Page 119 of The Discount Damsel

“The clothes are possessed,” Duncan cried, flattening against the wall.

Jax let out a whoop and chased after the struggling knight. “Guess Miss Millie’s stockings didn’t like what you were insinuating.”

The silk stocking plunged Sir Beauregard’s head right into the toilet.

The deckhand laughed. “Yep.”

“Should I sing a dirge?” Prince Henri cried.

It’s not me! Bradley pressed a hand to his chest and felt nothing but his heart. No surge of magic. So where was it coming from?

Movement by the window.

A red snout slid into view, and a golden eye winked at him.

“Dirk,” Bradley signed. “You could be seen!”

The Mini Red shrugged.

“What are you doing here?” Had he lost track of the time?

Bubbles rose from water as Sir Beauregard shouted something incoherent and slapped at the sides of the toilet bowl. The silk stocking held him fast, anchoring itself to the tank.

“Just say you’re sorry and maybe you won’t drown,” Duncan pleaded.

“Though you’ll still have to drink a healing potion,” Jax laughed. “Who knows how thoroughly you cleaned that toilet?”

Sir Beauregard flung up his hands in surrender.

Dirk flicked his claws and jerked his head out of sight.

The silk stocking went slack, and the knight lurched upright with a gasp.

Bradley exhaled slowly, the tension draining from his shoulders. His hands, which he didn’t remember clenching, relaxed, and a sudden pain radiated from his left palm.

The pins he had wrenched from his mouth to confront Sir Beauregard were melted.

What the⁠—?

Sir Beauregard slapped the hair from his eyes and smeared the water from his face. His sodden trousers squelched as he spun about on his knees to look at Bradley. Jax and Duncan turned, too, and they discovered the dragon’s valet sitting on his stool and calmly snipping the thread off the mended sleeve.

“Archmaster,” Duncan whispered.

Bradley didn’t look up, feigning nonchalance. “And what did we learn?”

“S-Sorry,” Sir Beauregard gasped.

Jax whacked him in the shoulder.

“Sir. Sorry, sir.”

Bradley finally deigned to look at them. “You three will finish all preparations before lunch, is that quite clear?”

“Yes, sir,” the three answered quickly.

“Henri, another tune, if you please.”

“That’s Prince Henri,” the frog grumbled. “And I don’t dabble with tunes.” Nevertheless, he began to sing.