The Cogsmith's Daughter (Desertera #1)(57)
Aya couldn’t decide whether to feel insulted that she would “taint the bloodlines,” terrified that King Archon considered her a viable breeding candidate, or hopeful that maybe Willem’s family would feel the same way about accepting a little bad blood into the Collingwood lineage.
“I’m honored you think me worthy of such a noble cause.”
“You honor yourself by proving that civility can still blossom in such wretched surroundings, Miss Wellman. What was it like growing up out there? I can’t even fathom it.”
Aya’s jaw nearly dropped. She had never heard the king show personal interest in another person before. “It was not so bad when I was a child.” Aya spoke slowly, carefully. “My mother died when I was little. My father raised me well, but when I was just becoming a woman, he died at work.”
“Did he fall in a well?”
Aya looked the king dead in his blue eyes. “More like he was pushed.”
The king’s eyebrows rose. “Do you have any proof of foul play? If so, I can help you bring his attacker to justice.”
Aya pursed her lips. If only he knew. “No, I do not. It was not as simple as that. And even if I did, I would not want you to involve yourself in that way, Your Majesty. You would not either, if you understood the circumstances.”
King Archon nodded and cupped her cheek with his hand. “I’m so sorry, my dear.”
Aya gently brushed his hand away from her face, feigning nonchalance. “It’s all right. A kind woman took me in. She tried to teach me her craft, but I was never very good at it. After several years of struggling, Lord Varick came to me out of nowhere and made me his ward. His compassion was so surprising to me, and while I do not consider myself his equal, I am ever grateful for the opportunities he has given me.”
King Archon lifted Aya’s hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles. His pointed beard scratched her fingers. “I am sorry you had to live through that, Aya. I promise you that your new life will be better, the life you deserve.”
“Yes,” Aya smiled. “I do believe it will be much more just.”
As they approached the shops, Aya observed that the area was relatively empty, and she let out a long breath. All of the shopkeepers were out, opening their doors and attending to their displays, but only a few customers—three elderly noblewomen waiting outside the cobbler’s shop and eight young women clustered outside the tea room—lingered in the corridor. When both groups of ladies caught sight of King Archon with Aya on his arm, they leaned their heads in together and whispered, not even bothering to be discreet. Aya smiled and attempted to widen her eyes with wonder and innocence.
“See?” King Archon whispered. “We are already the topic of conversation.”
Aya nodded but chose not to comment further out of concern for how the ladies would interpret any words they overheard. Instead, Aya gazed out across the shops. One of the shopkeepers swept the marble floor in front of his store in the same manner that the Portside merchants smoothed out the dirt that accumulated at their doorsteps overnight. Aya shook her head. “Why do these shops exist?”
King Archon scowled and cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
“There is an entire section of the kingdom devoted to merchants and shopping. Why do the royals do their shopping in the palace instead of Portside?”
“Oh, the shops in Portside are good for basic needs, but they cater to the poorer classes. Their goods are not nearly as fine as what you will find here, and there are many items offered here that poor people simply do not want.” King Archon waved his hand as if dismissing them. “Besides, no respectable noblewoman would want to go out into that desert wind and get dirty to shop, not when she could do it in a controlled environment.”
Aya scrunched her face. “What kinds of special goods are sold here?”
They turned down the main hallway and walked along the storefronts. As they passed each shop, its shopkeeper came out to bow to the king. King Archon did not even acknowledge their signs of respect with so much as a nod. “All kinds of things. Masks, as you already know, fine clothing, furniture, bath oils, teas. Everything, really.”
With such an eclectic selection of specialty stores, Aya could not help wondering why her father’s shop had not been inside the palace. Surely, as the only cogsmith, his services would have been extremely attractive to the nobles, who kept the old machines as relics in their shrines to the old world ways.
“Is there any place that could fix your clock?”
King Archon laughed. “I knew you were interested in that old beast. No. Unfortunately, none of the shopkeepers here can help with it. The last cogsmith in Desertera died almost ten years ago. Clockwork, and many other crafts, died with him.”
Aya felt her stomach drop. To hear King Archon speak about her father’s death, in almost a respectful way, made her sick. If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought the king actually regretted the death of her father, the last cogsmith.
“He didn’t have any apprentices?” Aya tried to keep her voice level.
“He had a daughter. I believe he must have intended to teach her his craft, but I do not know how successful he was.”
Not successful enough.
“Where is she now?” Aya turned away from the king, hiding her face with feigned interest in her surroundings. “Does she have a shop in Portside?”