The Cogsmith's Daughter (Desertera #1)(19)

“Shall we greet Her Highness?” Varick asked.

“Yes, let’s.”

As they weaved their way through the throng of nobles, Aya examined Queen Zedara for the first time. She appeared to be only a few years older than Aya—in her late twenties, perhaps. King Archon was old enough to be her father. Poor thing. Queen Zedara had golden hair and soft, pale skin, but her lips and cheeks were bright pink. She practically glowed, as if she were the one creating the sunbeam, instead of the skylight high above her head. While Aya was not petty enough to worry that the queen was prettier than her—she had defeated those demons when she’d met Dellwyn—Aya worried that the queen’s beauty might make her job difficult. After all, why would King Archon ever desire her when his queen looked like a desert wildflower?

Varick stopped them at the base of the thrones. There were four small steps elevating the royal couple above the rest of the crowd. Varick bowed low, and Aya attempted her best curtsy, trying to remember how she’d been taught as a child. Her dip was fine, but her rise up was a little awkward with the stiff corset, and Varick had to gently press upward on her elbow to help her.

A small man stood to the right of the thrones holding a golden goblet, both his hands wrapped around the base of the bowl. He wore a tall, pointed hat and plain white robes. After Lord Varick and Aya finished their bows, the small man stepped forward with the cup and cleared his throat. “Your Majesties, Lord Varick, Marquess of the Stern.”

Lord Varick bowed again. “Your Highness, allow me to humbly welcome you into your new role. I am sure Desertera will flourish under your compassionate guidance and radiant beauty.”

Queen Zedara smiled, but King Archon remained frozen. His cold eyes kept darting between Lord Varick and Aya.

“Thank you for your kind words, Lord Varick. I know it must be difficult for you to see me where your daughter once sat, but take comfort that she is in a better place, where temptation can no longer touch her,” Queen Zedara replied.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Lord Varick said. “You were a wonderful friend to her, despite her crimes. I know you cared for her greatly.”

Queen Zedara looked down at her lap. “I did. Of course, I cannot imagine your loss as her father.”

“It has been difficult,” Lord Varick said.

“And this must be the young lady?” Queen Zedara raised her head and shivered as if waking up from a dream.

Aya blushed and looked at her feet.

“Yes, Your Highness.” Lord Varick placed his hand on Aya’s back, cuing her to step forward. “Allow me to introduce Miss Aya Wellman.”

Aya curtsied—this time smoothly and without assistance. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Highness. Thank you for allowing me to attend your special day. I am honored to be amongst those to greet my queen, and I wish you many long years on the throne.”

Aya wasn’t sure from where her eloquence had emerged, but she hoped it sounded proper. Varick looked at Aya with wide eyes and a sideways smirk. She had to purse her lips to keep from smiling. She had done well.

“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you, Miss Wellman.” Queen Zedara tilted her head to the side. Aya shifted her eyes to King Archon, but she still felt the queen’s gaze on her.

“Your Majesty.” Varick turned to the king. “Please allow me to congratulate you on your beautiful bride. I am certain she is the most splendid creature Desertera has ever seen.”

“That she is.” King Archon grinned, running a finger over the back of Queen Zedara’s hand. “With your dear daughter a close second, of course.”

“You’re too generous, Your Majesty. Only the noblest king would speak kindly of traitor like my daughter.”

King Archon inclined his head before turning his expectant gaze to Aya. She drew in a sharp breath. This was her moment. She imagined the king’s blood splattered on the floor, hoping the rage gave her a rosy glow, and the joy made her eyes sparkle.

“Your Majesty.” Aya curtsied. She clasped her hands together, squeezing her upper arms gently against her chest, making sure to bend over a little too far to expose an ample view of her décolletage. A classic Dellwyn move. “I am…I want…” She didn’t know where to begin. Whatever did a girl say when trying to seduce her father’s murderer?

“Yes, Miss Wellman?” King Archon’s voice cut through Aya’s thoughts, as sharp and gravelly as she remembered. It grated on her eardrums.

“I am speechless,” Aya offered. “I am so grateful for Lord Varick’s generosity, for it enables me to be in your presence. This is an honor that the people of my village never dream of, and I cherish it.”

The corner of the king’s thin lips raised in the faintest hint of a smile. “You are most welcome in this palace, Miss Wellman. Please enjoy yourself.”

Aya gave another quick curtsy. She felt like a towel whipped up and down by the breeze.

King Archon motioned to the small man. “Bishop, please.”

“Will you drink?” the bishop asked. The golden goblet clinked against his ring-clad fingers as he presented it to Lord Varick. Lord Varick took it, slipping the stem between his middle and ring fingers. He raised it to the queen and then to the king. “To your beauty, Your Highness. And to your long and prosperous rule, Your Majesty.”