Page 106 of The Discount Damsel

Millie tapped her glove against her thigh as she considered whether or not the hedge knight was lying to her. There actually wasn’t much to consider—he most definitely was. His lie would preserve the peace, though, and prove he wasn’t a rat to the others, which would facilitate his job as warden.

“The next time there’s a brawl,” she began.

“I will eat the instigator.”

Every eye darted to the enormous red dragon poised outside the dungeon door. Dirk the Dangerous’s fangs were on full display, and the iron bars clutched in his paws groaned as he tightened his grip. In the low light, his eyes flashed green, then yellow. Smoke rose from his nostrils.

For one strange moment, Bradley was afraid.

“Am I quite clear?” the dragon asked.

The men’s heads threatened to wobble off their necks, such was the vehemence of their nods.

“Say it, meat sacks!”

Sir Roger bowed his head. “Understood, sir.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Yes, your dragon-lordship!”

“Uh-huh,” Duncan squeaked from his cot.

Dirk blew a smoke ring down the aisle, and the Heroes rushed into their individual cells as if it were caustic.

“We’re done for the day,” Millie announced and stalked out.

Let them stew. Tutoring her was a privilege—it was the only time they received to stretch their legs, get some sunlight, and enjoy some scintillating conversation.

“Mr. Donmarin,” she called over her shoulder, “I will return your property to its appropriate place and then I’m going to spend the rest of my afternoon with the only sensible male in this tower. The dragon. Good day.”

“Not fair,” the gnome grumbled, reopening his book. “I didn’t join in the fight.”

Bradley lingered a moment longer in the dungeons, glowering.

Brawls jeopardized everything—the tower, its treasure, the magical shrimps, Dirk’s identity, the princess’s safety. Even the cat’s. And what was worse, he couldn’t do anything about a brawl. Sure, he was a scrappy fisherman from the Cut who knew how to throw a punch, but pit him against two knights and another scrappy deckhand, and he would surely lose. And the tower would be overrun.

He was a sorcerer apprentice, dammit! The man he’d been four and half months ago could’ve turned their bones into dust, and he wasn’t even a war mage!

This brawl was as much harbinger of trouble as a red sky at dawn. Soon, the Heroes would challenge him, call his bluff, and there was nothing he could do about it. This, compounded with everything else he’d had to endure, was the last straw his proverbial back could endure.

The apprentice headed for the workroom and locked himself inside. Dirk shouldn’t have to see this.

CHAPTER 46

AFTERNOON TEA IS THE PERFECT TIME TO SCHEME

Dirk was going to be sick. A sour stomach had been his constant companion for weeks, but now his nausea had advanced past “final exam jitters” to full-on “three-week-old spoiled takeout” territory. He’d just threatened to eat a human, and the idea of sinking his teeth into warm, living flesh had roused a hungry growl from his stomach.

He slammed his bedroom door shut with a gust of wind from his feathered tail and raced for the toilet. Dirk threw his head inside the porcelain bowl and vomited.

Bile, sour and stinging. He hadn’t eaten much in the last few days, sleeping in well past sunrise and skipping breakfast. While he ate dinner, at least the portion of fish glistening with butter, his body was so starved of nutrients, it had nothing to expel but stomach acid.

Groaning, Dirk slapped the lever and pooled upon the tile floor as water whisked his sickness away. The floor felt cool against his inflamed scales, dulled the festering itch that crawled like a living thing under his scales. The waters of the spring and the effervescent bubbles of the growing shrimps would’ve been better, but that relief came with the threat of being eaten by a grouper. Pass.

He probably would have stayed on the floor for the rest of the afternoon, tummy rumbling and twisting, had the latch of his bedroom door not begun to rattle.

“I’m not here,” he muffled against the tiles. He didn’t want to see Bradley or Millie, not when he was like this.