The Cogsmith's Daughter (Desertera #1)(63)
King Archon shrugged, picking up his wine. He swirled the red liquid around and sniffed the top of the glass. “Is it wrong to want more than the superficial? Yes, I have money. I am handsome. Yes, I have a son to replace me in death and a beautiful wife to entertain me in life. But that is not all I want. Can I not want substance with it all?”
Aya leaned back and crossed her arms. “What kind of substance?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I want to be challenged, to have genuine conversations with a woman who is clever and curious and honest, not one who just tells me what I want to hear and relies on her pretty face to nod.”
And so the battle began—Aya versus Queen Zedara. Aya made a show of sitting up straight and nodding as high and low as her head would bobble. King Archon chuckled. Other than her initial slip up, Aya had been that witty conversationalist the king claimed to desire. She wondered how far she could push the limits of propriety.
“Forgive me if I am being too bold, Your Majesty, but are you saying that you are unhappy with the queen?”
King Archon took a deliberate drink of his wine. “Oh, no, no. The queen is a lovely woman. I just wish she wasn’t so much like all the other noblewomen. I wish she had a little more substance.”
If only Queen Hildegard’s statue could clue poor Archon in.
“Again, Your Majesty, I apologize for being so blunt, but—what did you expect when you married a noblewoman? Does society allow them to be anything other than what you describe?”
The king stared at Aya for a long moment. “I suppose you are right.”
Aya decided to let the subject drop. She had made her point and implied what she needed to imply. Now it was just a matter of waiting to see if the king would take the bait.
King Archon set his wine glass down and rubbed his stomach. “I think I am ready for some ice cream. How about you, Miss Aya?”
The king waved his hand at the maid, and she hustled off to fetch the ice cream. Aya looked down at the table. Three-quarters of the bread loaf and over half of the pork roast remained uneaten. Images of the thin children in Sternville flashed through her mind, and Aya’s stomach knotted.
“Will all of this go to waste?”
King Archon glanced at the leftover food as if he did not realize they were at a meal. “Oh, well, I imagine the servants will finish it off.”
Aya clenched her fists in her lap. The king had never even thought of what to do with the excess food. And his solution? Feed it to the servants. He viewed food in the same way he viewed women. If he became bored or they could not be of use to him, get them off of his plate, and let someone else clean up the mess. And the loved ones left over? What leftovers?
The maid returned with two glass bowls, each containing three pink scoops of ice cream. Aya waited for King Archon to select a utensil, and when he picked up a spoon, Aya did the same. She dipped her spoon into the ice cream. It was the strangest texture—soft enough that the spoon sliced through it easily but firm enough to hold its shape. It reminded her of the yogurt she had eaten with Willem, only thicker. She balanced a small bit of the ice cream on her spoon and took a bite.
Aya had never experienced real cold. Sure, she had walked through the streets of Desertera on crisp mornings to fetch cool water, but she had never experienced something frozen. The cold spread through her entire mouth, and strangely, the place on her tongue where the ice cream rested felt as though it was burning. She tried to chew, but a sharp pain hit her teeth like a hammer. Desperate for an escape, she swallowed, feeling the ice cream slide down her throat and plop into her stomach.
King Archon chortled, scooping a large spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. “Your senses will adjust. Keep taking little bites. Don’t eat too quickly, or it will make your head hurt.”
Aya did as he suggested, and eventually, the sting of the cold lessened, and she was able to enjoy the creamy texture and fruity flavor of the ice cream. She wondered how it was made, how Stefan manufactured the ice to mix into the milk and keep the dessert cold. Aya’s father had told her that the nobles used to have machines and metal boxes to make and store ice, but she thought those had lost function, along with most other machines, when the bulk of the water dried up. She hoped the nobles were not using water to power their machines. The thirsty poor would riot if that were true.
They ate their dessert in silence. King Archon appeared content to watch Aya. She felt his eyes on her and did not know what to do with her face. She settled for alternating between surprise and contentment. Apparently, these expressions pleased the king, as he smiled and stared at her.
When they were finished, the king scooted her chair away from the table and took her arm again.
“Thank you for lunch.” Aya smiled. “It was lovely.”
“It was entirely my pleasure, my dear. Now, would you like to move on to the grand finale?”
“Please.”
King Archon motioned for Eldric to come over. The valet leaned into him, the king whispered a few words, then Eldric departed, taking the maid with him. As the valet strolled away, Aya’s heart thumped. With him gone, Aya could better complete her mission to acquire the king’s affections. However, that also meant Aya had to be alone with the king, a thought that sent her thumping heart into her throat.
King Archon and Aya walked back through the double doors and down the grand stairwell. Before they reentered the hallway, King Archon stopped and turned to face a large portrait hanging on the wall. The portrait began at the floor and stretched at least six feet high and three feet wide. From its canvas stared Queen Hildegard, standing at the helm of the ship and steering it through the great rains.