The Cogsmith's Daughter (Desertera #1)(53)

“Blue.”

Willem draped the dress across the bed and replaced the yellow one in the drawer.

“Where did you get all of these dresses?”

He walked to the other side of the bed and picked up his own clothing. “They were my mother’s.”

Aya touched her hand to her chest. “Willem, I can’t wear your moth—”

“Yes, you can.” Willem smiled, his eyes watery as he stared at her. “They are mine now, and I want you to.”

Aya wanted to dispute further, but she was desperate. She went to the bed and removed her toga. They dressed in silence.

At first, Aya held her breath, fearing that the silence would be uncomfortable, but eventually, she relaxed, finding it nice to simply exist alongside Willem. They moved fluidly around each other, each going about their own business. Aya fastened the brass buckles in the front of the corset herself, but when it came time to lace up the back, Willem stepped behind her and tightened and tied it for her as if he had done it every day of his life. The corset was a bit too tight the way he fixed it, but Aya guessed it would make her waist look incredibly tiny and help push up her small breasts. She took the liberty of checking her reflection in the looking glass. She was right.

Willem came up behind her and kissed her on the neck. “You are divine.”

Aya smiled. She began smoothing her hair and untangling her mess of curls. She didn’t have the right tools to fix it properly, but she hoped the king would find her slightly wild hair inviting. Willem’s reflection disappeared from the looking glass. It reappeared a moment later, a black velvet box in its hands. Aya turned around as he opened it.

Inside rested a golden barrette in the shape of a flower, with petals filled with rubies and leaves made of emeralds.

“Pull your hair back.”

Aya put her hands up in protest, but Willem widened his eyes and pursed his lips. Knowing an argument would be useless, Aya did as he commanded, gathering the top half of her hair behind her head. Willem reached up and fastened the barrette in place then gently fluffed up her curls around it. He loosened a lock of hair by her hairline so that a single curl dangled to the side of her face. “Perfect.”

“It’s too much, Willem.” Aya shook her head. “I can’t accept this.”

Willem rubbed Aya’s arms. “My mother would be proud to know you are wearing her jewels.”

A lump swelled in Aya’s throat. If Willem knew that she were about to go from his bed to King Archon’s side, he would not be lavishing her with these gifts. “You can’t say that. We barely know each other.”

“We may not know each other’s histories, but I know your character, and you know mine.” Willem took Aya’s hand, placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “You’re a good woman, Aya. My mother would have liked you.”

As Aya stared into Willem’s eyes, her heart thumped in her stomach. Even after only a few encounters, Aya felt more comfortable with Willem than anyone she had ever known, save her father and Dellwyn. Somehow, she knew he was a good man. But she—a believed traitor’s daughter, a whore, a hopeful traitor herself—hardly considered herself a good woman anymore, at least, not by a nobleman’s standards.

“I will return the barrette and the dress, too.” Aya squeezed Willem’s hand. “I promise.”

Willem shook his head. “You keep them.”

“No, Willem.” Aya crossed her arms. “They were your mother’s. Please, let me return them.”

Willem sighed. “Will it really make you feel better to give them back?”

“Yes.” Aya stood straighter.

“Fine. When I am ready to have them back, I will ask.”

“Willem!” Aya clenched her jaw.

“Aya, I’m not budging.” Willem made a show of mimicking her by crossing his arms. “They were my mother’s, yes. And they are special to me. However, they are also mine now, and you are special to me, too. This is the best deal you’re getting.”

Aya blushed. “I’m special to you?”

Willem threw his arms up in the air. “After the hours we spent in bed last night, do you seriously doubt that?”

Aya bit her lip and blushed even redder at the memory. If anyone knew that sex and affection were separate, it was her, but hearing him place them together made her heart flutter. “When you put it that way, I suppose I believe you.”

“Good.” Willem grinned and rolled his eyes. “Now then, are you well enough prepared to go to your meeting?”

“Yes.” Aya let her arms fall to her side.

“If I check the time with the staff and it is still early enough, will you please eat breakfast here?”

Aya laughed. “I didn’t know ‘please’ was in the noble vocabulary.”

Willem inhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. “Aya.”

“Yes.” Aya poked his chest. “But don’t tell anyone I’m here.”

“Yes, yes, woman of mystery.” Willem waved her hand away. “Stay put. I’ll be right back.”

Willem left the room, and Aya seated herself on his bed. She smiled as she noticed a few of her brown hairs lingering on the pillows, and she hoped that they would find a way to stay in his room, even after she could not. Aya knew that if Willem found out about her occupational history, or worse, her involvement with the king—either its appearance or true nature—he would never invite her back into his life. Likewise, even once the king was executed, when Aya officially left Lord Varick’s care and took up residency in Portside, the Collingwood family would never entertain the idea of their heir taking up with a merchant woman.