Page 160 of The Discount Damsel

“But didn’t you vow to kill Master Dirk and Bradley when you were made a prince again?” Sitting on the edge of the spring, Millie dipped one foot into the spring and shivered with visible pleasure.

Bradley’s throat dried up like a drought-choked desert.

“Yes, well, I have a duty to my country and my people,” the frog insisted. “They are in need of a queen, and I’m in need of an heir, and I’ll not have any competition thwarting either endeavor.”

“And you wonder why no one’s kissed you yet.”

“Rejection,” Dirk cackled, flicking his tail and ejecting the frog prince out of the water.

Pocket caught the wailing frog and stuffed him back in the birdcage. Fink slapped it shut and nosed the latch into place.

“Chauvinists get the cage, Henri,” Pocket said. “And a time-out.”

“Don’t take me back to the workroom! It’ll be covered in sand by now⁠—”

“No, it won’t,” Bradley countered.

“—and you know what sand does to my pores!”

Pocket’s steps were determined if labored—she wasn’t used to the constant up-down of the tower steps yet. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the consequences of your actions coming home to roost. Bah-cock!” The pickpocket sniggered as the frog prince sulked at the bottom of his cage.

Sir Roger joined the others in their dispersal, making for his cot and one of his treasured naps, leaving Dirk, Millie, and Bradley to enjoy the effervescent spring by themselves.

The spawning shrimps turned the water nearly white with tiny bubbles, which tickled them pleasantly. When they finally breached the surface, the flying shrimp spread their gossamer wings and spiraled two-by-two into the tower. Dirk blew on them gently to guide their flight to the tower stones. The moment they touched the stones, there was a flash of light. When it dimmed, a new crystal glowed in the tower.

“This is so magical,” Millie whispered, lifting a handful of bubbles to the surface. “But don’t we have to worry about the grouper?”

“Not today,” Dirk said gleefully. Whether he knew it or not, the magic infused in the water was eating away at his illusion. He was far less Mini Red and more carmine luck dragon now. “Their magic and all these bubbles hide me from the fish. I can stay here as long as I want. It’s almost like I’m flying in the clouds again.”

The luck dragon squealed and dove out of sight.

“How’s your shoulder?”

Millie stifled a yelp when she realized Bradley was right there. The howling of the sandstorm outside and all the bubbling water had muffled the sounds of his approach. His black hair framed his sharp jaw in long inky waves, and the rippling water reflected in the blue of his eyes. The strong column of his neck and the muscled breadth of his shoulders above the waterline did something erratic to her pulse. If she hadn’t known any better, she would’ve thought him a siren come to seduce her with a song.

“M-my shoulder?”

“Where you fell.”

“Oh.” She massaged the joint. “It’s alright. It’d probably be better if I submerged it, but . . .”

“You don’t want to let go of the ledge because you can’t swim.” He held out his hand.

She looked at it like he was offering her a spider. “What?”

“I dismissed your tutor before he could teach you to swim. It’s only right that I make up for this deficit in your education.”

That was an offer Mutineer Millie couldn’t resist, even if her heart was doing this strange flippity-flop in her chest like a young rabbit tumbling gaily through a field of red clover. So much for adjusting to a new course.

“Oh, um.” She slid her hand into his.

She yelped in surprise as he twirled her around so her back lay flush against his chest. Then she panicked, the wall suddenly so far away.

“I’ve got you, Tula. Lie back.”

“Are you crazy?” She practically climbed him, wrapping arms and legs around his waist and chest just like the pink octopus he claimed her be. “I want the wall!”

“Stop thrashing.” His order was concise and brusque, but not without compassion. “I’m your wall now.”