The Cogsmith's Daughter (Desertera #1)(18)
As Aya entered the sitting room, she affixed what she hoped was a pleasant smile on her face. When Lord Varick saw her, he burst into laughter. “Oh, my dear Miss Cogsmith, you look absolutely ghastly in that ensemble!”
Aya picked at the side seam of her skirt. “Do I really look so terrible?”
Lord Varick put his hand over his heart. “Forgive me. I meant no offense. Please sit, dear.” He gestured to the couch across from him, and Aya sat, her spine straight as a corset stay.
“Let me try again,” Varick offered. “Miss Cogsmith, I apologize for adorning you in such a monstrosity of an outfit. However, for the ceremony today, I regret that you must wear my house colors, which always make for outrageous attire.”
Aya breathed a sigh of relief. “The ceremony?”
“Ah, yes. Phase One of Operation Kingly Entrapment. The ceremony today is in honor of the new queen, Queen Zedara. A few days after the coronation, the king and queen invite the noble families to pay respects and give well wishes to the new queen. You shall accompany me to this ceremony, and I shall introduce you to the royal couple as my ward, an orphan whom I have taken in out of the kindness of my heart. Partially true, of course.”
Aya raised her eyebrows. “I suspect we will not be using my real name?”
“Certainly not.” Lord Varick tapped his walking cane on the floor. “While I’m sure Archon would derive a perverse satisfaction at pursuing the orphan of one of his victims, the truth of your parentage would cause too much attention and suspicion. No, my dear, you shall be an inconspicuous Aya Wellman.”
“If I need to be hidden, why debut me in such a public way at all?”
“Well, as you know, the palace’s inhabitants are closely monitored due to the unparalleled amount of lustful heathens sneaking in to seduce the queens.” Lord Varick rolled his eyes. “Therefore, I must introduce you to the nobles so they do not question your presence among us. Besides, I do have a few allies who need to know you.”
Aya felt her face light up. “When shall I meet them?”
“Oh, my dear, you cannot. I simply cannot risk you mistaking an enemy for an ally or vice versa. You must be guarded. Act pleasant to everyone, but do not trust a soul in this palace. Even the people who I deign to call friends may betray me if King Archon offers the proper reward.”
Before Aya’s smile faded, Mrs. Lemot entered, carrying a silver tray full of bread, meat, and colorful balls like the ones Aya had seen long ago in the palace greenhouse. Lord Varick motioned for Aya to eat, so she picked up one of the balls, a purple one, and cautiously bit into it. Her mouth watered as the food’s juices washed over her tongue.
“A grape,” Lord Varick supplied. “More generally, they’re all fruit.”
“It’s spectacular!” Aya popped another grape into her mouth.
“You’ve never tasted fruit before? Truly?”
“Never.” Aya covered her mouth with her hand to hide both her half-chewed grape and her frown. “I saw it once—the day my father died, actually. A butler took me on a tour of the palace while my father tried to fix the prince’s bird. Alfred let me see the greenhouse, but I wasn’t allowed to taste any of the fruits.”
Before Lord Varick could express his pity, Aya picked up another ball, a dark red one, and popped it into her mouth. This one had a smaller, harder ball in the center. It hurt her teeth to try to chew it. She did not know whether to swallow it whole or spit it out.
“Expunge it, my dear.” Lord Varick held out his gloved hand, and Aya delicately dropped the ball into it. “That was a cherry. The hard part is called a pit.” Lord Varick shook his head, balling his hand into a fist. He beat it softly against his kneecap. “I’m so sorry, my girl. For everything he’s done to you.”
*
“Are you ready?” Lord Varick held out his arm to Aya.
“As ready as I shall ever be.” Aya placed her hand on the inside of Lord Varick’s elbow and took a deep breath. They stood outside the large metal doors of the throne room. Lord Varick told her they had once been shiny copper, but over time, they had aged to a pale green. Aya imagined her face matched the doors. While she’d felt comfortable and confident in Lord Varick’s rooms, now that they were here, a mere few dozen feet away from King Archon, she felt as if she might faint.
Lord Varick motioned to the guards, and they opened the doors. The throne room was filled with nobles—dukes and duchesses, counts and countesses, lords and ladies. There were more noble families than she realized; they nearly outnumbered the merchants in Portside. Aya couldn’t even see the thrones through the piles of curls and smokestack top hats. Varick led her over to the side of the crowd. From there, she finally spied her target, seated in the center of the room, alongside his newest bride.
King Archon looked almost exactly the same as he had when Aya was a child. The only change was that gray now speckled his pointed beard. Even in his seated position, the king still appeared tall and lean. He wore the same gold-decorated top hat with the cog pattern. Most unnerving, his blue eyes still pierced through everything he watched. From his perch, King Archon scanned the crowd, and when his gaze washed over Aya, she felt as if she’d been splashed with well water.
King Archon’s eyes did not linger on Aya. In fact, she wasn’t even sure whether he had looked at her at all or if he had simply been staring through the crowd. Lord Varick squeezed her arm and gave her a questioning look. Aya nodded. She was all right, really. If anything, seeing King Archon and his evil eyes again reinvigorated her, reminded her of the way he had looked at her with such disdain as she’d begged for her father’s life, as if she were a fly buzzing in his face.