The Cogsmith's Daughter (Desertera #1)(26)

Aya took a long sip of her wine. She had not grown accustomed to the dryness it created on her tongue and throat, but she kept drinking anyway. She had heard from the girls at the Rudder whose clients brought them wine that, if you drank enough of it, you felt warm and happy and didn’t care about all the bad things anymore. Aya wondered how much she would have to drink to get to that point. Unfortunately, she reached the end of her glass. She set it down on the table and readied herself to speak. “As I said when I walked in, my attempts were positively futile.”

“Yes, we understand that.” Madam Huxley sighed. “But if you explain your actions in more detail, we may be able to figure out exactly what you did wrong.”

“And how we can improve for next time.” Lord Varick reached over to pat Aya on the knee. His touch brought her mind back to Willem, and she felt her face flush. Aya hoped they would see her reddening as a product of the wine.

“Very well.” Aya took a deep breath. “I positioned myself in the round room, and as you instructed, I took interest in one of the objects. My back was to the doorway, and when King Archon came in, I turned around with a flourish.”

“What do you mean by ‘flourish?’” Madam Huxley placed her hand over her mouth.

Aya furrowed her eyebrows. “I flipped my hair and smiled.”

Madam Huxley snickered.

Lord Varick glared at the madam. “And next?”

“We talked about the object briefly before he informed me that I was near his private chambers. I pretended to be lost and innocent, and I sat down on the fainting couch to better position myself. I thought he may sit next to me to visit, but he wanted me gone. I stood up and tried to flirt, but he ordered me to leave.”

“How did you position yourself on the couch?” Madam Huxley leaned forward. From the smug smile on her face, Aya knew the madam was dying to pick apart her every mistake.

“The way Dellwyn taught me.” Aya hoped bringing up Madam’s rising star would gain her a little more credit. “I arched my back to accentuate my curves. I played with my hair, touched my chest—you know how it goes.”

Madam Huxley pursed her lips. “You must have been too exaggerated in your movements. Subtlety is key, Aya.”

“Miss Aya does not seem to be one for subtlety,” Lord Varick chimed in, mercifully refilling her glass.

“Thank you, Varick, for the wine.” Aya took a small drink, finally feeling warmth spreading from her belly.

“And what did you do upon standing?” Madam Huxley asked.

“Oh.” Aya blushed. “I touched his face.”

Madam Huxley’s eyes bulged, and she had to place her hand over her mouth to keep from spewing her wine over the table. She swallowed hard, her face twisting up. “You touched the face of the king? When he clearly had no interest in you?”

“I more of, um, stroked his beard.” Aya looked down at her feet.

Madam Huxley threw her head back and guffawed. “Oh, Aya, I thought you would have learned something over the last ten years.”

Lord Varick raised his hand to silence the madam’s laughter. “In Miss Aya’s defense, there is not much flirting, let alone subtlety, required at your place of business. I’m sure all the Rudder’s clients enter wanting more than their beards stroked.”

Aya smiled at Lord Varick. Once again, his wit and compassion had come to her rescue.

“Indeed,” Madam Huxley conceded. “I suppose any lack of technique is not Aya’s fault. She’s never desired to move up in rooms, and therefore, I never gave her any proper training.”

Lord Varick glanced at Aya, and she shrugged. “I never thought I would need it.”

Lord Varick sighed. “There is nothing we can do now. Best not to dwell in the past.” He leaned forward. “Anyway, Miss Aya, how did you leave the king?”

“He ordered me to leave his private area,” Aya replied, straight-faced.

“Did you respond at all?” Lord Varick widened his eyes. “Did you apologize?”

“No.” Aya had to pause to rein in her indignation before it contaminated her entire statement. “I simply said, ‘My mistake’ and left.”

“At least you did one thing right.” Madam Huxley patted the arm of the couch. “The moment you act weak, he’ll be done with you.”

Lord Varick tapped a gloved finger against his chin. “It seems that all is not lost. Miss Aya clearly annoyed the king with her intrusion, but she maintained her act of innocence and kept her head held high. However, I think we can all agree that some training is in order.”

Aya and Madam Huxley both nodded, the latter much more enthusiastically.

“Madam Huxley, what is your recommendation?”

The madam placed her empty wineglass on the table, leaned back in her chair, and tapped the ends of her fingers together. “Firstly, we shall make sure you receive a bath and are perfectly groomed for next week’s ball. This way, the next time King Archon sees you, you will be fresh and radiant.”

Aya’s mouth dropped open—partly at the prospect of a proper bathing and partly at the notion that Madam Huxley thought Aya could be attractive.

“As for your education,” Madam Huxley continued, “I shall have Dellwyn assist us. I assume that you have already informed her of this plan?”