The Cogsmith's Daughter (Desertera #1)(52)

“I’m sorry.” Aya smiled sheepishly. “I’ve never seen a grandfather clock this close before. I just had to get a better look at it.”

Willem propped himself up on his elbows, staring at her as if he saw her for the first time. His brown hair stuck up in all directions, and Aya noticed that his chin stubble had darkened overnight. His messy hair, along with his sleep-kissed eyes and lopsided smile, made something in Aya’s chest pang, and she blushed deeper under his scrutiny. Shaking his head, Willem patted the empty space beside him. Aya crossed the room and crawled back into her place. Once she was under the covers, Willem lifted his arm so Aya could curl up against him and rest her head on his chest.

“Did you discover anything about the clock?” Willem tucked a single curl behind her ear.

“I think I might have an idea how to wind it.” Aya tapped her fingers on his chest. “But I’m not sure if it would be a permanent fix or if there is something else broken in the mechanism. I’ve never seen a working one before to know what to do.”

“I had no idea you were so fascinated by mechanics.” Willem chuckled. “A wellman’s daughter with a mechanical frog and a clock fetish. Whoever heard of such a thing?”

Aya’s breath hitched. In her most casual tone, she managed, “Oh, well, I don’t really know much of anything. I just think the old machines are interesting.” A bit of venom crept into her voice. “Just because I come from Sternville, that doesn’t mean I’m an imbecile.”

Willem squeezed her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to imply that you were uneducated. Clearly, I’m the ignorant one for making assumptions.”

Aya nodded, her pride still aching. “It’s fine. Tell me more about the clock.”

“Hmm.” Willem ran his fingers through her hair. “Well, it used to work. It never kept the proper time, but it at least ticked, and the hands spun around the face. The other ones in the palace haven’t worked in decades.”

“When did yours quit working?”

Willem rubbed at the scruff on his chin. “Oh, ten years ago, maybe. It’s been broken since I was a child.”

Aya glanced back over at the lifeless clock. “I know how it feels,” she whispered.

“None of that.” Willem kissed the crown of her head. “Speaking of clocks,” he continued, “What time do you think it is? Do you want me to call for some breakfast?”

“Breakfast!” Aya gasped, jumping out of bed and scrambling for her toga. Out of the corner of her eye, Aya saw Willem push the flung-aside covers out of his face. “Willem, I’m so sorry. I forgot. I have an important meeting after breakfast. I really can’t miss it.”

Willem untangled himself the rest of way and moved to help Aya gather her clothing. “It’s fine. Slow down. We don’t even know what time it is. It’s probably not even sunrise yet.”

“No, no,” Aya groaned, shoving her feet into her shoes. “I shouldn’t have stayed here. If anyone sees me, it’ll ruin everything.”

Her fingers fumbled with the fabric of her toga. Willem took it from her, helping her drape it around her shoulders. “Aya, neither of us is married. Your reputation as a lady won’t be ruined if someone happens to spy you leaving my room.”

“No, no—it’s not that.” Aya wrapped her hair up in the headscarf and patted her toga as if she had forgotten something. She looked down at the red fabric then over to her crumpled nightdress in horror. “Shit!”

Aya didn’t have anything else to wear. She might have a spare ensemble tucked away in her room at the Rudder—that was, if Madam Huxley hadn’t already cleaned it out. But, even if there were an outfit there, it would never be appropriate for a day with the king. Maybe one of the other girls had something she could borrow.

“What?” Willem grabbed her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “Aya, seriously, what is the matter?”

“I don’t have any other clothes.” Aya’s eyes widened, her panic increasing as she spoke her problem. “I can’t wear these to my meeting, and everything else I own is at my house in Sternville.”

Willem’s brow furrowed. “What about Lord Varick’s estate? Surely he clothes you as his ward.”

Aya bit her lip, unsure how to explain. “I’m not his ward anymore. Not exactly.”

Willem frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Willem, please. I begged you not to ask last night. Please don’t ask now.” Aya took Willem’s face in her hands and kissed him. He reached around her back to pull her closer, but she pushed him away before he could deepen the kiss. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

“No.” Willem kept her locked in his arms.

“Willem, I must.” Aya pushed on his chest. “I have to go home and change.”

“No, you don’t.” Willem released her, smiling. “I can help.”

Willem went over to the wardrobe and opened the bottom drawer. Aya craned her neck to see what he searched for. Inside lay rows of bright fabric in every color Aya could imagine. Willem glanced over his shoulder at her and appraised her figure before removing two handfuls of the fabric. He shook them out to reveal two floor-length dresses. “Yellow or blue?”

Aya admired both dresses. The yellow one reminded Aya of the sun—vibrant, warm—with long sleeves and loose layers of fabric that stretched like rays from the corseted bodice. The blue dress matched Willem’s bedding and consisted of a thicker, more structured fabric. Its neckline was wide and scooping, and paired with its brown leather external corset, Aya knew it would accentuate the few curves she had. And, she loved the way the blue looked next to Willem’s golden eyes.