Page 100 of The Discount Damsel

“Oh, it’s not invasive.”

The griffin flattened her blue wings against her body, wiggled her backside, and pounced. With her claws retracted, Bradley did not need to fear impalement, but Zora’s platter-sized paws could still crush his ribs.

“Tell that . . . to Zora,” he wheezed.

The griffin sniffed him from his chin to his groin and back again, peeping to herself.

“She’s just being thorough. Leopard jays can sniff out a grub in a tree from thirty yards, you know.”

Zora gave a disgruntled caw when she found no juicy morsels to rip out of the boy’s intestines and heaved herself off the apprentice. Bradley groaned and curled on his side into the fetal position.

“None, sweetie?” Miss Penelope gave the griffin an affectionate pat as she passed by on her way to her basket of babies.

Zora liquified upon the floor under the northern balcony archway in the manner inherent to all felines, dragged the basket in between her front paws, and flicked her tail as she watched Lung Shang practicing his tornadoes again. She released a mournful peep that she would be deprived of a sprinkle bath. Again. They just weren’t the same when they were administered from a hose. Hose water didn’t impart the luminous shine to her feathers and fur like water from a luck dragon. And after birthing four kits and being covered in their saliva and toe jam and general gunk from the time they spent crawling all over her, she wanted to feel beautiful again. Zora flopped her chin down onto one paw with a sigh.

The griffin rider helped the apprentice to his feet, gave him a quick kiss on each cheek, and began her physical inspection of him and the tower as she had done a month ago. The weight of this month’s supplies had delayed their arrival time, so she performed her duties more briskly than before. Yet, her eyes missed nothing.

“I thought you’d given up your potion-making pursuits,” she asked, pointing to the shelves of jars and vials. “Looks like a few jars are low. Luna moth spots, Morpheum lavender, gecko skin?”

Bradley could only assume that was Dirk’s doing, as the luck dragon nosed about up here when he wasn’t counting treasure in his room or protecting his princess against the Heroes who would rescue her. But blaming the luck dragon would be the equivalent of telling a College professor that termites had eaten his homework, so he said with what he hoped was a nonchalant shrug, “Sleeping draught.”

“Oh, darling boy.” She abandoned her inspection to take hold of his hands. Gave them a squeeze. “Are you having trouble sleeping? Is it the anxiety? I only have one more visit before, before⁠—”

“I know.” He dropped his hands, and his gaze slid to the cherrywood box on the desk.

It was right where he’d left it last month, and the dark magic inside tugged at him. Bradley felt its pull each and every time he returned to the workroom to exchange books. It wouldn’t hurt to look at it again, to determine for himself if it truly was forbidden magic. He’d questioned his professors at the College, why couldn’t he question this? Deep in his gut, reservation pooled and simmered. A warning . . . that was losing its potency with each day that passed without an answer to his curse.

Only as a last resort, he found himself vowing.

“Something the matter, darling?” Miss Penelope asked, an edge to her voice.

Bradley shook himself, wrenched his eyes front-facing. “No.”

The griffin rider wet her lips and nodded once. “Right, let’s keep going.”

Bradley carried the bulk of the supplies into the kitchen, and as he unloaded the saddle bags, he wondered if they had enough to get through to the next month. Perhaps he really would have to make better use of his flour stores and make scones for breakfast and give the beans and rice to the Heroes. He would definitely have to spear another grouper, but how to do that without the Heroes noticing Dirk was a luck dragon? The fish couldn’t be lured to the surface otherwise. Perhaps he could corral the Heroes in the training room, lock the door, and hope one didn’t escape through the window? He’d worry about it later—it might not even be a concern if Miss Penelope discovered what he was hiding in the dungeons.

Or what Dirk was hiding in his room.

“Seems like his claws are scratching the enamel.” Miss Penelope dragged her finger against a shallow groove in the claw-foot tub. “I’ll ask the College brownies for a sealant and bring that next time. And do you have any idea why he’s moved more dressers in here?”

To hide all the rubies he stole from Leighton, obviously. They couldn’t all fit in the mattress with the enchanted warhammer, after all. Thank Caelus’s stars Miss Penelope couldn’t sense magical objects like a sorcerer could, or else the jig really would’ve been up.

“Socks,” Bradley said quickly.

“Socks? Oh yes, because the desert gets cold at night. He’s cutting out the toes and using them as body warmers, isn’t he? And he has a variety of sizes available when he outgrows the previous ones. Ah! Talented and clever.”

They moved on to the spring.

Sir Roger had assured him that he and the other tutors would be quieter than church mice, but Miss Penelope had seemingly superhuman perception. She would notice the scuffed sand in front of the dungeon door, hear the drip of a faucet that had not been run in over five decades, possibly even smell the musk of men who hadn’t had full showers in a very long time.

When they reached the spring, Bradley stayed away from the dungeon door to draw her eye, but the griffin rider seemed too preoccupied with her “shrimp darlings” to notice him. They were the size of peas now, halfway through their preparation cycle, and looking fit as an orchestra of tiny fiddles.

Satisfied, Miss Penelope returned to the stairs and paused after only one step. She turned towards the dungeons, sniffing. “Do you smell ammonia?”

Fink! The little ferret was still adjusting to using the toilet to relieve himself instead of the sand. He must’ve had an accident last night and Jax hadn’t caught it.

“Perhaps it’s just gas escaping from the toilet trap?” he suggested. “I can look into it.”