Page 11 of The Discount Damsel

“That’s mine,” Dirk protested and wiggled free.

“This?” The hooded man swung the pouch into his fist, his boot crushing the vegetable into a curd-like pulp as he straightened. “This is chump change.”

“Is there no decency left in this world?” the farmer wailed.

The stranger ignored him and rubbed the stubble on his chin with bejeweled fingers. “I’ve heard about you, Dragon. Dirk the Dangerous, right?”

Finally, someone had gotten it right. “Yes!”

“You’re new here, aren’t you? Young, too, right?”

Had his enthusiasm given him away? Dirk replied to that probing question with an unblinking stare.

“No matter. Quite the protection racket and extortion business you’ve made for yourself over the past few months.” He tossed the coin purse into the air and caught it once, twice. “Feel like upgrading to princess-napping?”

Dirk’s ears pricked. Kidnapping a princess? That was the big leagues. Not even Valafor the Vile had kidnapped a princess before he was five hundred pounds. Probably for good reason, since one needed fully developed chest, back, and wing muscles to manage the weight and thrashing of the unwilling.

But to this hooded stranger, Dirk looked every inch a capable dragon.

“Follow me.” The man turned for the forest, heading in the direction of the tavern.

Dirk stalked away from the whining cauliflower farmer and his strewn vegetables and followed after the man. He tried his best to keep his gait a professional stride and not an eager prance. Not only would the act of kidnapping a princess secure his reputation amongst the other Great Reds, the princess herself could help Bradley! How many times had he heard the other sorcerer apprentices complain that they needed to “get laid” to clear their heads and make their magical breakthroughs? And not just the male students, the females, too. The baby dragon wasn’t sure how lying down on a bed with a member of the opposite sex at night enabled such feats, but the apprentices swore by the method. Maybe it wasn’t one Bradley had tried yet?

It took maximum effort not to skip at the revelation.

When they were a little ways from the market square and the raucous music from the tavern was close enough to befuddle the ears of any eavesdroppers, the stranger turned.

It was a fluid motion, effortless, and Dirk understood then he was in the presence of someone who had either been trained to dance or to use a sword, though he saw no outline of such a weapon under the cloak. Swordsmen were cunning, devious, and this one knew how to move silently, too, if he’d been able to sneak up on the dragon and the cauliflower farmer and nick the coin purse without either of them noticing. So the stranger was either a courtier or a swordsman or maybe both, definitely a sneak, and he had an offer to make. A lord’s second son turned mercenary, perhaps?

Mercenaries had no morals, so Dirk kept his distance and his expression hard. Inside his chest, beneath the enlargement spell, his little heart beat a wild staccato. So long as his spells and enchantments held, the dragon was safe. But stress or excitement could cause him to burn through the magic faster, and he was both equally stressed by the mercenary’s presence and excited by the mercenary’s offer.

“So?” Dirk prompted, eager to get this exchange over with.

The hooded stranger tossed the cauliflower farmer’s leather pouch onto the orange pine needles at Dirk’s feet. A velvet purse followed, four times the size and pleasantly plump.

Dirk hooked the purse strings with a claw and lifted it to eye level, wiggled it loose to discover gold sovereigns and an assortment of emeralds, rubies, and sapphires. The sum inside was worth more than the whole of his treasure tub! His lips threatened to split into a grin of childlike delight, then he remembered he was a very professional and mature dragon and set the purse down with only a grunt. “Acceptable. Who am I kidnapping?”

“The princess of Amberly.”

Dirk recoiled at the venom in the stranger’s voice.

“The elder, Mildred,” he specified, “the one with brown hair.” His emerald gaze raked over Dirk’s chest and wings. “I’d say you look strong enough for the journey, but is that a fanny pack strapped to your chest? This is a serious undertaking⁠—”

“And this is a satchel, thank you very much.” To which Dirk stuffed both coin purses inside, crumpling the remaining rice paper spells. “I don’t question your methods, so I would appreciate it if you didn’t question mine. Unless you would like to kidnap the princess yourself?”

“Not at all,” he spat. The cloak swished as he crossed his arms over his chest. “It needs to be done today, Dragon. Take my coin and run, and I’ll get the prince’s guard to hunt you down and skewer your wings with their crossbows. You’ll never fly again.”

The mercenary’s threat was laced with the same vitriol Dirk had heard when he’d spoken about the princess. The dragon stood his ground, though his innards scuttled about like frightened cockroaches. Crouching down, he prepared himself to launch into the sky. He was eager to be rid of the mercenary. “I’ll have your princess in a tower by nightfall.”

The princess heard the flap of wings before she heard the screams. Intrigued, she pushed away from her melancholy (her father had grounded her, after all) at the balcony railing of her private suite and lifted curious eyes to the sky. It was a beautiful day for a kidnapping, the evening heavens blue as cornflower and the underbellies of the puffy cumulous clouds streaked with the first blush of sunset.

The breeze was robust and fragrant with the scents of supper, and the red dragon approaching her suite did an admirable job navigating the currents. There seemed to be something off about his wings: they flapped independently of each other instead of in a concerted effort, and their membranes were far too translucent, hardly thick enough to capture enough wind to maintain lift.

The red dragon released a roar meant to terrorize, but Millie only smiled. She snatched up the Persian cat before it could even think about skulking for the safety of the bedroom and the darkness under the bed. “Now this is an adventure, Duchess,” Millie whispered.

It wasn’t the same as a pirate galleon on the ocean, but the wind surely would be blowing in her hair, for how else would a dragon bring her to its tower? And she’d never been kidnapped before, so that was something definitely new and very exciting.

“Good evening,” Millie said when the dragon landed on her balcony, performing the deep bow with the accompanying elaborate hand gestures one did when formally greeting dragons.