The Cogsmith's Daughter (Desertera #1)(7)

As Aya approached, the woman looked up. “Can I help you, child? Come to fetch your father?”

Aya took a deep breath. “My father is dead.”

“Ah.” The woman snorted. “Your mother, then? Older brother or sister?”

“My mother is dead, too. I don’t have any siblings.”

“So you’re an orphan?”

Aya nodded.

The woman cocked her head to one side. “No family at all?”

“No, ma’am.”

The woman stepped out from behind the desk. “And why are you here?”

Aya laced her fingers and looked down at her feet. “The merchants’ wives in Portside. I heard them talking after the landlord kicked me out of my father’s shop. They said this was the only place for orphaned girls in Desertera. They said no one else would want me.”

The woman huffed. “Well, I’m not sure that I want you either. How old are you?”

“Thirteen.”

“Thirteen! Ha! I couldn’t let you touch a man. It’ll be three years before I can make any money from that little mouth of yours. Why should I feed it?”

Aya opened her mouth, but she could not find any words. She didn’t know exactly what women did at the Rudder, only that the people who visited—mostly men—seemed to like it very much, and the people who didn’t visit—mostly their wives—didn’t like it at all.

After a moment of silence, the woman sighed. “Let me look at you.” She motioned for Aya to step closer. Once she came near enough, the woman grabbed Aya’s chin, turning her head from side to side. “Well, you have a pretty face. Show me your teeth.”

Aya used her thumbs and forefingers to pull back her lips. The cracks in them deepened as they stretched, and Aya winced, hoping they didn’t bleed in front of the woman. Aya had not had more than a sip of water in two days.

The woman bobbed her head. “A bit yellow but straight. That’s good.” The woman ruffled Aya’s hair. “The brown isn’t exceptional, but you have beautiful, soft curls. Bouncy, too. Men like bouncy.”

The woman put her hands on Aya’s shoulders and ran them down her body, stopping to squeeze her breasts and then her hips. Aya straightened her back and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Have you bled yet?”

Aya’s eyes widened, but when the woman’s face remained stern, she gave one, hesitant nod of her head.

“When did you start?”

Aya felt her face reddening. “About a year ago.”

“Fine.” The woman gestured across Aya’s chest then from her head to her feet. “You may yet gain a few inches here and there. Not that petite is bad. We could use a few more girlish ladies.”

Aya didn’t answer. She tried to spy the exit from the corner of her eye. Maybe it wasn’t too late to turn and leave.

“And you have no family? No uncles or aunts, no grandparents or cousins, no one at all who will want you?”

Aya shook her head. The woman squatted down to Aya’s level and stared directly into Aya’s eyes. Aya noticed that the woman’s green eyes were watery, and faint wrinkles extended from the corners like cracks in the sand. The woman reached out and took Aya’s hand in hers and gave it a gentle pat. “Very well then. My name is Madam Huxley. I run the Rudder.”

“Aya Cogsmith.”

“Cogsmith, eh?” The woman chuckled. “I heard about what happened to your father. The last mechanical tradesman gone by royal order. No wonder no one wants you.”

Aya bit her lip and looked down.

Madam Huxley touched Aya’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean it like that, but I see now why you are here. There’s no room in civilized society for a traitor’s daughter—guilty or not.”

Aya nodded. She didn’t want to talk to Madam Huxley anymore. Her stomach growled, and her feet ached.

Madam Huxley straightened. “Right. Let’s get started.”

She took Aya’s arm by the elbow and guided her into a hallway and through a thick, iron door. Inside the room, there was another girl, maybe three or four years older than Aya, seated on a bed. She had rich, black skin and the straightest hair Aya had ever seen.

“Aya,” Madam Huxley began, “this is Dellwyn Rutt, our ladies’ maid. Dellwyn, this is Aya Cogsmith, your replacement.”

Dellwyn glanced up from the stockings she was mending. Aya held her breath, waiting for recognition or judgment to cross Dellwyn’s brown eyes. If she knew anything about Aya’s father or his death, Dellwyn didn’t show it. “Yes, Madam.”

“Dellwyn, you will show Aya her duties. Aya, you will be responsible for cleaning up the rooms after use and attending to our ladies and guests as necessary. Dellwyn will teach you.” Madam Huxley paused so Dellwyn could nod her assent. “Good. I shall let you two get acquainted.”

Aya stayed in place as Madam Huxley turned to leave the room. However, before Madam Huxley closed the door, she turned back to address the two girls. “Oh, and Dellwyn, now that you are no longer our cleaning girl, I will be booking you priming appointments. I expect to you to be waiting in Room G at sunset to get Lord Collingwood ready for Alisa.”

“Yes, Madam,” Dellwyn replied. Madam Huxley shut the door. Dellwyn looked at Aya, waiting for her to speak.