The Cogsmith's Daughter (Desertera #1)(20)

The royals bowed their heads. Lord Varick put the goblet to his lips and took a gentle sip. He handed it to Aya, and she held it in both hands as the bishop had. She peered inside, relieved. It was only water.

“To your new life, Your Highness. And to your compassion and generosity, Your Majesty.”

Again, the royals nodded. Aya took a drink of the water. As the bitter flavor hit her tongue, she had to clamp her lips shut to avoid spitting it out. Her mouth puckered, her tongue writhed, and her throat burned a bit as she swallowed. She thrust the goblet back into the bishop’s hands.

“That is the strangest water I have ever tasted!” Aya gasped, licking her lips.

King Archon mirrored her gesture. “It is salt water, Miss Wellman.”

“Salt water?”

“Yes,” Lord Varick chimed in. “The great ocean was made of salt water. Whenever we gather in the palace to celebrate a new king or queen, we drink salt water to remind ourselves that, one day, our noble royals will once again lead us over the great ocean to a bountiful land.”

“Well then, my king.” Aya smiled. “Perhaps I should have toasted your navigation skills.”

King Archon chuckled and winked. Queen Zedara rolled her eyes.

“Will Prince Lionel be joining us?” Lord Varick asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Queen Zedara replied. “It seems he is a bit under the weather this afternoon.”

“Poor chap.” Lord Varick shook his head. “I am sure he will feel better by next week’s ball. After all, it is not like an eligible young prince to forgo an opportunity to socialize with young ladies.”

“I certainly hope he feels better soon,” Aya said. “I would very much like to meet Prince Lionel.”

“I am sure he will be delighted to meet you, Miss Wellman,” King Archon drawled, looking Aya up and down. Aya’s shoulders tensed. If the king were going to recognize her, it would happen now, as he admired her for the first time. When King Archon’s eyes completed two passes over Aya without showing any recognition, she released a long breath.

Lord Varick cleared his throat. “Your Majesty, I am afraid it would be rude of us to steal any more of your time. Again, Your Highness, my congratulations and best wishes.”

“And mine as well,” Aya added. “It was lovely to meet you both.”

Queen Zedara smiled, her lips pressed firmly together.

“Until we meet again,” King Archon said, staring only at Aya.

Lord Varick took Aya’s arm and led her away from the thrones. With every step, she tightened her grip around his elbow. Varick must have noticed, but he didn’t let on, keeping his face even and greeting the various nobles as they passed. The nerve of King Archon. Sitting up there on his throne, taking compliments on his new wife as though she was some sort of trophy. And the way he looked at Aya! If he kept up such piggish behavior, Aya would have no problem setting him up for execution.

Aya tried to temper her breathing by gazing around the room. She saw many noblemen she recognized from working at the Rudder, but she’d never served any of them. She doubted any of them would remember glimpsing her in the hallway or through a cracked door, but even if they did, they could not reveal her identity without exposing themselves as adulterers. She searched the crowd for Lord Collingwood or Lord Derringher to see if she could get a look at their wives to report back to Dellwyn. Unfortunately, she didn’t see either of them. Perhaps they had already paid their respects to the queen. She made a mental note to look for them again at the ball—assuming she really did attend.

When they were back in the corner of the room, Lord Varick released her arm. “For a woman, you have quite a strong grip.”

Aya shrugged. “I do a lot of clinging in my line of work.”

Lord Varick laughed.

“How did I do?”

Lord Varick grinned, his eyes crinkling. “You did quite well, my dear. I would say the king already seems intrigued by you.”

“I had forgotten his voice.” A shudder slipped down her spine. “I thought I could hear it clearly in my nightmares, but it is much sharper in person. And his eyes, they pierce you.”

Lord Varick nudged her. “Some women find piercing eyes appealing.”

“And some women find piercing eyes a reminder of the ax that pierces through a man’s neck.”

Lord Varick’s eyes widened, and his lips curved into a smirk. “The more you speak your mind, Miss Aya, the more delightful you become. You really should be more open with your thoughts.”

Aya rolled her eyes. “I was taught to be open with nothing but my legs.”

“Ha! That is it!” Lord Varick clapped. “That fire! Keep that blazing, and King Archon and every other man in this palace will come crawling to you.”

Aya blushed. She hadn’t meant to be so forward, but seeing King Archon again ignited something in her—something she hadn’t been allowed to express when she’d been thrown out of her home and selling off her dresses for bread and washing noblemen’s seed off of pillows. She had been good. Mouth shut and legs open. She had allowed Madam Huxley to command her every action and Dellwyn to speak for her. No more.

This was her chance to reclaim her life, to get back her father’s shop, and finally attain justice for his death. She was going to take it or die trying.