The Cogsmith's Daughter (Desertera #1)(70)

Madam Huxley stared past Aya’s shoulder to the workers’ hallways. “Trust me; it was not always this way.” Madam Huxley pursed her lips. “But we grow, we learn, and we improve ourselves. As you have been doing.”

Aya smiled. “I am certainly trying.”

“No, you’re there. I can see it already. Remember, I knew you as the shivering little girl who had just lost her father. And now look at you, all pretty and clean from the palace, seducing the king and a few other noblemen, no doubt.”

Aya blushed and moved to stand next to Madam Huxley behind the desk. “Perhaps.”

“Ah, perhaps. Still retaining that illusion of innocence.” Madam Huxley shook her head. “Smart, Aya, really. It’s charming.”

Aya decided not to mention that her blushing was as natural and uncontrollable as her heartbeat. “Thank you.”

“How is Lord Varick treating you? I hope you are not still squirming under his thumb.”

“I took your warning seriously. I also learned a few bits of information about Lord Varick that proved his character false. I’ve been able to leverage our arrangement to my advantage, and I believe that he is trapped into keeping his word, whether he wants to throw me out on the streets or not.”

Madam Huxley raised her eyebrows. “So you will be back in Portside soon? The first lady cogsmith in the history of Desertera, maybe even in the whole world.”

“That is the plan.” Aya shrugged matter-of-factly.

“Good for you, Aya. I mean it.” Madam Huxley tapped her fingers on the desk. “Though, I hope you remember my little business when you are making connections with merchants. I would be happy to give you a small commission from the transactions of those you refer here. A little favor from you would be a little favor to me and would help us both make lasting business relationships.”

Aya guffawed. “Madam Huxley, I would as soon tell the merchants to f*ck the next queen.”

Madam Huxley’s jaw dropped. After a few moments of stunned silence, she tilted her head back and laughed. “Oh, sweet Aya, you really have grown a brain after all.”

“So it seems.” Aya glanced down the workers’ corridor. “Is Dellwyn in already? Or is she working later?”

“Later, of course. Her clients never start rolling in until after they’ve stuffed themselves with food and wine and played house with the wife.”

Aya nodded. And the children, the grown children near the age of the women they bed here.

“I’m going to go visit with Dellwyn before her shift begins. If I don’t see you the next time I pass through, we may not cross paths again.” Aya paused, her watery eyes surprising her. “I want to say thank you. I loathed this job and the status it brings, but you clothed and fed me. You kept me off the streets where I would have died or suffered worse fates, and I will always be grateful for it.”

Madam Huxley took Aya’s hand. “You’re welcome, Aya. As much as I would have liked to keep you as a steady worker, I am truly happy to see you move on. But I’ll survive.” Madam Huxley dropped her hand. “You barely made me any money anyway.”

Aya laughed. “Goodbye, Madam.”

“Goodbye, Aya.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE


Aya scurried through the streets of Sternville, shading her hand with her face, both to keep the setting sun out of her eyes and lessen her chances of being noticed. Now that she was dressed in palace finery, being seen by her Sternville neighbors would definitely raise suspicion. As she hastened between the hovels, Aya’s stomach churned with guilt—partly that she wore such a fancy dress among such poverty and partly that, as every gust of wind blew dust up around her, she saw the particles cling to the beautiful fabric of Willem’s mother’s dress and fade it to an ashy blue.

When she finally reached her hovel, Aya paused outside the door. Should she knock? It felt ridiculous to do so, given that this was just as much her dwelling now as it had been a few days ago. However, so much had happened since then. It didn’t feel like home anymore—not that it ever really had. Plus, Dellwyn wouldn’t be expecting her, and Aya didn’t want to barge in on her unannounced. Aya raised her hand, even placing her knuckles against the wood, before lowering her hand and opening the door.

Dellwyn sat at the table in the common room, a meager ration of meat and bread in front of her, and she jumped at the sound of the door.

“It’s just me,” Aya said quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought about knocking, but it just seemed so—”

“Strange and unnecessary?” Dellwyn raised her eyebrows, her eyes scanning Aya from head to foot.

Aya blushed. “Yes. Exactly.”

“Well, do come in, madam.” Dellwyn gave a half bow from her chair. “Like it or not, you technically still live here, too.”

Aya smiled and sat down across from Dellwyn.

“I’m surprised to see you. I mean, not really, since I figured you’d come back eventually.” Dellwyn smirked. “But isn’t a bit late for a noblewoman to be wandering about without a chaperone?”

Aya rolled her eyes. “Very funny. Actually, I spent the day with his royal monstrosity, and I could not stand to be in that place any longer.”

Dellwyn laughed. “You poor thing. You must tell me everything—every disgusting detail.” Dellwyn looked down at her plate and then at the space in front of Aya. “Are you hungry?”