The Cogsmith's Daughter (Desertera #1)(49)
“Good luck, Miss Aya. You’ll need it.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
As the black door of Lord Varick’s estate slammed behind her, Aya placed a hand over her chest, sensing a hollowness lurking beneath her fingertips. She hadn’t felt this alone since the day her father had been killed. Yet, for the first time in ten years, Aya held no worries about her future. Unlike when Papa died, Aya was no longer a helpless little girl. She had a mission, a tangible way to obtain justice for her father. She had a friend in Dellwyn and potentially more than a friend in Willem. She had secured the repossession of her father’s shop and, consequently, a future without the Rudder. No matter what happened, she would be fine. She would pick herself up and take care of herself the way she always had. She didn’t need some lying, self-absorbed lord to hold her hand.
Aya strutted away from Lord Varick’s estate and headed toward the winding stairwell that led to the Rudder. She considered staying in her room there—assuming Madam Huxley had not already reassigned it to another girl—because it would prevent Aya from being spotted outside the palace and save her a long walk. However, if Aya were being honest with herself, she knew that she was far more likely to run into nobles at the Rudder than anywhere else. Therefore, she resolved to simply sneak in the back entrance, pop into Dellwyn’s room between clients, and have Dellwyn watch for the corridor and lobby to be empty so she could make her way back to their hovel unnoticed.
In her hands, Aya carried her phoenix mask, her nightdress, and her green cloak. She had left the masquerade dress and the ugly black and purple ensemble in her empty guest room, as she did not want Lord Varick to believe that she owed him for anything. However, she had elected to keep the red toga and wraps from the bathhouse. She couldn’t risk being caught in the corridor in her bedclothes, and at least the outfit had been a complimentary gift from the bathhouse and not something that Lord Varick had purchased directly. As for the mask, Aya remembered that Abrim had put it on Lord Varick’s account, but she didn’t care. She considered it her tip for being lied to.
As she walked, Aya stroked the mask’s feathers as if they belonged to a real bird, the rhythmic motion easing the tension in her chest. She wondered if phoenixes had ever existed, if they really could have burned to a crisp and emerged from their own ashes. She hoped they had. It was comforting to think that the world had once held such beauty and life, even if it couldn’t anymore.
Aya was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t see the person coming toward her. Just before she ran into him, the person reached out his arms and grabbed her by the shoulders to prevent their collision. Aya gasped, nearly dropping her mask, and looked up into warm hazel eyes. “Oh, Willem, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”
Willem laughed, allowing his hands to slip down from her shoulders to her elbows before dropping back to his side. “My apologies for startling you.”
Aya nodded. “Right. Well, have a good night.” She moved past Willem, her shoulder brushing against his. Before she had taken even ten steps, Willem darted after her.
When he reached her, Willem grabbed her arm. “Aya? It’s terribly late. Where are you going?”
Aya stopped, turning to face him. “Home.”
“Isn’t home that way?” Willem asked, releasing her and pointing in the direction he had originally been walking. Aya’s eyes followed the line of his finger back toward the estate.
She shook her head. “Lord Varick’s may be, but mine is not. Please, don’t ask. It’s been a long evening.”
Willem sighed, his brow furrowing. “Aya, I have to. Where is home?”
Aya clenched her jaw. As she craned her neck to look up at him, she felt like a defiant child. “Sternville. As it always has been.”
“Do you think it is safe for a young lady to be walking the streets of Sternville this late at night?”
Aya shrugged. “As safe as it is to walk the corridors of the palace.”
Willem gaped. “But at any moment a man could—”
“Appear out of nowhere and accost me with questions?”
“Among other things, yes.” Willem blushed. “I’m sorry for being overprotective, but I would feel better if you stayed here.”
Aya stared up at his eyes—so inviting, so sincere. She knew that he truly was concerned for her—unlike her benefactor, who evidently did not even care about the safety of his own daughter, or her queen, who seemingly only cared about her own safety. Not that Aya blamed her.
Aya turned her thoughts back to Willem. She allowed her eyes to fall to the floor in what must have looked like innocent thought. In truth, she was admiring his frame, the patch of skin peeking out from behind the laces of his shirt, the slight bulge under the buttons of his trousers.
Just as her eyes decided to linger a second too long, Willem took her hand. Aya inhaled sharply, feeling the lightning shock from his fingertips sizzle its way through her flesh. She felt a rising heat in her chest and a matching one between her thighs. His touch triggered reactions in her body that no touch from any client, from any other person, had ever created.
Maybe it was because she was too tired to walk all the way to Sternville. Maybe it was because he was the only attractive man who had ever shown genuine interest in her. Maybe it was because she was in a slightly vulnerable position combined with newfound confidence and indignation. And then again, maybe it was simply that she had known too much pain and never enough pleasure. Whatever it was, she let her tongue get the best of her. “And where exactly should I stay, Willem? With you?”