Page 13 of The Discount Damsel

His friend helped him adjust at an accelerated rate. “Egad, man! Why are you naked? We have guests!”

Bradley dropped tail and ankle, plucked up his sodden robe from the washtub, and yanked it over his groin.

“Ah, so doing one’s wash in only one’s boots and spectacles isn’t local custom,” the lady surmised. “I was concerned for a moment. This sun, you know? Seems dreadfully oppressive. And please excuse my error in misgendering you earlier—I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man with hair as long as yours before.”

Bradley hadn’t had a haircut since the start of last semester, which was over six months ago, and he usually wore his hair on the longer side from his days on the Cut to protect his neck and ears from the sun. But that was all beside the point!

With his hands preserving his modesty, Bradley found himself unable to sign a tirade demanding why Dirk had just brought a highborn lady to their tower, so he fixed his best glower on the dragon and demanded, with effort, “G-g-guests?”

The singular guest in question was on the rounder side of what was currently fashionable with long auburn hair heavily tousled from her flight, intelligent brown eyes, and a personality that was anything but the imperious, condescending air of those who normally wore rose-pink taffeta. She was currently loosening her corset, shucking her pointy-toed shoes, and wiggling stocking-covered toes. What kind of highborn lady did that?

Once she was more comfortable, she tucked her feet under her hem and stood. From her bold presence, Bradley expected her to be tall enough to look him in the eye, but the top of her head came only to the bottom of his chin.

“Millie Angelique Tisane, former princess of Amberly and aspiring pirate. And I suppose a dragon’s hostage now. This is my cat, Duchess. How do you do?” She thrust her hand out for him to shake in the common way.

He just stared at it. At her. A princess? A hostage? Wait just a second⁠—

Millie flashed an apologetic smile and yanked her hand back. “Oh, excuse me. Yes, you can’t very well shake my hand without possibly exposing yourself again. Not that you have anything to be ashamed about.” Her cheeks colored, and she spun towards the baby dragon. “Master Dirk, you mentioned— Ah ha! I knew there was something off about your wings!”

“My wings?” Dirk swiveled his head around just in time to witness his wings shrivel like spinach leaves when dropped into a hot skillet. There was a muted pop a second later, and the wings disappeared entirely.

“Scales!” Bradley pointed, panicked.

Before the sorcerer apprentice could renew the enchantments—if his stutter would’ve even let him—the baby dragon’s multitude of spells wore off entirely. He shrank from a muscled five-hundred-pound hulk of a dragon to a lean and slinky thirty-pound skink. His voice rose three octaves, and his scales . . .

Gone were the ruby-red, armored scales and the crown of yellow horns upon his brow.

Cerulean scales, smooth and shimmering, rippled along his length. The feathered mane and tail tuft had returned, too, and twin spiraling horns shone as pearly white as his claws.

Millie gasped with delight. “You’re a luck dragon!”

Dirk and Bradley both tensed as the former-princess-turned-pirate-aspirant rushed forward with a cacophonous rustle of taffeta. The baby dragon’s anonymity was the only thing keeping him safe, and now a princess knew there was a luck dragon beyond the safety of Tianzi’s mist-shrouded borders. She would boast and gossip to everyone, as royals often did to make themselves appear more important in the eyes of their peers, and the dragon’s secret would be exposed. Armies would come to the tower for his heart, especially Leighton’s.

Abandoning his robe and his modesty, Bradley surged forward. It would be no difficulty at all to subdue this princess and lock her in the tower dungeon for the remainder of his time here. Or throw her over the balcony and let her take her chances with the desert, whichever course of action seemed most prudent after he captured her.

But the princess caught them both off guard once again.

“It’s such a pleasure to meet you,” she gushed at Dirk, performing another formal dragon greeting bow.

The baby dragon and the sorcerer apprentice shared a quick glance. This wasn’t the behavior of a princess who would take advantage of Dirk’s abilities for her own selfish gains. In fact, this wasn’t the typical behavior of a princess at all. She was excited rather than hysterical, spoke congenially instead of snootily, and she wasn’t making any demands to be un-kidnapped this very instant. There was only one reasonable explanation for such odd behavior.

The princess was defective.

Dirk hadn’t returned her greeting before, since there had been cannons and longbows aimed in his direction, but this time, the little dragon touched his nose to Millie’s waiting, outstretched palms. Her smile was so full of delight and wonder, Dirk found himself grinning and Bradley began to think that throwing the princess over the balcony was no longer necessary. Except she did mention she wanted to be a pirate, and since they were the bane of his former existence, she might still be very deserving of a toss over the railing.

“So it really is true luck dragons can fly without wings! Are you also, as legend says, masters of the wind and rain? Do you have to bestow your luck on anyone who asks, or can you decide who is worthy and parcel it out at your discretion? And your scales . . . I thought all luck dragons were white?”

Dirk’s feathered mane and tail tuft fluffed out like the fur of a bristling cat. The princess had touched on a volatile subject, and Bradley knew from the way Dirk’s upper lip trembled to keep from showing his fangs that the baby dragon was remembering that rainy day in the lilac garden by the lake.

Millie gave a dismissive flick of her hand, but it was only in regards to her last comment, not the dragon’s reaction. “Who cares, though, right? You look glorious, Master Dirk, like liquid sapphire. And— Oh! Is this one of your scales?”

She crouched down and reached for a cerulean coin that had fallen, unbeknownst to anyone, to the balcony floor by Dirk’s front paws. “Huh, that’s odd. I didn’t think dragons ever shed their scales, unless⁠—”

“It’s just a sapphire!” Dirk’s anger was forgotten, replaced by alarm, and he plucked up the gem and stuffed it into his satchel. Or attempted to, since the satchel was already full to bursting. When it wouldn’t fit, he kept it in his closed paw tucked tight against his chest. “Sometimes I get paid in bacon and bolts of cloth,” he sniffed with forced nonchalance, “sometimes it’s jewels.”

“Who paid you to kidnap me, anyway?”

“I think the more pressing question here is, how do you know so much about dragons?”