The Cogsmith's Daughter (Desertera #1)(51)
When she was still, Willem rolled off of her and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Now, wasn’t that worth your patience?”
Aya laughed, sliding down the bed to Willem and kissing his neck. His skin tasted salty, holy. She sat on top of his stomach, straddling him, and reached behind herself to unfasten his trousers. At least one skill from her previous life came in handy tonight. Aya stared down into his hazel eyes as her hand finally reached its prize.
“Yes.” Aya stroked his length behind her. “But now I need more.”
Willem smiled and granted her wish—into the darkest hours of the night.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Aya dreamed she floated in the ocean. While she had never known the sensation of floating, in her dream, she felt light, as if her body could rest forever on the infinite drops of water. At the same time, her heart pounded, alerting her that, at any moment, her body could become heavy and slip under the water until she could no longer feel the warmth of, nor see the light from, the sun above her. Aya shivered as her feet dipped below the water’s surface, then her ankles, then knees. Before she could slide any further, she opened her eyes.
At first, Aya thought she might truly be drowning. All around her lay waves of blue, her feet tangled in their softness. But something else wrapped around her, too—Willem’s arm, draped over her midsection. With that realization, Aya smiled, the lightness returning.
As Willem’s fingers flexed against Aya’s stomach, she realized that she had never actually slept with a man before. Aya snuggled closer into Willem, relishing the connectedness, the peace of having another body against hers, breathing in rhythm with hers. She wanted to drown in his embrace forever.
The previous night, Aya had been too caught up in enjoying Willem to pay much attention to his room. Now, however, she fought off her waking haze by examining her surroundings. Willem’s room was in the interior of the palace, so it did not have any windows. Aya squinted in the dim light. Candles burned throughout the room, some affixed above electric lanterns that no longer worked without steam to power the palace. On the wall to the right of the bed stood a grand wardrobe with an oval mirror hanging next to it. The left-hand wall contained four tall bookshelves filled with books. In between the two pairs of bookshelves sat a plush couch, which Willem must have used for a reading area. Across from the bed stood the door, and next to it, a grandfather clock.
If Aya had any doubt about the wealth of the Collingwood family, it had vanished. To have so many books, to have a clock, meant money—and lots of it. Aya tried to relax in bed for a while longer, but the clock on the other side of the room called to her. She hadn’t had time to investigate the one near King Archon’s chambers, but now, if she were quiet, she might be able to sneak a look inside Willem’s. Aya gently lifted Willem’s arm, slid out from under it, and replaced it on the bed. She did not bother to gather a sheet to wrap around herself or put her toga back on. With any luck, she could examine the clock and slip back into bed before Willem awoke.
Aya tiptoed over to the grandfather clock. It stood slightly taller than her and was made of wood that matched Willem’s wardrobe. Like the one outside King Archon’s chambers, it had a plain white face with intricate black numbers. However, Willem’s clock had golden hands. The shorter one had stopped on the five and the longer one had stopped on the eleven.
The trunk of the clock had a glass panel in the front to show the long golden limbs of the mechanism hanging from the clock’s core. Aya wondered what exactly these did—her father had never told her about them. From her best guess, it looked like they would swing back and forth, perhaps keeping momentum so the clock would run for a long time. Obviously, the clocks in the palace had lost their pace at some point.
What fascinated Aya even more than the golden limbs was the glasswork behind which they hung. Unlike the glass pane in King Archon’s clock, which was perfectly clear, the glass on Willem’s clock contained carvings. Etchings of an intricate network of cogs and gears, each one fitting perfectly with the teeth of its neighbor, covered the glass. Aya wondered whether this were simply an artistic addition to the timepiece or some kind of map to the inside.
Aya reached up to the face of the clock and felt around the edges. There were no latches or keyholes to help her open it. She peered into it, wondering if maybe keyholes or other crank holes hid there. None. Aya crouched to examine the glass pane again. She ran her hands down the side of the clock’s body. About halfway down on the left side, her fingers caught a latch. Aya carefully unhooked it, swinging open the front of the clock’s trunk.
At the bottom of the clock’s insides rested a mess of cogs and gears, made in all different sizes and kinds of metals. There were also two large golden pieces, smooth and curved, and a silver winder. Aya wondered if they were part of the clock’s mechanics, if it were meant to be wound somewhere like the music boxes her father had repaired. She left the pieces in place and reached her hand inside to stroke the round orb hanging from the clock’s longest limb. Moving her fingers up to the shorter limbs, she rubbed the dangling chains between her fingers. She gave one of the chains a slight pull, delighted to hear the clock’s mechanism clicking as she did so.
“I could grow accustomed to waking up to this sight.”
Aya froze at the sound of Willem’s groggy voice. She realized that, from her position bent over the clock, all of her most womanly assets must be on display. Feeling the blood rush to her cheeks, Aya slowly stood up and fastened the clock’s door.