The Cogsmith's Daughter (Desertera #1)(64)

“Aya, can you keep a secret?”

Aya grinned. Oh, can I ever. “Of course, Your Majesty. Anything for you.”

She swore she saw a little pink dance across the king’s cheeks.

“Good. I want to show you something, and you must swear never to tell another living soul what you have seen.”

“I promise.” Aya took her finger and drew an X over her heart. King Archon nodded, reached up to the portrait, and pushed. Instead of falling or clattering against the wall, the painting slid easily over to the right, revealing a dark passageway with a sloping floor. The king stepped aside and motioned for Aya to enter the tunnel. She held her breath for a moment, wondering if she could trust the king. While she was almost positive he had no notion of her true identity and her quest to have him executed, she did not like the idea of crawling into a hole with a snake. However, to deny him would be to show her distrust, and he had been nothing but doting and kind to Miss Aya Wellman. Miss Aya Cogsmith would simply have to sit this one out.

As Aya entered the darkness, her knees trembled and her ankles grew weak. Once she was inside, King Archon came into the passageway. He turned around to pull the portrait shut behind them, and the corridor became entirely black. The king moved around Aya, taking advantage of the close quarters to brush the full front of his body against hers. He reached down and grasped Aya’s shaking hand, giving it a squeeze before leading her down the tunnel. “The passageway does become a bit steep, but it is entirely straight, so you do not have to worry about running into any walls.”

Despite this reassurance, Aya still pulled back on his hand, insisting they walk slowly. The king did not seem to mind, and he used the extra time to rub his thumb over her knuckles and wrist. Aya shivered at the realization that he could feel her pulse, that he had a direct connection to her heart, which he probably thought he would own shortly—if he didn’t already.

“Where are we going?” Aya’s voice quivered.

“Patience, my dear. It’s a surprise.”

Aya heard the smile in his voice. Her jaw clenched. “I don’t like surprises.”

King Archon laughed. “You have not seemed too opposed to the rest of today’s surprises.”

“Well, I don’t like ones I can’t see coming.”

“Aya, if you could see them coming, they wouldn’t be called surprises.”

She huffed. He chuckled again. We’ll see who likes surprises.

Aya reached her free hand out to touch the wall. It was cold and smooth, no doubt made of the same metal as the rest of the ship, and as her hand explored the surface, it found a seam and a series of bumps—rivets. Judging by the feeling under her shoes and the quick glimpse she got at the entrance to the tunnel, she believed the floors to be made of wooden planks. Each step felt a bit rough and unlevel, and she even thought she felt a few pokes where a nail head might have stuck out from the wood.

“Almost there.”

The slope grew steeper, and Aya took short, hard steps to steady her feet. She was actually grateful to have the king anchoring her, so she could dip her weight backward to keep herself from toppling forward. Granted, the king probably would have loved for her to fall into him.

King Archon stopped and finally released Aya from his grasp. She heard his fist knock against something. It sounded hollow, as if he tapped on a door.

“Here we are.”

After a few moments, the end of the passageway erupted into light. Aya shielded her eyes as the king opened the door the rest of the way. Like the previous entrance, this one was obscured by a piece of decoration. King Archon stepped into the room, and Aya followed. They were in the round area outside King Archon’s chambers.

Glancing behind her, Aya saw that one of the king’s bookshelves hid the tunnel’s exit. The king pushed it back into place with ease—the books must have been merely for show. Aya looked to the grandfather clock and the mysterious door beside it. “I would have thought we would have come through that door.”

King Archon followed her gaze. “No, no. That door doesn’t go anywhere.”

“What do you mean?” Aya raised her eyebrows. “All doors go somewhere.”

“Not that one.” King Archon sighed. “I have tried to open it. It has been locked for decades, and none of my guards are able to break it down.”

“How curious.”

Before Aya could examine the door further, she felt King Archon’s presence behind her. His chest pressed against her back, and his large hands slid up her arms to sit on her shoulders. The king rested his chin next to his hands, and Aya felt his pointed beard poke her naked clavicle.

“Just like you. Always so curious.”

Aya took a long, slow breath and closed her eyes. This was the moment. The king had gone out of his way to spoil her, had complimented her wit, had maintained physical contact—and now he had raised the level of intimacy. All of her training, waiting, and tolerating had come down to this. If she could not secure the king’s affections now, the entire mission would be compromised, Lord Varick and Queen Zedara would have to start over with a new seductress, and Aya would be back in her room at the Rudder with her father unavenged. It was time.

Aya reached her hand up to the back of King Archon’s neck. He exhaled sharply at her touch, and she felt his lips brush her shoulder. She shivered, which encouraged him to continue kissing, all the way up to her neck. She kept quivering, shaking—she couldn’t pull herself together. She tried to think of Willem’s lips on her, of her father’s screams as the guards dragged him away, of her own head being chopped off if she messed this up—anything to motivate herself.