the easiest way to reassure him that the disappointed feelings she’d revealed weren’t a source of any suffering now.

He didn’t doubt her resilience. Still, a visit wouldn’t be amiss. Fladstrand was only half a day’s flight from Port Fallow aboard most airships—and faster aboard a skyrunner.

Automatically, his gaze went to the opposite side of the boardinghouse’s tiny attic room, where the afternoon sun streamed into the garret through a small window. Beyond the cracked pane lay a view of Port Fallow’s docks. Boats crowded the harbor, their tall masts and branching spars resembling a bare, wintry forest rolling gently over the water. Two dozen airships floated in the brilliant blue sky above them, their wooden cruisers suspended beneath white balloons, as if dangling from dense clouds.

Lovely ladies, all of them. Archimedes only had eyes for one.

Sleek and swift, Lady Nergüi had been tethered along the south dock—directly over the spot where her predecessor had fallen earlier that year. That skyrunner’s charred bones lay at the bottom of the harbor now, and though it was impossible to see them, he knew that Yasmeen felt their presence as keenly as she would a harpoon through her gut. He couldn’t imagine what it had cost her to tether Lady Nergüi in the same location, where the newly rebuilt dock’s clean boards served as a constant reminder of her airship’s demise. But he also understood that Yasmeen would never allow her lady to be tethered anywhere else, not while the loss of that airship and crew was still so sharp.

Archimedes had hated leaving her there alone, even for a short run to the boardinghouse. After they’d docked that morning, he’d delayed his departure as long as possible. He couldn’t prevent her from feeling any pain, but he could stand beside her through it.

Of course, as soon as Yasmeen had realized why he was waiting to disembark, she’d laughed and told him to go. And he’d gone, because although their fights were always entertaining and would serve as a distraction for her, an argument wasn’t the sort of support that he wanted to provide now. He’d use this jaunt into Port Fallow as an opportunity to find something to help her ease the ache. Zenobia’s manuscript was the perfect start. A visit to the silversmith’s would hopefully offer more.

He added his sister’s note to the pile of envelopes on the desk, then grabbed up the whole lot and began stuffing them into his shoulder pack. Zenobia had marked the most recent letter as an express, and so he had immediately read it, but he would have to spend the better part of a week to make his way through the rest of the correspondence.

“Oh, it is you!” The exclamation came from behind him. “Is everything as it should be, Mr. Fox?”

He looked toward the open door. The house matron stood on