Page 207 of The Discount Damsel

“We’re not here for the princess, you overgrown gnome,” the knight barked. “Leighton’s already got one of those on the hook. We’re here for that dragon’s heart.” He turned back to the crew manning the monstrous crossbow. “Fire!”

CHAPTER 84

UNGRATEFUL WENCHES AND A PIRATE’S FINAL EXAM

The sounds of battle drifted down the tower stairwell to the spring, and an enraged fat grub of a baby luck dragon broke out of his washtub.

“These asshats think they can come into my tower and steal my treasure? My princess?” Dirk charged the stairs on his stubby legs, grinding the sand beneath his paws. Millie grabbed his tail. “Unhand me, you ungrateful wench. You are mine!”

The almost-wyrm thrashed like an alligator, and Millie fell hard on her butt as the scales beneath her hands gave way. Like sapphire coins, they slipped through her fingers and thudded softly into the sand. Scales actively fell from his body and clinked against the stone steps of the winding staircase. The rest of his feathered mane suddenly dropped like snow shed from a pine tree after the first kiss of spring’s warmth.

“I’m going to use your heads for bowling balls,” Dirk shouted at the soldiers, though none could hear him. “Maybe I’ll even fry up your testicles in your own fat and see what Ivar the Bane was raving about. Who knows? Could be tasty!”

Millie spun away from the raging dragon and darted into the dungeons. She yanked the first wooden cot she came upon from its cell and rushed back to the spring, lobbed it in. Then she shed herself of anything that might weigh her down, dropping reticule, belt, and cutlass into the sand. Grabbing hold of the almost-wyrm’s tail again, she reeled him in like a trout.

Dirk spun with a swipe of his claws. “You traitorous bitch!”

Millie danced away and retrieved her cutlass. Keeping the point lowered at the sand, she held up a warning hand. “Dirk, don’t make me do this.”

“You’ve been in league with the humans this entire time, haven’t you? You were only pretending to be my friend so you could take my heart whenever you wanted!” He charged her, teeth snapping.

The wyrm Dirk was becoming did not possess the skill or agility of his former self. He was still quick, though, and had become so fat he could easily bowl her over. Millie skipped to the side and batted his jaws away with the flat of her blade. Then, risking it all, she dropped her cutlass, hooked her arms beneath the dragon’s belly, and heaved him into the spring. She wasn’t fast enough to avoid his club-like tail, which bashed against the side of her head.

Millie went down with a cry, and Dirk sank below the surface of the water with a howl. Scrambling to the ledge of the spring, Millie watched in horror as the fat almost-wyrm disappeared below a curtain of bubbles. No matter how hard he paddled his short little legs or whipped his tail like an eel, Dirk could not fight against gravity’s pull.

“Bradley!” Millie screamed, desperate for help. She shucked her belt and its sheath and dove into the water after the dragon.

There was no hate in Dirk’s brown eyes, only fear. She grabbed one paw, and he clung onto her arm with the other. Lungs burning, legs aching, she swam for the surface until black spots speckled across her eyes. With a final push, she breached and hooked her free arm around the stone wall to anchor herself above the water.

“Piss . . . and plagues,” she panted.

She wasn’t fully recovered, but she couldn’t risk waiting another moment. She heaved, shoved, rolled, and otherwise squished Dirk onto the floating-cot-turned-raft. The thin wooden frame dipped dangerously under the almost-wyrm’s weight, but held. The few scales that still clung to him glistened like jewels. A few, as if lubricated by the water, sloughed off onto the raft.

The thought of those scales slipping off the raft and sinking to depths from which they could never be recovered was unbearable. Millie quickly collected the shed scales and piled them on one of the flat stones of the spring’s wall.

Waves created by their recent excursions lapped against Dirk’s sides and sluiced over his muzzle. The almost-wyrm shifted on the raft, sputtering, then sagged with a moan.

“Millie.” Dirk’s voice was so soft.

“I’m here.”

She pushed away from the wall but didn’t dare add her weight to the raft, not even to keep herself buoyed. Instead, she placed a hand against his bloated cheek and treaded water. Flecks of gold had returned to Dirk’s brown eyes.

“You’re not a wench,” he sobbed. “Or a bitch.”

“Thank you, Dirk.” She could thank her first etiquette tutor, Miss Josephine, for the calm and gracious manner in which she received his apology, even though every fiber of her being wanted to scream. Where was that infernal apprentice? “Bradley’s coming with a spell. Can you hold on?”

“I’ll try.” His paw grabbed her arm when she shifted away, clamped down hard. “Please don’t leave me.”

“I’m just going to the ledge so I can call for Bradley again. It’s a bit loud outside, and maybe he didn’t hear me the first time. Dirk, you need to let go. Remember, I’m still new to swimming.”

“Oh, right.” The claws that had cut into her skin pulled back as his paw relaxed and released her. Threads of blood tracked down to her wrist. “You’re doing . . . great.” His voice sounded so far away.

“Hold on, Dirk.”

“Uh-huh,” he murmured.

Spitting the water from her mouth, Millie hauled herself up onto the spring wall and craned back as far as her spine would allow. “Brad-LEYYYYY!” she bellowed.