The Cogsmith's Daughter (Desertera #1)(39)

Aya looked Lord Varick in his dark eyes as she placed a square of cheese on her cracker and popped both into her mouth. “My corset is the one thing about tonight that does not trouble me. Nor should it you.”

Lord Varick opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by Mrs. Lemot entering the room. She had a long black bag draped over both her arms. A smaller bag, this one made of red silk, perched on top of the black one.

“Miss Aya, your dress and mask have arrived.”

“Well then.” Aya stood up and dusted cracker crumbs off the front of her dress. “I do think it is time to put that corset to work.”

Aya followed Mrs. Lemot into her bedroom. Mrs. Lemot untied the garment bag to reveal a floor-length satin dress. The color struck Aya first—it reminded her of blood, a rich, deep red, one that resonated beneath her skin and sent her veins throbbing. She loved it.

As she put the dress on, Aya traced her fingers along the fabric, feeling the boning of a corset constructed into the bodice. Criss-crossing black laces adorned the front of the bodice, woven through silver eyelets. The dress had a high collar, but the chest was cut open to reveal Aya’s entire décolletage. The neckline, lined in black lace, swooped low, a bit lower than Aya thought was proper. At the hips, the dress expanded out into the shape of a bell. It was breathtaking.

With Mrs. Lemot’s help, Aya put on black silk stockings and low black heels. Once the maid had arranged Aya’s brown curls into a sophisticated bun, she unveiled Aya’s mask. The mask looked like bird wings. The feathers around Aya’s eyes were black, and they gradually faded into maroon then scarlet toward the tips of the wings. It covered the area around Aya’s eyes and cheeks, but the crown of her head and the tip of her nose down to her chin remained visible. The maid held up a looking glass for her. Aya knew that King Archon—and of course, Willem—would still be able to identify her, but the mask added the right amount of mystery.

When Aya emerged from her room, Lord Varick was also dressed. He wore the same amethyst velvet suit he had worn the night he came to the Rudder. His mask contained two parts. Covering his eyes were a pair of black goggles. A metal plate adorned with bronze and silver cogs concealed his mouth and chin. Only his forehead and cheekbones remained exposed. Aya thought he looked like some kind of mechanical monster.

“Miss Aya, you look absolutely ravishing!” Lord Varick’s voice was muffled behind his mask, making his exclamation throaty and deep.

“Thank you.” Aya forced herself to smile. “Your mask is quite interesting. I’ve never seen one in two pieces before.”

Lord Varick tapped his temples and his chin. “This way, my expressions are entirely my own.”

Aya repressed a shudder. “Shall we go? I’m ready to get on with the evening.”

“So anxious, Miss Aya.” Lord Varick held out his arm. She took it, making a point to stare into the dark panes of glass over his eyes.

“Yes, yes, let us go,” he continued. “I would hate to keep the king waiting on his destiny.”



*



When Aya and Lord Varick arrived outside of the ballroom, noblemen and women already filled the room. The short bishop greeted Aya and Lord Varick. Aya wondered if he were the only religious figure in the palace and why exactly he was involved in every noble gathering.

This evening, the bishop held a large, steel scepter with a golden cog as its topper. As Aya and Lord Varick passed through the doors, the bishop banged his staff against the marble floor three times. “Lord Varick, Marquess of the Stern, and Miss Aya Wellman, his ward.”

Some nobles stopped dancing to peer through the crowd, no doubt wondering why on earth Lord Varick, a widowed and now childless man, would have taken on a ward. However, most of the nobles kept to their dancing and drinking, much too caught up in the merrymaking to pay attention to who came in with whom.

Lord Varick led Aya behind the procession of other newly arrived nobles to greet the royal family, who perched atop a platform in the middle of the room. King Archon sat in the middle throne, raised an extra step. Queen Zedara sat to his left, but the throne to his right was empty. At the sight of the empty throne, Aya scoffed. No doubt Prince Lionel was off with his little redhead or some other girl looking to play princess.

The dancers twirled around the royal family’s raised platform in couples and quartets. They weaved in and around the line of waiting nobles, the ladies’ skirts brushing up against the standers’ ankles as they twirled by. Aya couldn’t help looking around at these fine people in their fine clothes with their elaborate masks and full cups and think how unfair, how wasteful it all was. People in Sternville would kill for the drops of water mixed in with the nobles’ fruit juices and alcohol.

When King Archon motioned for Aya and Lord Varick to step forward, Aya put on her most neutral face. Dellwyn had told Aya to keep playing uninterested until the king came to her, which was about all the civility Aya could manage after the trial. Dellwyn had assured Aya, over and over again, that the king’s curiosity and ego would eventually overcome his pride.

“Your Highness.” Lord Varick bowed. “You make the most adorable bunny rabbit.”

It was true. Queen Zedara looked fetching in her white bunny mask with its long, pointed ears—one sticking straight up toward the sky, the other coyly cocked in half. She reminded Aya of the talking animal fairy tales Papa used to tell her.