The Cogsmith's Daughter (Desertera #1)(41)

Once Aya had made her way halfway around the room to a spot directly behind the thrones and in front of the band, someone lightly tapped her shoulder. Aya turned, only to be greeted by the tall frame and warm hazel eyes of Willem, peering out at her from behind the golden frog mask she’d admired in Abrim’s shop.

“Aya.” Willem took her hand and placed it against the frog’s lips. His voice sounded deeper behind the frog mask, but the change in tone was softer, unlike the hollow rasps produced behind Varick and King Archon’s disguises.

“Willem.” Aya smiled.

“I am surprised to find you alive and well.”

Aya snatched her hand away from his grasp. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“Because,” he said, gently retaking her hand, “I cannot believe Queen Zedara would allow a woman whose beauty so vastly outshines hers to breathe in her presence.”

Aya gave him an exaggerated eye roll. “I see you are as ridiculous as ever this evening.”

Willem smirked. “I believe you mean as astute as ever.”

Aya laughed. “I take it you are here to claim your dance?”

“Ah, so we are both astute.” Willem lifted the hand he already held to shoulder height, took her other hand, and placed it on his shoulder. He wrapped his free arm around her waist, pulling her a bit closer to him than was appropriate. Aya glanced at the other dancers, who were executing a synchronized rendition of the Hildegard waltz.

“We’re supposed to be waltzing,” Aya hissed. Willem was leading them through a slow, close dance—one that Lord Varick’s maid had not taught her. He laughed and released her waist, sending her into a single spin then clutching her back to his body.

Aya felt her face pale. “Willem, people are staring.”

He kept his eyes on hers. “I don’t see anyone else.”

Aya knew he meant to be charming, but the attention they attracted made her nervous. The more eyes that fell on her, the more likely it became that someone would recognize her—either now, as the cogsmith’s daughter, or later, as King Archon’s latest pursuit.

“Stop staring back at them.” Willem squeezed her hand. “You’re giving them too much satisfaction.”

Aya forced herself to look up at Willem.

“How do you like the mask Abrim made for you?”

“It’s gorgeous.” Aya wrinkled her nose. “Strange but gorgeous.”

“Do you know what you are?”

Aya shrugged. “A bird?”

Willem laughed. “You, love, are not just any bird. You are a phoenix.” He placed a finger on the bridge of her nose, where the mask was black. He traced it upward to the tip of the wings. “Rising from your own ashes to bring your fire to a new life.”

“That’s beautiful,” Aya whispered.

Willem winked, returning his hand to her back.

“And I see you have chosen my frog mask. What is the symbolism in that?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.” Willem gave her another spin, and Aya watched the crowd of onlookers and other dancers flash before her eyes in a blur of color and distorted faces.

“What do you mean?” she asked when she was back in Willem’s arms again.

“Why did you want this mask? Did it mean something to you?”

Aya sighed. “When I was growing up, I had a mechanical frog toy. I adored it dearly, as if it were a real pet. My father had to remind me not to feed it sometimes.”

“What happened to him?” Willem traced his fingers along her spine.

Aya paused, trying to keep her spine from shivering and her face neutral. She doubted Willem shared the king’s interest in the vortric cog, but she did not know him well enough to trust him with any information about Charlie.

“Oh, I don’t know. I hid him away somewhere and never found him again.” As the lie slipped through her lips, Aya’s stomach twisted. She liked Willem. He had been a good friend—if that’s what he was—to her, but she could not risk divulging anything too close to the truth.

“No, your father.” Willem shook his head. “I’m sorry. That was rude. It’s not my business to know how you came into Lord Varick’s care.”

“It’s fine.” Again, Aya paused, a heavy sensation in her gut. “My father died when I was thirteen. I’ve been laboring to get by ever since. Lord Varick took pity on me, maybe because I remind him of his own daughter.”

Willem pursed his lips. “Is that a good thing?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Aya’s brow furrowed. “Lord Varick loved his daughter very much, and now he is showing me kindness in her honor.”

Willem’s eyes scanned Aya’s face, but he didn’t say anything more. They danced in silence for a few moments.

“May I ask about your mother?” Willem’s eyes were soft, and he rubbed Aya’s back as he asked the question.

Aya bit her lip. “She died giving birth to my younger brother. He died then, too. I don’t remember her well, but my father used to tell me stories. He said I was growing up to look just like her.”

Willem smiled. “That’s nice. It must make you feel connected to her somehow, to know that whenever you stare into a mirror, a face very much like hers is staring back.”