The Cogsmith's Daughter (Desertera #1)(13)
Aya rolled toward him and cupped her hands over her face to shield herself from the light. However, when she opened her eyes, it was still pitch black. Only the lantern Papa had placed on her dressing trunk lit her room.
“What’s going on?” she mumbled, digging the crust from the inside corners of her eyes.
“How would you like to go to the palace today?”
Aya sat straight up. “The palace? Can we really?”
“Of course, we can.” Papa put his fists on his hips and puffed out his chest. “King Archon’s guards were just here. It seems Prince Lionel’s pet bird is broken, and they need the best cogsmith in all of Desertera to repair her.”
“Papa.” Aya laughed and poked his chest. “You’re the only cogsmith in Desertera.”
Her father’s chest deflated, but he kept his back straight and his smile wide. “Exactly. That’s why I’m the best!”
Aya chuckled and rolled her eyes.
“Now, come on. Get yourself dressed and to the breakfast table. King Archon expects us there in an hour.”
“Are you sure it’s all right that I come?”
Papa nodded. “Of course. I asked the guards, and they said it would be fine. They’re going to find a butler to take you around to look at the ship’s interior. You can see every inch of it and tell me how you think it was made.”
“I’ll give you a full report.” Aya smiled. Papa moved the lantern to the floor and went back to the kitchen. Aya dressed in her nicest, and only, silk dress. She put on her cleanest black shoes and pulled her hair back into a low bun to contain her wild brown curls. When she was finished, she went over to the other side of her bed and picked up Charlie off the floor.
“Too slow today, buddy,” she joked, loosening his winder so he wouldn’t wake up and hop his way into the wall. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell you all about it.”
Instead of placing Charlie back on the floor, Aya took him to the corner of her room. She couldn’t figure out why, but her stomach felt queasy at the idea of being so far away from him. Normally Aya was just in her father’s shop or down the street running errands and visiting with the other merchants. Running her fingers along the edges of the floorboards, Aya felt for the loose one. As her fingers wiggled its edge, she pried it up with her nails and nestled Charlie in the small hole beneath the floor.
“I’ll take you out the second I get home.”
Aya pressed the floorboard back into place, feeling the churning in her stomach switch from nerves to grumbling hunger.
Aya and her father ate breakfast quickly. Aya had a thousand questions about the palace, and she tried to ask them between mouthfuls of eggs and bacon, but Papa kept telling her to eat and wait. When they left the house, Aya’s interrogation started anew. She asked Papa all about the craftsmanship of the palace, if the inside would be made of the same dark metal as the exterior. She asked about Prince Lionel’s bird and if it was made the same way as Charlie and if Papa really thought he could fix it.
“I will certainly do my best.”
Aya took in the length of the palace. The sun was beginning to rise over the sand, and she watched the ship for any reflection of the light. She saw a faint glinting toward the bow, right above all that remained of the name, Hildegard. The letters H-I-D-E and the curve of the R illuminated in orange sunlight.
The guards called up to their fellows working the drawbridge, and it slowly lowered for Aya and her father and the merchants’ delivery boys who were expected at the palace this morning. Aya had watched this ritual happen several mornings from the edge of Portside, but she had never gotten to be part of it before. She stood on her tiptoes, craning her neck to observe the bridge’s mechanism. Papa smiled down at her and readjusted his grip on his toolbox.
As the bridge reached the ground, Aya and her father gave the main guard their names and were ushered inside. The palace was even bigger than Aya expected. They entered into a wide, open room with dark green iron columns in the shape of a capital I holding up the ceiling. The walls were lined with doors, some iron, some wood, each one presumably going to a hallway or an even bigger room. Castas, the cobbler’s delivery boy, had once told her that the palace was like a maze. If you took even one wrong turn, you could be lost within it for days. Seeing all these doors now, Aya understood what he’d meant.
In the middle of the room stood a line of servants: maids in cloud gray uniforms with crisp white aprons and butlers in black suits with white shirts and gloves. The maid and butler on the left-hand end of the line stepped forward to greet Aya and her father.
“Master Cogsmith.” The maid extended her hand for Aya’s father to shake. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. Prince Lionel is absolutely distraught at the malfunctioning of his dear Penelope.”
Papa smiled and patted his toolbox. “It’s no problem at all. I’m happy to help however I can.”
The maid nodded.
“And you must be Miss Aya Cogsmith.” The butler placed his hands on his knees to squat down to her eye level. It was a bit insulting, given that she was thirteen, but then again, she was rather short.
“I hear that you would like a tour of the palace. Is that correct?”
Aya grinned. “Yes, sir.”
“All-righty then.” The butler returned her smile. “How about I show you around, and in a few hours, we’ll go to Prince Lionel’s quarters and check in on your father?”