Page 108 of The Discount Damsel

“But—”

“You wouldn’t understand, Millie! Even though you want to be a pirate instead of a princess, you still belong somewhere. You told me yourself your family is wonderful and your castle a dream.”

Millie didn’t say anything, just took a seat on the edge of the bathtub beside the dragon.

“I never belonged.” Dirk scraped a paw against the treasure, copper coins clinking. “When we met, you said you thought all luck dragons were white. They are. White as pearl with horns as gold as sunlight. And here I am with scales as blue as the sky. Deficient.”

“Are you deficient?”

“Look at me!”

“I’m not talking about your scales, Dirk. You can rouse tornadoes and save a man from falling to his death with just the wind. You can pull water out of thin air—thin, desert air. You can even command a man’s circulatory and respiratory systems. Something very, very precise. Is that deficient for luck dragons your age?”

Dirk sniffled. “I-I don’t know. I don’t know what my littermates are capable of—they were always flying away from me on the tails of the wind.”

She cradled his jaw in her hand. “Let them fly on the tails of the wind, Master Dirk, while you command the wind itself.”

“You’ve ruined me for all other princesses, you know that, right?” The luck dragon hugged her, his serpentine body coiling tight around her waist.

“And you’ve ruined all luck dragons for me.” Millie stroked his feathers, ruffling that spot between his horns. “I won’t tell Mr. Donmarin, for now, but we cannot ignore this, alright? We must find some answers. But first, let’s calm down with some nice oolong.”

Millie retrieved the tea tray and gestured to the tub of treasure. “Do you mind?”

Dirk shook his head.

Balancing the tray, the princess stepped into the dragon’s treasure tub and sat, wiggling her backside into a more comfortable position upon the coins and gems. It wasn’t unlike sitting upon the pebbled shore of the River Steeping by the castle, so it was entirely tolerable for up to twenty-seven minutes.

Millie craned forward and set the tray down between them, poured the oolong, and leaned back with her knees drawn up to her chest and her cup cradled by her throat. The rich familiar scent of delicious tea well brewed was more calming than fresh air.

“I don’t pretend to know much about luck dragons,” she said after a sip, “but I have heard legends from the winged dragons that visit Amberly. A dragon losing his scales becomes a wyrm—spelled with a Y. Do you know what that is?”

Dirk, his mouth full of sardines, shook his head.

“Crone’s Crooked Tits, neither do I. They wouldn’t speak of it. But it’s a start. Do you think the workroom has any books on dragonlore?”

The little luck dragon was feeling much better after his bath, half a cup of oolong, two fat lychee jellies, and a whole tin of sardines, so much so that he was thinking clearly for the first time in recent memory. “I’ve already looked, and I’ve searched Sir Eustace’s camp, too⁠—”

“Why you cheeky little sneak.” Millie winked.

Dirk grinned. The relief he felt that he could finally unburden himself to someone made the words tumble from him at an accelerated rate. He scooted closer.

“I found nothing on dragonlore except this note in the back of a book that referenced the Library of Xandria. But yesterday I finally found mention of it again in an old travel guide. It’s in Pierpont. In a converted lighthouse. Or maybe the library was converted into a lighthouse. Whatever. But it’s said to contain all the knowledge dragons have amassed over the last five centuries.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “It’s even guarded by Komodo monks.”

“Really?” She leaned forward eagerly. “I’ve never met a Komodo before, but I’ve heard a tale or two about them. Apparently they’re either Type-A personality nerds or irredeemable Casanovas with lust-inducing pheromones—” Millie stopped herself before she disappeared down an irrelevant rabbit hole and swept her previous remarks aside. “But the library is in Pierpont. How does that help us?”

Dirk’s scales brightened. His princess—his friend—had said us.

“Bradley writes me spells every morning, but he doesn’t check which ones I use. I could stockpile indurus spells and make the trip.”

She bit down on the corner of her bottom lip. “But what if a Hero comes to rescue me while you’re away? Sir Roger says I’m a promising student, but I have no illusions. I’m not the One in Ten. Yet. And Mr. Donmarin wouldn’t lift a finger to help me. In fact, I’m sure he’d be elated to be rid of me.”

The statement hurt, but no other conclusion could be drawn from their fight in the training room. Nobody enjoyed feeling unwanted, and those who claimed it didn’t bother them were only fooling themselves.

“Never mind Mr. Grumpy Robes.” Dirk slouched against the wall of his half of the tub and stuffed another lychee jelly into his mouth. “Having my princess snatched out from under my nose would be a sure-fire way to bungle my first princess-napping, wouldn’t it? Sir Eustace would definitely dock me points, and Dirk the Dangerous would be a laughingstock as much as Lung Shang ever was.”

“As much as who?”

The luck dragon quickly shook his head. “Nothing. More tea?”