Page 201 of The Discount Damsel

“Fiiine.”

Millie held her breath and secured her bonnet more tightly against her head. Bradley pulled the hood of his robe up over his head and opened the parasol. With both of them gripping the rod, they lowered it like a shield in front of them and advanced on the southeastern wedge.

The moment they crossed over the center point of the attic, the pigeons launched into the air. A flurry of feathers, dander, and droppings choked the air. Millie tucked in tight behind the parasol, drawing deep breaths from the handkerchief, and leaned her full weight forward. Bradley braced a hand against the boning of the parasol as the pigeons buffeted against the fabric, ripping rents in the silk. Together the two trudged deeper into enemy territory, muscles straining against the assault.

“Now!”

They swept the ruined parasol up and over their heads, directing the wave of attacking pigeons away from them, and Bradley rushed forward to the cupboard revealed in the wall behind the nests. Only a simple latch secured it, but years of pigeon filth required he jam his elbow against it to break the glue seizing the latch.

By now the parasol was truly savaged, and Millie swung it through the air like her cutlass, bashing the birds away from her.

The moment Bradley yanked open the cupboard doors, the birds quieted. They returned to their roosts as if they hadn’t just been possessed, cooing and straightening their feathers. Bradley, hands scratched and bleeding, lifted the silver scroll tube from its pillow and cradled it against his chest.

“I’ve got it,” he whispered.

A moment later they were safe in the workroom, the attic door secured behind them, and huddled over Bradley’s old folding table. Balancing on his rear legs, Dirk braced his claws against the edge of the table and craned forward.

“Well?” he asked.

“The spell’s got to be inside.” Bradley gave the cap a twist, but it didn’t budge. He tried the other end to the same result.

The princess took it from him and examined the silverwork. “This is a Tianzi puzzle box, or tube, whatever. Crone’s Crooked Tits. Getting in there won’t be straightforward.”

“Shit.” Dirk slumped to the floor.

“Never mind that now.” She tossed the tube back to Bradley and picked Dirk off the floor like he was a child, propping him up on her hip. “Let’s get you in the tub, okay, Master Dirk? Water always makes you feel better. And we need to tell the others we’re back. I’ll get them to help haul that magic water up from the spring. Won’t that be nice?”

“It does feel the best,” he agreed, albeit a smidge reluctantly.

“Bradley?” she prompted.

Bradley hauled the stuffed armchair out of the clutter and sat. “I’m going to stay here and try to figure this out.”

Millie squeezed his shoulder. He covered her hand with his, squeezed back. “Hurry,” she mouthed.

When she reached her room and nudged open the door with her hip, two heads popped up from beneath the feather duvet on her bed like inquisitive whistle pigs.

“Bestie,” Pocket cried as Duncan shrieked, “Miss Millie!”

Millie’s gaze cut to the flurry of cards spread across the duvet. Smirking, she moved towards the adjoining bathroom and the large claw-foot tub inside. “I don’t care what you’re doing so long as you change the sheets before tonight. Also, you need to take a break and haul some water up from the spring for Dirk. He’s not well.”

“You sick, Shorty?” Pocket scrambled out of bed and padded—in looted lingerie—into the bathroom behind them.

Millie eased the Mini Red into the tub and started the water. Regular tap water would have to do until they could collect some from the spring.

Dirk only grunted.

“Never has that dragon not answered me without a string of run-on sentences.” Pocket darted out of the bathroom and snatched a fresh dress from her side of the closet. Then she donned all her purses.

Duncan hadn’t moved from the bed, frozen in place, so Pocket scooped up his shirt and threw it into his face. “Come on, Duncan.”

The gnome quickly put on his shirt, scurried out from under the duvet, and hopped from one foot to the other, putting on his boots. “Nothing happened, Miss Millie, I swear.”

“Don’t I know it,” Pocket groused. “Out!”

Millie followed them out, suppressing a smile. “Also, where is Prince Henri? I didn’t see the birdcage in the workroom when we arrived.”

“He’s been relocated to the kitchen,” Pocket answered. “He’s become a bit addicted to the mead after the defeat of the Tianzi Toad, I’m afraid. But he’s so much nicer when he’s tipsy, so we all decided that, for the sake of morale, we’d let the little lush get as snockered as he wants. Fink’s in there making sure he doesn’t drown or anything.”