Page 129 of The Discount Damsel

Yes, opposite ends of the tower was the perfect solution. And it began here. “Tula, stop.”

Her booted feet resolutely stomped up the stairs, avoiding the glowing hermit crabs that scuttled to get out of the way. “I’m not stopping until I’ve put at least half this tower between me and your ego or I get my hands on that healing kelp, whichever comes first. You want to keep arguing, keep up!”

“There’s kelp right here.”

Millie halted a few stairs above him, checked the location of the kitchen archway relative to her position, and turned around. “Nice try. And damn you. I had really good momentum going there.”

“I’m serious.” With one hand on the (newly polished) door handle, he stretched the other towards her, beckoning. “You want to know why I’ve been elusive this past week? It’s not what you think.”

Scowling, she debated the distance required to the kitchen versus the few steps to the door he had already opened.

“There had better be kelp in here or I’m hitting every pressure point on your body and leaving you to fester in your own filth on the floor,” she grumbled, barging past him.

Millie stopped short, only a step over the threshold, mouth parting in a soundless gasp. Her throat bobbed, swallowing once, twice, then she croaked, “What is this place?”

“It’s for you.” Bradley placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her inside another step.

“This is . . . for me?”

The desert air stirred the curtains at the windows, the repaired shutters thrust open to encourage a cross-breeze. It fluttered in the orange gauze suspended over the canopy bed, rustled in the white fringe of the bedspread, and pulled the perfume from the potted desert rose atop the nightstand.

The desert rose motif was everywhere but not overwhelming. Stitched in the upholstery of the vanity stool, carved into the frame of the vanity mirror, painted on the silk screens that provided privacy for dressing.

Colorful tapestries depicting the beauty that could be found in the desert adorned the walls, and a rug with plush piling cushioned the stone floor. Everywhere there was pink, orange, and lemony silk and accents of cobalt blue on the shutters and in the tiles in the adjoining bathroom. And though the suite furnishings had been collected from many different rooms in the tower, they all shared the same rich chestnut hue that made the rest of the colors pop.

Millie’s vision began to glaze and gloss the longer she stared, and a single tear slipped down her cheek.

Bradley’s fingers twitched to reach up and brush it away. Instead he retreated to the bathroom and retrieved the kelp.

The princess was still trance-like when he returned, blinking in stunned silence, little gasps the only breath keeping her from succumbing to unconsciousness. She didn’t even seem aware of him as he treated and bound her hands with kelp and gauze.

Uncomfortable with her silence, for this princess always had an opinion about everything, he launched into a tour.

“It’s got its own bathroom with a tub, of course. And there’s literally every medicinal salve, poultice, and cream I could find in the tower—and the kelp—in the bathroom cupboard. Figured you’d be needing one or all of them in the future with your training.”

No reply.

“Over here”—he strode quickly to the wardrobe and flung it open—“all of your shoes. I converted the shelves into shoe racks. And over here”—he drew her attention to the dresser⁠—

“all your nightclothes and, uh, undergarments. I found more, obviously, so you can return those boxer briefs anytime.”

His joke felt flat, the princess only blinking long wet lashes.

Bradley swallowed and fought against the unease rising in his stomach like buttermilk after a vigorous beating in the butter churn. Why wasn’t she smiling? Skipping? Running amok with the same glee she had when looting the rooms? She should be happy, ecstatic as a puppy racing through a field of wildflowers after her favorite human. But she just stood there, dumb.

“This is what’s really exciting about this room, though,” he rallied, flinging open a set of double doors. “A walk-in closet. The biggest one this tower has to offer, actually. And look at this—Duncan installed it.”

“Duncan?” she echoed.

“All the Heroes helped.” He struck a match and shielded it from the crosswind. “I snuck them out while you trained with Sir Roger. They cleaned and moved furniture and didn’t have any time to brawl.”

Bradley lit the taper candle positioned just inside the closet doorway and blew out the match. The mirror behind the candle flame threw the light forward, and the convex glass positioned in front of the flame beamed the light across the closet to another mirror. Then another. The light bounced off an entire series of little mirrors until the entire space was illuminated with a soft yellow glow.

Millie joined him inside the closet with her bandaged hands cradled to her chest. Turned a small circle. All of her clothes were neatly hung, and there were far more hanging from the racks than she’d ever amassed herself. He’d collected it all for her: Silks, linens, taffeta, tulle. Dresses, skirts, blouses, corsets, robes, shawls. Some embroidered with beads, others trimmed in ribbon or lace. She even recognized one beautiful damask dress that had once been too small for her now tailored to fit perfectly. There were hat boxes lining the shelves above the clothes, which she couldn’t wait to unbox, but she was as stupefied as a gargoyle was petrified.

“When . . .?”

“I scavenged after you went to bed.”