The Cogsmith's Daughter (Desertera #1)(86)

Aya did not move. She just sat on the floor, staring up at him. Let him try. The guard who had searched her had been too busy exploring her womanly assets to find anything. Aya imagined he had seen no reason to take the search seriously. After all, she was just a whore. She smiled, knowing the vortric cog and her father’s screwdriver remained in place. She might only get in one stab with the screwdriver before the guard gave her one better with his knife, but she would not allow him to violate her without a fight.

There was a knocking sound further down the corridor, and the guard went to investigate. Aya breathed a sigh of relief and leaned her head back against the wall. The entire cell was made of metal, so the only way out was through the door. Even if she could miraculously make the iron bars disappear, the windows were still too narrow for her to shimmy through. She would have to exit through the door itself.

The screwdriver would be small defense if she faced more than one guard, and even so, the chances of her making it all the way back to Sternville without being caught were slim to none. And once in Sternville, what would she do? She couldn’t put Dellwyn in danger, and Desertera was too small. There was not a big enough population to get lost in. She would have to take her chances in the desert beyond the city. She wondered which would be worse, public decapitation or private dehydration.

The guard came back, slamming his fist against Aya’s door. “You have a visitor, whore.”

Aya stayed seated, waiting for her visitor’s face to be revealed in the window. The sound of footsteps alternating with the tapping of a staff gave her visitor away. Lord Varick.

His beady eyes appeared in the window, as he was not tall enough for his nose and mouth to show. Without the rest of his face, Aya could not discern whether his eyes were crinkled with concern, cruelty, or calculation.

“Oh, Miss Aya, it breaks my heart to see you like this.”

His words were too thick—full of false sympathy to the point the vowels were nearly all she could hear. Aya jumped up and put her face close to the window. She wanted Lord Varick to feel her sour breath on his face. “You lying sack of filth.”

“Now, now, Miss Aya.” Lord Varick tutted. “There is no need for name-calling.”

Aya glowered. “Why?”

Lord Varick rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry, my dear. You’re going to have to be a bit more specific.”

“Why are you framing me?” Aya shouted as loudly as her cracking voice would allow. She wanted the guard to hear, to know Lord Varick was guilty and throw him in the cell next to her. “There is no need for this, Varick. We had a plan.”

Lord Varick blushed and turned his head to the guard, shaking it. “Poor girl. It seems her mind has slipped already.”

The guard grunted. From the faintness of the sound, Aya could tell he must have returned to his chair. Lord Varick turned back to Aya and lowered his voice. “You said it yourself. We had a plan. Plans change, my dear. I believe this one will be safest for everyone.”

“For you.” Aya spat.

Lord Varick sighed. “This is the way it has to be. I cannot leave any loose strings behind. If the other nobles ever found out that I orchestrated this, even with the king’s crimes out in the open, I could still be tried for treason. I must protect myself.”

“You selfish bastard. You used me, just as you used Isadona.”

“An unfortunate coincidence, yes. But what more are daughters good for?”

Aya took slow, deep breaths, using every muscle in her body to restrain herself from reaching through the bars and poking out Lord Varick’s beady eyes.

“And what about Queen Zedara?” Aya raised her eyebrows. “She’s something of a loose end, is she not?”

“Oh, certainly.” Lord Varick winked. “Do not worry; you are not alone. Zedara will be next.”

“So you kill us, and then what? You have taken your revenge, your secret is safe, and you just go on with your life like it never happened?”

“Miss Aya, for such a clever girl, you do have trouble seeing the big picture.” Lord Varick shook his head. “Trust me. Your death is not in vain. You and Zedara are making noble sacrifices to rid Desertera of a gluttonous and irresponsible royal line. This is only the first step. When it is all done, you ladies shall be revered as saints.”

Aya almost laughed. “You want to be king. You, a mid-rank nobleman, think you can kill your way to the crown?”

Lord Varick squinted, wrapping his fingers around one of the iron bars. “I would never say such a thing. Now, if it were to happen, I do think I would be a great king. But as you say, I am so far down in the line.”

The consequences of Lord Varick’s plan filtered into Aya’s mind, and her heart panged—with joy and fear—when she realized that Lord Varick would have to kill Prince Lionel. Willem.

“Where does Prince Lionel fit into this plan of yours?”

Lord Varick’s eyes brightened. “I was wondering when you would ask about him. Willem is the name he gave you, correct?” He chuckled. “Well, I certainly cannot rule with Willem around.”

Aya pursed her lips. Maybe Willem—Lionel—had not known Aya would be hurt. Perhaps he regretted what he had done to Aya’s father and had joined with Lord Varick to redeem himself. “Then he is like Zedara and me, another pawn in your scheme.”