The Cogsmith's Daughter (Desertera #1)(47)
Aya didn’t know what to think. She kept walking, wending her way through the palace’s winding corridors, smiling pleasantly at drunken and jovial nobles as they passed. Thankfully, she did not spy Lord Varick amongst the merrymakers. However, she did finally see Lord Collingwood, stumbling down the hallway supported by a tall, thin woman—the mysterious Lady Collingwood at last.
Aya stepped aside to allow the Collingwoods more space in the narrow corridor. She had seen Lord Collingwood in passing at the Rudder, but watching him in his proper place made her heart skip, as if she had been caught peeking through his windows at night. Lord Collingwood’s hair had long turned gray, but it was thick. Like Willem’s, she thought. Aya also noticed Lord Collingwood had hazel eyes under his wiry eyebrows. Aya did not know much about the lord’s personality. Dellwyn had only told her that he was kind, generous in his gifts to her, and quite sprightly in bed for a man of his age. Aya already knew that Willem was a kind man, and she couldn’t help wondering if the vitality was a family trait.
Before her body turned entirely red, Aya distracted herself by examining Lady Collingwood. As the couple stepped around Aya, she observed that Lady Collingwood was over a head taller than her and had such a translucent complexion that Aya could see her veins peeking out from under the skin on her neck. Admittedly, Lady Collingwood had a regal prettiness to her with all the polish and adornments one expected of a woman of her station. However, she was the absolute antithesis of the dark-skinned, curvy Dellwyn. Aya imagined that Lord Collingwood had taken up with her friend for that exact reason. She made a mental note to report her findings the next time she saw Dellwyn.
After almost an hour of wandering, Aya found herself back at the statue of Queen Hildegard. She must have walked in a circle. Aya stood there, looking up at the immortalized queen for guidance and wondering how someone so fierce would have handled the night’s revelations.
Aya groaned. “Why are your descendants so idiotic?”
She hated this palace game. It was exhausting, always having to lie, never knowing if you could trust your allies enough to be honest with them. In Sternville, people were open with one another. Sure, you could get your feelings hurt rather easily that way, but at least you always knew where you stood with your neighbors. These palace politics—with the lies and manipulations and backhanded compliments—disgusted her. Madam Huxley had tried to warn Aya from the beginning, and Aya had ignored her words. She wouldn’t repeat this mistake with Queen Zedara’s warning. Aya was through.
She took a deep breath, her eyes still on Queen Hildegard. “Fine,” Aya whispered. “I have to play the game with Lord Varick. But I don’t have to play by his rules.”
Aya pulled off her mask and marched toward Lord Varick’s estate. The corridor seemed to close in around her as she walked, growing tighter and dimmer with each step. The pictures and tapestries on the wall shook in her peripheral vision, and she felt as if they would fall to the floor in her wake. As she passed each candle and lantern, the flames flickered with the breeze created by her movement, and she swore the light had a tint of red.
*
When she reached the black and purple door of Lord Varick’s estate, Aya didn’t bother to stand on ceremony. She simply let herself in, not caring for Mrs. Lemot to interrupt her current mission. She followed the short hallway to Lord Varick’s sitting room, and sure enough, the lord perched on the edge of the armchair. His mask sat on the table, but he still wore his top hat on his head and his walking staff lay across his lap. A fire blazed behind him, and when he noticed Aya’s entrance, she swore the flames blazed in his eyes, too.
“There you are, Miss Aya. I’ve been worried sick.” Lord Varick tutted. “Please tell me this means you had a little time with our noble King Archon after the ball.”
Aya sat on the couch facing the balcony and looked out into the night sky. “Funny you should say that. It was quite the opposite. After I left the masquerade, I had a rather lengthy discussion with the queen.”
Lord Varick’s entire body stiffened. He straightened and put the end of his staff on the floor, as if it would keep him anchored upright. He followed Aya’s gaze out to the sky. “Did you? Whatever could she have had to discuss with you? Surely she is not bold enough to accuse you of flirting with the king. After all, he is the one who made advances on you this evening.”
Aya snickered. “Actually, she accused me of not working fast enough to seduce him.”
Lord Varick’s eyes turned to Aya. She stared back, wondering if the eyes really were the gateway to the soul, and if so, if Varick’s soul were really that black. “Queen Zedara told me everything, Varick. She told me that Isadona was her best friend and that you approached her with your vengeful plot after King Archon showed a fancy for her at Isadona’s funeral.”
Lord Varick stayed silent. Aya guessed he wanted to wait for all of her information so that he wouldn’t unnecessarily divulge any of his secrets.
“She also told me a very different story about Isadona and King Archon’s relationship.”
“Oh? What did she say?” Lord Varick fiddled with his staff, spinning it in a circle the way the old drills must have dug the wells, back when there was still enough water to run the steam machines.
Aya crossed her arms. “She said that Isadona did not fancy King Archon, but rather, she loved someone else. She told me that you forced Isadona to marry the king so you could connect your family line to the crown.”