The Cogsmith's Daughter (Desertera #1)(81)
Aya bit her lip. “You are the closest thing I have to my father now.”
“And we will always disappoint each other.”
It wasn’t a question. Aya turned to walk down the hallway. Without looking back, she answered Lord Varick anyway. “Yes. Yes, we will.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
As Aya walked down the corridor to the king’s chambers, the hallway grew narrower, and her chest tightened. She had not slept the night before, and she had spent all day lying in her bed with Charlie standing watch as she tossed and turned and tangled herself in the blankets. When the sun had begun to lower over the horizon, Aya had put on Willem’s mother’s dress and placed the barrette in her hair for luck, secured the vortric cog in its hiding place between her left ribs and corset, and strapped one of her father’s screwdrivers to her inner thigh. She took a deep breath, hoping she had everything she needed to face the evening ahead.
Aya noticed that her footsteps sounded louder and faster as she neared the king’s chambers. The metal of the screwdriver had been cold against her leg at first, but now it had warmed to her body temperature. The only reminder of its presence was the garter squeezing her thigh to keep it in place. The vortric cog had also warmed against her flesh, but she could still feel its teeth biting into her side. Despite the physical discomfort they caused, Aya liked carrying these tools with her. They reminded her of her father and her capabilities. She might not have been a noblewoman, but she was a cogsmith’s daughter, and that was a million times more useful.
When Aya arrived at the narrowest part of the corridor right before the king’s round sitting room, she spied King Archon standing in the center of the room, staring up at the motionless grandfather clock. His intricate top hat blocked the clock’s face, and Aya saw the cogs and gears embroidered onto it as a glimpse into the clock’s brain. She stopped walking and took a moment to herself, placing her hand on the wall and inhaling a long, deep breath. With any luck, Lord Varick and whoever else he brought along were already stationed behind the bookshelf, waiting for the show, and Queen Zedara would shortly be standing with her guards where Aya now stood. This was it: the final act for revenge.
“Good evening, Your Majesty.”
King Archon turned around, a smile already on his face. His blue eyes sparkled. He crossed the room quickly and scooped Aya up in his arms, twirling her three times before setting her back down on the floor. Before she could shake off the dizziness, King Archon grabbed her face and melded his lips with hers. She allowed the kiss to last for a few moments before she pushed him away.
“Perhaps I should have said ‘Jubilant evening, Your Majesty.’” Aya laughed.
King Archon beamed. “It is the perfect evening, Aya.”
“What has gotten into you? I have never seen you so overjoyed.” Aya imagined all the women before her, all the dumb young girls who wanted to be queen and all the smart society ladies who knew what was happening but could not figure out how to stop it. This is for you, ladies—you and Papa.
“It is all set in place.” King Archon rubbed her shoulders. “You do not have to worry about a thing, my dear. By this time tomorrow, I will no longer be married, and we can be together.”
Aya took a step back, mindful of her audience and wanting to maintain as much of her innocence as possible. “Your Majesty, I still do not understand. How can your marriage end? Surely you do not have grounds for divorce? That would be a horrible scandal, one your family line may never recover from.”
“No, no, of course not,” the king muttered, waving his hand. “I would never put my reputation in such a position, especially not when it would harm yours and my son’s as well.”
“Then, I am afraid I do not understand you.” Aya cocked her head to the side. “You told me you would explain everything to me.”
The king sat down on the fainting couch, patting the cushion beside him. Aya seated herself next to him, and he took both her hands in his. He rubbed his thumbs in circles over the tops of her hands. She watched his thumbs move as if hypnotized, praying to the Benevolent Queen, or any other deity who would listen, to give her the strength to be patient and carry through with this plan.
“Aya, if I tell you this, it will put us both in grave danger. You must promise me that you will never tell another living soul what I say tonight.”
Aya swallowed. “I swear I will not utter a word.”
The king squeezed her hands and looked down at the floor. “Aya, Queen Zedara does not love me. She never has.”
The surprise on Aya’s face was genuine. This was not how she expected King Archon to begin this conversation. “What?” Aya squinted. “Then why would she marry you?”
“I do not know. For the money or the power, maybe.” King Archon shrugged. “Regardless, she does not love me, nor could she love any man.”
Aya raised her eyebrows and turned her head ever so slightly toward the entrance to the room, where she expected the queen to be standing just out of sight. “What do you mean?”
King Archon sighed and cupped Aya’s cheek with one hand. “She loves women. I did not realize it before, but she and Isadona were in love. I knew that Isadona was committing adultery, but she would never say with whom. Now, I find Zedara is doing the same, only with a new woman.”
Aya frowned. She thought back to her conversations with Queen Zedara. The queen had said she was closer to Isadona than anyone, that she loved her, that she knew for sure that Isadona was in love with someone else. At the time, Aya had wondered if she would have been equally distraught if Dellwyn were in Isadona’s place. Now she had her answer.