The Cogsmith's Daughter (Desertera #1)(58)
“What a humanitarian you are, Aya.” King Archon grinned, shaking his head as if Aya’s sympathy were novel. “I have no idea. She probably went the way of all orphan girls. Perhaps she was taken in by another merchant. Perhaps she fell to less honorable means. Perhaps she died. I cannot concern myself with what happened to one child when I am entrusted with the wellbeing of my entire kingdom.”
More like the wellbeing of your pecker.
“Oh, yes, I know, Your Majesty.” Aya winced. “I was simply thinking aloud. Please forgive me.”
King Archon squeezed her arm. “No need to apologize, my dear. I find your wonder and curious nature refreshing. So many noblewomen, our beloved queen included, have become so accustomed to this life that they do not have any intellectual spark left in them. Their entire lives are one script after another.”
Aya looked down at her feet. “That is so sad.”
For once, Aya meant what she said to the king. She thought that sounded like a horrible, boring life. All she had ever wanted was to reclaim her father’s shop, to learn cogsmithing, to work. To live a life devoid of usefulness had to be soul crushing. Aya promised herself that, when this was all over, if she did manage to continue her courtship with Willem, she would never allow herself to become merely another golden shell of a woman. She would always put her craft and herself before whatever expectations the Collingwood line had of their women.
King Archon patted her hand. “Would you like to sample a cup of tea? I am sure it will put your spirits right.”
Aya nodded, noticing her tongue had gone dry. King Archon led her into the tearoom, a shop in which every surface was either white or pink. Inside, sat five white, round tables with pink flowers and vines painted on them. Each table had four chairs around it. King Archon led her to the table nearest the windows. Aya didn’t know whether this was so she could have the best view of the street, or so the street could have the best view of her. Two of the other tables were filled with women. A server appeared from behind a white counter at the back of the shop to take their order. The king simply asked for two cups of their best brew.
“It is a lovely day, isn’t it, Your Majesty?” one of the women asked from behind them. She was young, around Aya’s age, with skin so smooth and pale that Aya wondered if she had ever seen the sun. While the woman had a pretty smile, her eyes were a bit abnormal, a little crossed and cloudy. Aya wondered if this was a cosmetic effect of the inbreeding King Archon talked so passionately about.
“Why it certainly is, Miss Collingwood.” King Archon inclined his head. “Pray tell, how are Lord Collingwood’s farms faring with this excessive heat?”
“Father’s farms are doing quite well, thank you, Your Majesty.” Miss Collingwood placed a hand on her chest. “He had to abandon one, though. The heat has scrambled the farmer’s brains.”
So Lord and Lady Collingwood had a daughter. Willem had a cousin and was heir to farms, not just merchant shops. Aya should have expected a Miss Collingwood, given that Willem had only said Lord Collingwood had no sons, but it was still odd to see his child in the flesh—especially knowing that the girl was around the same age as Aya and Dellwyn. Now Aya had another finding about Dellwyn’s Lord Collingwood to report.
“Pity.” King Archon shook his head. “I’m sure he will find another willing farmer to replace him.”
“Yes, I’m sure he will.” Miss Collingwood turned to Aya. “Miss Wellman, you look lovely today.”
Aya raised her eyebrows. Gossip must be spreading if a lady as high up the noble tree as Miss Collingwood knew her name. “Thank you. As do you.”
“I mean it. That dress is divine—fit for a queen! Lord Varick must have spent a few shiny coins on that one. You must tell me who made it for you.”
From the smirk on Miss Collingwood’s face, Aya could tell that she was only partially sincere. What she really wanted to say was, “How does a poor ward like you have finer clothing than me?” Then again, with her use of the word “queen,” Miss Collingwood may have been asking, “How many times did you have to bed the king before he gave you that?”
“Unfortunately, I cannot.” Aya smiled. “It was not made for me but rather loaned to me by a friend.”
Miss Collingwood lifted her chin. “Ah, I suppose that makes sense. How are you enjoying your new life in the palace?”
Aya withheld a chuckle. “It has been quite educational. And everyone is so welcoming. I am delighted to be here.”
“Good. You will have to join us for tea some time.” Miss Collingwood glanced at King Archon. “The society of so many men must grow tiresome.”
Now Aya really wanted to laugh. Miss Collingwood was insinuating that Aya was a loose woman. Aya bit her cheek. If only the little society lady knew!
“It does. I would love to have some female company.”
“It is settled then.” Miss Collingwood clapped. “The next time we take tea, we shall send you an invitation.”
“That would be lovely. Thank you.”
Miss Collingwood bowed her head, and the discussion was closed. Aya turned back to watch the street. There were more and more nobles visiting the shops, and many of them stole a glimpse at her and the king. The server came back with their tea, brown and steaming inside white porcelain cups with flowers painted on to match the tables.