Page 114 of The Discount Damsel

THE DANGERS OF FANTASIES, DISTRACTIONS, AND AGE-OLD INSTINCT

“Girl!”

“Millie, watch out!” Dirk cried.

Millie blinked and caught the downward cut of Sir Roger’s sword with her cutlass. Oathkeeper was a heavy broadsword, wielded by a seasoned fighter, and would slice into her collarbone if she didn’t deflect it this very second. Instinct guided her arm to the left, shuttling the sword along her blade’s edge to wedge against the shell guard that protected her hand. With a quick shove and a spin, she dislodged the broadsword and evaded the return swing.

Sir Roger dropped his sword, lodging the point in the seam between two stones in the floor. “Girl,” he barked a second time, “where is your head? These are live blades!”

“I’m sorry,” she said, defensive. “I’m . . . distracted.”

“Maybe you need a break?” Dirk suggested, then grumbled, “I could use a break.” The baby dragon hovered off to the side, a barbell loaded with ninety pounds gripped parallel to his body between both sets of paws.

“No breaks,” the hedge knight snapped. “You need to work on your endurance, boy.”

The pirate aspirant and the Mini Red shared a covert look. The apprentice had been more stingy with his spell-writing as of late, and if Dirk could offset the difference in strength and endurance from his own merit, all the better. Millie weighed double what he currently struggled with, at least she had before she’d starting training every waking hour, so that was the goal line.

“And you, girl.” Sir Roger waved his hand in front of her face. “What is so distracting about this barren training room in the middle of nowhere? Cannon fire? Is a deck pitching under your feet? Saltwater stinging your eyes? Perhaps the screams of men as they get skewered by harpoons and their guts ripped out?”

“Sir Roger,” she exclaimed.

“Because that’s the fate that awaits your crew if their captain is distracted.”

“I get it.” She shook out her arms and lifted her cutlass. “Again.”

Sir Roger only budged to layer his forearms over the broadsword’s pommel and lean. “I’m not interested in maiming you. What’s on your mind, girl?”

Without meaning to, her attention strafed to the empty folding table by the training room door.

Sir Roger glanced over his shoulder. “Miss Millie,” he began.

“Let’s go again.” Millie smeared the sweaty strands of auburn hair away from her neck. “I’m ready.”

“Well I’m not.” He shoved off his sword and stalked to the windowsill with the hourglass.

“Liar.”

“Takes one to know one. And I’m old. I’m taking a water break.” Slouching upon the sill, Sir Roger popped the cork of the waterskin and took a long swallow.

“Why do you get a break?” Dirk demanded.

“You don’t need your yapper to hover and keep that weight up. Higher, boy. You’re getting lazy.”

Dirk strained to gain another foot in altitude. The hedge knight wouldn’t let him practice by the windows, lest he commandeer the aid of a passing wind. It was good endurance training, but that didn’t stop the little luck dragon from grumbling.

He wasn’t alone in his frustration. Scowling, Millie stalked to the center of the training room, her bare feet scuffing against the worn stones. She lifted her cutlass and began the drills she knew by heart.

“You’re going to tucker yourself out swinging that hard,” the hedge knight commented.

“Then come over here and make me do it right.”

“I’m not done with my water break.” He took another swallow. “You’re gonna be too tired to climb that rope with Jax this afternoon.”

“And I won’t be around to catch you,” Dirk reminded her.

“I’ll. Be. Fine.” She thrust her cutlass through her imaginary opponent’s chest, which just so happened to be in line with the empty table. Millie spun around and performed her drills in the opposite direction.

The apprentice hadn’t sat in that chair, hadn’t hunched over a book with his chin cupped in his hand, for a week. He also hadn’t trained her, returning that duty to Sir Roger. When she woke in the mornings, now right before dawn, he was already gone. Light glowing along the seam of the trapdoor revealed him to be in the workroom, studying she supposed, as she heard no pacing. They had breakfast together, but there was no talking. The apprentice horked down his food like he couldn’t wait to rid himself of her presence; he chugged his tisane and performed his speech therapy exercises with the same rapidity. What used to make him struggle for thirty minutes took seconds, and then he was back at his studies. And he was always studying, shut away in the workroom even after supper, which made it impossible for her to keep her promise to Dirk that she’d dig around in the books.