The Cogsmith's Daughter (Desertera #1)(78)
Aya shrugged and took another bite of her cake. That was a logical point. At least one of them had some tact. “True, Eldric is a man of few words, and the prince seems to be quite elusive.”
“To some of us, maybe,” Miss Collingwood said.
Given Miss Collingwood’s tone, Aya inferred that she and the prince were courting. That would explain her eagerness to speak with the king the other day and some of her arrogance. Then again, Aya had just seen the prince at the trial a few days ago, and he had certainly not been with Miss Collingwood. Aya would have remembered those crooked eyes—even from across the courtroom.
“Do you know the prince well, Miss Collingwood?” Aya asked.
“Oh, yes. Lionel and I have been close since childhood. In fact, I would not be surprised if we become even closer very soon.” Miss Collingwood waggled her left-hand ring finger, and Miss Aster and Miss Frieson pointedly sipped their tea.
“Really?” Aya raised her eyebrows. “From what I have gathered of the prince’s reputation, the idea of him binding himself in marriage seems unlikely.”
Miss Collingwood giggled. “All men have their wild oats to sow. I would rather Lionel get them out of his system now, so he does not end up under the executioner’s ax.”
Aya could not believe that Miss Collingwood, who seemed territorial in all respects—tables, chairs, conversations—would be so cavalier about letting her potential future husband sleep his way through Desertera. Of course, as long as she claimed the title of princess and future queen, why should anything else matter? After all, she could not inherit her father’s estate, but she could marry her way into a better one. Aya tried to figure out a way to bring Willem, Lord Collingwood’s heir and Miss Collingwood’s cousin, into the conversation without revealing her connection to him.
However, before Aya could devise a strategy, Miss Aster spoke. “Speaking of the monarchy…” She inclined her head toward the tearoom’s window.
Aya saw King Archon and Queen Zedara strolling past the shops, arm in arm. The sight of the king and queen walking so closely together made Aya’s chest tighten. For a split second, she thought that maybe Queen Zedara had changed her mind and decided to keep her title. However, after a quick sip of hot cocoa, Aya came to her senses, realizing that King Archon must be putting on a show, making the public’s last glimpse of him and the queen that of a happy, loving pair.
As the royal couple reached the tearoom, Queen Zedara motioned that she would like to go inside. King Archon glanced in at the tables, and when his piercing eyes landed on Aya, he tugged the queen’s arm and spoke to her. The queen turned to look over her shoulder, and when she saw Aya sitting in the cafe, she smirked. If any of Aya’s unfounded doubts lingered, they were entirely dismissed with that small action. At the same time, King Archon looked past the queen’s shoulder and smiled softly. Luckily, Miss Collingwood had no way to see this interaction, and the other two ladies were not bold enough to stare at the royal couple through the window.
“Are they coming in?” Miss Collingwood whispered.
Aya shook her head. “No. They have moved on.”
“That is so strange,” Miss Aster said. “I wonder why they did not come inside. This is the king’s favorite shop.”
“Maybe the queen lost her appetite.” Miss Frieson looked directly at Aya.
Aya smiled. “Well, I certainly have not.” She took her last bite of lemon cake, making sure to savor every crumb as it slid over her tongue. The other ladies watched her with a mixture of pity and envy—oh, how rotten to be poor, but how lucky to taste everything in life for the first and last time.
*
Miss Collingwood and her entourage kept Aya captive for another two hours. To hear them tell it, they wanted to get to know the newest palace lady their age and to introduce her to the ways of noble life. They recounted their childhoods in Starboardshire and their introduction to noble society, should Lord Varick decide Aya needed a “coming out” party. They explained which dressmaker was most skilled and how to direct her to best accentuate your prettiest features. They outlined the social convention involved in courting—just in case a nobleman would be willing to take on a ward as his wife—and Miss Collingwood told Aya exactly the type of husband she could expect.
“Only widowers take on wards as wives. But don’t worry. After you see their purses, it will be easy for you to get over their round bellies and balding heads.”
When Miss Collingwood finally announced that teatime was over, Aya stood straight up, gave each lady a curtsy and word of farewell, and bolted. As she emerged into the busy shopping corridor, Aya breathed in deeply as if she had entered fresh air. Anything felt refreshing after being cooped up in the tearoom with those bratty women for so long.
As the nobles ambled around her, Aya’s heart lurched at the possibility that Willem might be among them—partly out of hope to see him again and ensure his silence continued and partly out of dread of what would surely be an awkward, stilted encounter. To avoid either, Aya kept her eyes forward and strode toward the exit. She focused so intently on leaving that she did not notice someone falling into step behind her. When that person grabbed her waist and pulled her into a narrow alleyway between two of the storefronts, Aya shrieked, her noise quickly met with a hand over her mouth. Aya took a calming breath through her nose, assuming that Willem had once again whisked her out of sight for a confrontation. As she turned around to look at him, Aya’s eyes widened, and she used every muscle in her face to keep it neutral. “Your Majesty.” Aya forced herself to smile. “You gave me such a fright!”