Page 79 of The Discount Damsel

“You left me locked in that closet for over an hour!” Millie lobbed a comb at him.

She hadn’t received the proper training in knife throwing from Sir Roger yet, so the comb didn’t impale the apprentice, but Dirk admired her pluck.

“I would have peed myself if I hadn’t sweated all the water out of my body first. And that silk blouse I found? It’s absolutely ruined now because of that sweat. How am I supposed to be the most fashionable pirate to ever sail the high seas when you keep ruining all my fine things? First the taffeta, now the silk, and you still haven’t explained why I had to hide in the first place.”

“I w-would if y-you’d stop th-throwing things at m-me!”

“Hey,” Dirk said, “you barely stuttered that time. Just like yesterday!”

Millie paused her attack to beam a grin at the little dragon. “He didn’t stutter at all an hour ago. Shouted clearly and succinctly right in my face.”

“Jubilations!”

“I know, right?” From heap of clothes, she tugged loose a corset decorated with little flowers and shimmied into it. Gave the strings a tug to tighten it and tied a pleasant little bow. “Clearly my tutoring has paid off.”

Bradley didn’t get to celebrate with them, or clarify that the victory was his alone, because the princess’s mood shifted like a fickle wind and she was back to throwing things at him again.

“Not only did you ruin my new clothes and scuff my new shoes, you haven’t had the decency to make us any breakfast yet! Who was that woman, anyway?”

“D-do you w-want an answer, or do you w-want to keep throwing th-things?” Bradley barked.

The princess thought about that. “Yes,” she answered and launched the parasol at him. “You can explain while I finish getting ready. Shoo.”

Before Bradley knew what had happened, the princess had ushered him and Dirk out onto the landing and locked him out of his own bedroom. And unlike her, he didn’t know how to pick locks.

“Go on,” Dirk urged. “Use your almost stutter-free voice.”

Bradley rolled his eyes at the description but still favored the little dragon with a quick smile. So, with only a few stumbling words, Bradley explained through the door who Miss Penelope was and why it was important she never discover the princess and the hedge knight.

Millie emerged from the bedroom with a lightweight linen skirt, soft leather roper boots, and the embroidered corset. The pommel of her letter opener peeked above her cleavage, and her reticule dangled off her wrist, removed of nonessentials in preparation for this day’s Anti-Fainting Noshables, since this skirt didn’t have pockets. She finished tying off her braided hair with a piece of ribbon and flicked the wet rope over her shoulder. The restorative moonstone bath had done wonders for her hands, so she only slipped on a pair of soft leather gloves today instead of her bandages.

“So Miss Penelope could put the kibosh on this whole operation and it’s in our best interests for her never to know me or mine were ever here,” she summarized. “Got it. So, breakfast?”

The apprentice crossed his arms over his chest. Just because he was relieved that Miss Penelope hadn’t discovered their secret didn’t mean he’d forgotten about the fiasco this morning. It was time to remind this princess, yet again, who ruled this tower. “Training b-before b-breakfast. Y-you k-know the r-rules.”

The corner of her eye twitched, then she bared a smile at him. “And you’re still having difficulty with your Bs. Guess you’re going to practice ‘Bradley bumbles blindly before baboons’ today.”

“Aww, but I’m hungry,” Dirk complained. “Hiding all that treasure in my mattress was hard work. And I maintained a whole tornado for over an hour. I need carbs!”

Eyes on the princess, the apprentice ignored him and pointed to the stairs. “March.”

The princess spun to face the stairs with enough force to whip the apprentice with her braid. Bradley grunted.

“Hmm, we need to work on your enunciation,” Millie mused as she descended the stairs. “And to think we were past the point of you sounding like a Neanderthal.”

She’d only taken a step before the melody of a familiar bugle echoed through the tower.

“A Lord Frederick B. Smith for the Dragon Dirk the Dangerous,” Sir Eustace announced.

Dirk seized the front of Bradley’s robe. “Did Miss Penelope bring the rice paper?”

“Lots. B-b-but it’s g-g-gonna t-t-take t-t-time t-t-t⁠—”

“Take a breath, everyone,” Mutineer Millie commanded. “Master Dirk, relieve Mr. Donmarin of his key and go release Sir Roger. He will coach you from the training room as before. You, Mr. Donmarin, will go to the kitchen and write the necessary spells. I’ll go vet the Hero.” She clapped her hands. “Quick march now!”

Millie thumped up the steps to the workroom and heaved open the trapdoor. She checked her reflection in the abalone-framed mirror and decided a more disheveled appearance was required. Dirk needed a lot more training before he was ready to take on another experienced knight, and if she could gift him that time by dissuading this Hero from attacking because he found her undesirable, then all the better.

She unbound her hair, loosened the top of her corset, removed her chemise, and tucked the hem of her skirt into her belt to reveal her ankles and a scandalous amount of leg, too. Much more strumpet-like, she snatched an amber bottle off the shelves to really sell it and strutted out onto the eastern balcony.