The Cogsmith's Daughter (Desertera #1)(94)

Lionel ran his fingers through his hair. “What if it were restitution? Now that the truth about your father’s innocence has come to light, surely you, as his only heir, are entitled to your proper inheritance?”

Aya’s brow furrowed. “But what about the current tenants?”

Lionel retook Aya’s hands. “I will make sure they receive a new shop of equal value.”

“That seems fair.” Aya bit her lip, a twinge of guilt circling in her gut. “And what about my father’s tools? The king seized them when…”

“I will have them sent over once the current tenants have been relocated.”

Aya’s eyes stung. It wasn’t how she had planned, but she was finally getting the rest of her justice. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Lionel moved to kiss her, but she turned her head so his lips landed on her cheek.

“Lord Varick is after your throne,” Aya whispered.

Lionel pulled back, looking down at her with troubled eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. He came to visit me in the dungeon. He said that getting King Archon out of the way was only the first step in his plan.”

Lionel pursed his lips. “I can’t do anything without other evidence, but I will watch him closely. Thank you.”

“Of course.” Aya pulled her hands away. If she held onto him any longer, if he tried to kiss her again, she did not know what she would do, and she was too scared to find out. “I should go. You should go, Your Majesty.”

Lionel recoiled at the title. “Aya, don’t call me that.”

“It’s who you are now.” Aya reached up and placed a hand on his cheek. “We both need to stop living in the past. We need to be who we are.”

Lionel put his hand over hers. “And can’t we do that together?”

Aya stared up at him. Lionel’s hazel eyes pleaded with her in a way his words couldn’t. She thought about all the colors within them, about the way his lips felt on her skin, about how safe and perfect she had felt in his bed. But it wasn’t enough. Not right now.

Aya sighed. “No, we can’t.”

With one last, sad smile, she turned and walked out the door.





CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE


Aya did not know how to get out of the palace from the courtroom, but she strode through the corridors anyway, keeping her eyes straight ahead and ignoring the hopeful glances and greetings from the nobles she passed. She’d had enough of them today, and they’d certainly had enough of her.

Just as Aya’s temples began to pulse with anxiety, she spied the statue of Queen Hildegard. Aya stopped at the statue’s feet, allowing herself to breathe now that she had her bearings. She fluffed her curls to create a breeze for her hot neck, and her fingers landed on a hard spot. Queen Lisandra’s barrette was still clipped in her hair.

Aya glanced down at her body, clothed in Queen Lisandra’s dress, and sighed. She unfastened the barrette, placing it in her palm and staring down at it. Should she return them? If she went back to her hovel, she would have to send them back to the palace by messenger, and she did not know who she would use now that Lord Varick’s guard was no longer at her disposal. As Aya’s thumb passed over the emeralds, she felt compelled to give back the queen’s belongings now. After all Lionel had done for her, and after all the news he’d received today, Aya knew he deserved that kindness.

When Aya reached the prince’s room, she cursed under her breath. She had not thought about how to get into his chambers. Leaning down, Aya examined the space between the door and the floor. It did not look wide enough to slide the items through, but even if it were, she did not want to risk scratching the barrette or having Lionel step on the dress. As Aya straightened, the screwdriver poked her thigh, and she cursed herself again.

After a few quick jimmies, Aya heard a loud click. She opened Lionel’s door, and as the room came into view, her skin flushed at the memory of their night together. He had been so gentle, so caring, so attentive to her desires. Aya thought back to the trial, how he had placed his hand over hers as he confessed, how he had spoken so softly afterward. He was the same man. She knew it in her bones.

Placing the barrette on the bed, Aya noticed her nightdress, cloak, and bathing house ensemble folded on top of a pillow. Her pillow. She allowed her fingers to trace the fabric of the bedspread again, and goose bumps speckled her skin. A lump swelled in her throat, and Aya knew that she still cared for Lionel, that no matter where their lives took them, part of her always would.

Aya removed Queen Lisandra’s dress, put on the bathing house outfit, and gathered her nightdress and cloak under her arm. As she turned to leave the room, she noticed again the impressive grandfather clock. She remembered the pile of cogs and gears at the bottom. She recalled a silver winder and the strange, cone-shaped key Lionel wore around his neck. A leg and beak soldered together. Penelope.

Aya closed her eyes and told herself there was no time. She made it as far as the door before her hand tightened around the screwdriver still clasped between her fingers. As she stared down at her father’s tool, Aya’s mind whirled back to the day she and Lionel first met, and she finally put herself in his place. She imagined the hope of having a broken Charlie fixed, of the king she blamed for her parent’s death throwing Charlie against the wall, of picking up Charlie’s shattered pieces and placing him in the bottom of a broken clock.