Page 178 of The Discount Damsel

“It just needs a few homey touches. Like a vase of tulips right over there. And maybe—” Millie extracted her perfume bottle from her reticule and gave each corner of the room a healthy spritz. “That’s better, right?”

Despite the zhuzhing up, the princess wasn’t in the mood to do anything but lie down and drink the rest of her tonic, so Dirk stayed behind to keep her company and Bradley left to find his supper at Lantern & Hearth.

Nash was there, spooning out bowls of skate chowder thick with potatoes and cream. He topped each with crumbled bacon and a flourish of fresh parsley, and the kindly matron who had recommended The Dreary Pelican to them balanced a thick slice of homemade bread upon the bowl’s rim before serving.

“Where’s that lovely young lady you were with earlier?” she asked, setting the bowl down in front of him.

“Bed.”

When he didn’t elaborate, the matron nodded and tapped the table. “Well, you enjoy that.”

Bradley was starving, and the food smelled amazing, and yet all he could do was push the potatoes and bits of skate about with his spoon.

Despite the catastrophe of the morning, the princess had never given up. She hadn’t thrown a tantrum, hadn’t misdirected her anger, hadn’t broken down in despair. She’s just pivoted, one defeat after another until she was completely drained. Yet come tomorrow morning, she would be attacking this problem from another angle.

Bradley’s cheeks burned with shame. He had done none of those things when the Tianzi Toad Treasure Hunt had blown up in his face.

He ate his food without tasting it, paid for his supper with the coin the princess had given him, and shuffled back to The Dreary Pelican. In their room, Millie was curled up tight on her side at the edge of the bed and Dirk slept in her open suitcase. He carefully extracted the amber bottle from where it was nestled in the crook of her arm and set it on the nightstand.

He didn’t trust the communal bathroom for a second, so Bradley forewent brushing his teeth and examined the floor. His OCD immediately revolted at the thought of sleeping on the planks where hundreds of bare feet infested with trench foot had trod (probably), but he promptly told it to shut the hells up. Sharing a bed with the princess now didn’t seem right, especially when his emotional pendulum swayed from wanting to throttle her to kissing her senseless.

Steeling himself, he rolled his sleeves down past his hands and knelt carefully to find a spot where the mold wasn’t actively growing. Despite its shady appearance, the floor truly was clean and dry. Thank Caelus’s stars for that. He employed his knapsack as a pillow, and after a moment of fussing, he opened it to discover what kept digging into his neck.

It was a vial. Three of them, actually.

His bath oils.

Bradley sat cross-legged in the light of the single taper candle and upended the knapsack into his lap. The princess had packed him an extra robe, plenty of fresh socks and boxer briefs, plus two changes of his sleeveless undershirts. He had toiletries, including the bath oils and bubbles, and a little med-kit filled with dried kelp, gauze, antiseptic, and the seaweed ointment. He was astounded at the thoroughness and thoughtfulness. The only thing he was missing was⁠—

A piece of paper crunched beneath his elbow. Unfolding it, he held it up to the candlelight.

She had sketched a drawing of his sailboat, the little carving his father had made for him. She knew what a comfort it was to him, and of course how risky it would’ve been to bring it on the journey.

Something cracked in his chest then, heat pricking the backs of his eyes. Rising onto his knees, he dabbed the tiniest bit of seaweed ointment onto the sleeping princess’s sunburned cheeks and the red tips of her ears. Then he replaced everything in his knapsack and blew out the candle.

He traced the lines of the sailboat sketch by moonlight over and over until his eyelids grew heavy, then he fell asleep with the paper pressed over his heart.

In the morning, the princess was nowhere to be found. Yesterday’s clothes were draped across the bed, so she hadn’t been kidnapped. That didn’t stop Bradley and Dirk from thundering down the three flights of rickety steps and spilling out onto the boardwalk. She’d almost drowned yesterday, after all.

Not many stirred at this early hour—those on holiday preferred to sleep in—but they questioned all they could on the princess’s whereabouts.

“She’s about this tall with threads of gold in her auburn hair,” Bradley said, tamping down on his panic. “Chocolate-brown eyes, a smile that can light up a room. She’s probably wearing a cutlass, and she’s really pretty⁠—”

“Pretty?” Dirk interrupted. “Since when did you think Millie was pretty?”

“Oh, that young woman’s down there at ol’ Midge’s place.” The clam digger pointed halfway down the boardwalk. “See that place with all the greenery? That’s Midge’s.”

“Thank you!”

The two rushed down the boardwalk, scattering the gulls, and halted outside a building that looked like it had grown straight out of a swamp. Moss dripped from the eaves and clotted on the roof. The walls were woven from many tiny branches, most of them alive and sprouting leaves. A yellow lantern hung above the door, creaking eerily in the breeze.

“Swamp witch,” Dirk whispered. “It has to be.”

Bradley scoffed, but his senses still tingled. Just as they mustered the courage to enter, Millie exited.

“Oh, hello,” she said brightly. “C’mon, you’re just in time.”

“In time for what?” Bradley barked. “We woke up to find you gone. We’d thought you’d drowned!”