The Cogsmith's Daughter (Desertera #1)(59)
“Why look at that,” King Archon whispered, his eyes sparkling with delight. “You’re making friends already.”
Aya twisted her lips and glanced back at the table of ladies. “I highly doubt Miss Collingwood wants to be my friend so much as she wants the enjoyment of having someone to feel above.”
King Archon chuckled. “You have everyone in the palace figured out, don’t you?”
Aya let her eyes trace the lines of his face. “Almost everyone.”
King Archon took a sip of his tea. Aya stirred a silver spoon in hers before doing the same. She’d never had tea before, but the moment it washed over her tongue, she nearly gagged. It tasted like dirty water mixed with the bath oils she’d been given at the bathing house—grainy, lemony, minty, with some kind of plant extract. She forced herself to keep a straight face.
“How do you like the tea?”
The king seemed to appreciate her candor, so she kept it coming. “It’s vile. But I’m willing to try to acquire the taste.”
King Archon laughed. “You will do well here, Aya. You really will.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
After they finished their tea—even by the end of her cup, Aya still had not acquired a taste for it—the king insisted they visit some of the other shops. “It is a show of goodwill.”
Aya did not really want to browse any of the stores, but she had to admit, it was nice to have distractions to keep King Archon from staying so close by her side. She could scurry from display to display in the shops, pretending that a hat or ottoman or vial had caught her eye, to escape the king’s clutches. After she had repeated this process at a few different shops, King Archon finally learned to stand in the center of the shop with his arms folded and chat with the shopkeeper. His eyes still followed Aya’s every move, staring at her like a child who had caught his first sand beetle, but at least his hands stayed off her.
Once a couple hours had passed this way, they finally reached the end of the shops. Aya nearly bounced on her heels, anxious to get away from the pushy shopkeepers and the nosy society ladies and into some fresh air. She didn’t know how much longer she could stand to be cooped up amongst all this excess and wealth.
“Your Majesty?”
King Archon was conversing with the palace’s painter and did not notice her at first. She called after the king again, and it became apparent that he was ignoring her. Aya sighed. Knowing he wanted attention, she stood beside him and tapped his shoulder. “Your Majesty?”
He looked at her with exaggerated surprise. “Oh, Aya. Are you done?”
“These paintings are so beautiful. I’m sure I could gaze at them forever.” Aya smiled at the painter, hoping she would not think Aya rude. “However, I am growing quite hungry for our lunch.”
“Me too, my dear. Let us head up to the deck. Good day, Piera.”
The painter gave a little bow as they left. King Archon took Aya’s arm in his again. As they strolled away from the shops, Aya swore she heard a ripple of whispers in their wake. She could not make out any of the words, but she hoped they were more about how King Archon’s pattern was emerging again and less about how she should be detained for taking up society with a married man.
As they wound their way through the palace’s many passages and stairwells, King Archon tried to engage Aya in more polite conversation. Looking away from the king, Aya rolled her eyes and prayed he would quit talking. A quick glance behind showed her that Eldric still followed them, and Aya repressed a sigh. When would he leave them alone so she could reel in the king and get this day over with?
King Archon cleared his throat. “Which shop was your favorite?”
Aya released her pent-up sigh. “Oh, that is difficult. They were all so lovely.” Aya tapped her bottom lip with her finger. Unlike the first time she attempted to woo the king, he responded to her physical cues. His gaze fell to her lips, flitting between them and her eyes.
“I suppose I liked the bookbinder best. I think the act of repairing books is incredibly noble. She is literally holding together our collective history and the culture of our ancestors.”
“Hmm. I have never thought of it that way.” King Archon slipped his arm out of Aya’s and around to her waist. “Your creative mind continues to amaze me.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Aya took a few quick steps to break free from his arm. The king’s brow furrowed, but she played it off with an innocent shrug and a smile. He had to know that any woman he socialized with would fear such intimate contact. After all, he was a married man. Or was he already living as if his queen were gone? That would make Aya’s task much easier.
Aya and King Archon arrived at the top of the palace. They climbed a grand staircase with red velvet carpeting to a set of double glass doors framed in gold. The extravagance of the ship washed over Aya again. If it were built for the purpose of survival, why spend so much money and expend so many resources on finishings and decorations? They could have been put toward extra rooms, food, or fuel to support more people. How many citizens were left behind because of the nobles’ greed?
A maid waited at the doors, holding a dark green headscarf. When Aya reached her, the maid gave a small curtsy and extended the scarf. “To protect your lovely hair and face, Miss Wellman.”
“Thank you.”