Page 134 of The Discount Damsel

“Ah-ha!” The apprentice emerged from the clutter with a familiar gold jewelry box clutched in his hands. He raced over to the desk to recheck his translation. “Caelus’s Stars, this is it.”

“Feel free to explain at any time.” Dirk dunked and devoured another treat. “These little nibbles are divine, Millie. What are they?”

“Teacakes.”

“When will you be making more?”

“Shhh.” She gave him the plate and stepped forward. “Mr. Donmarin?”

He glanced up from the jewelry box at her, and she found herself smiling at the boyish delight on his face. The relief. The unguarded hope. The fine lines that gave his face its serious countenance had vanished.

He’s really not that much older than me, she realized. It seemed they’d both forgotten that.

“Watch,” he whispered.

Bradley opened the jewelry box, eyes slitting as sunlight lanced off the golden lid like a shooting star. He lifted the nautilus necklace by its chain and approached the gray stone frog with the garnet carbuncle eyes.

“This isn’t a statue,” he said. “This is a Tianzi Toad.”

“Never seen one of those in my life,” Dirk said, voice thickened by the teacakes. He guzzled the tisane straight from the spout, burped.

“You wouldn’t have.”

“Is this another one of those things I wouldn’t know because I haven’t grown out my barbels yet?”

“They reside in caves, Dirk. Deep in the ground.”

“Ah, yes. That makes sense why I wouldn’t have seen one. Caves. Dreadful places. You can’t see the sky from there.” He helped himself to another teacake, content he wasn’t being insulted.

“You make it sound like it should be alive, Bradley.” Millie rapped her knuckles against the toad’s granite head. “It’s quite literally hard as a rock.”

“Just wait.” Holding his breath, Bradley placed the necklace into the laughing toad’s mouth.

The fat lips snapped shut, and its jeweled eyes flashed red.

“Egad,” the dragon cried.

The princess gasped.

Bradley sank to his knees, cradled his head in his hands, and wept.

CHAPTER 55

A NEWFOUND FRIEND, SCAVENGER HUNTS, AND LIMP NOODLES

Millie was unaccustomed to the apprentice emoting something other than disdain or superiority—those few compassionate moments aside—and here he was on his knees with his eyes leaking. She shoved Dirk. “Do something.”

“Me? What can I do? Human bodies don’t like it when I try to put tears back into their ducts. Don’t ask me how I know.” He snapped his claws. “I’ll get Duchess. She’s the best emotional support cuddler ever.”

The Mini Red flashed into the stairwell, hollering for the white cat.

Millie considered returning to the kitchen for Fink for a similar purpose, who’d been happily snacking on his pat of butter by the windowsill, but she didn’t want Bradley to be alone. She set the plate and mug down on the edge of the desk and wiped the sweat from her palms on her apron. Wringing her hands, she stepped forward and risked setting a hand on his trembling shoulder. “Mr. Donmarin.”

The apprentice shot to his feet, and suddenly Millie squeaked, caught in his tight embrace. He shuddered, face pressed into her hair, trying to stifle the onslaught of emotion. To hide. As startled as she was, Millie relaxed and held him.

She knew what it was like to hide your true feelings about something you cared deeply about. Neither her parents nor her sister, and certainly not her governesses or etiquette tutors, had ever taken her dreams seriously. So she’d stopped talking about them, storing them up inside her until that fateful day in the greenhouse patio when she’d finally come unhinged. Spectacularly so.

Soon the apprentice calmed, choking on one or two persistent sobs. He pulled away, lifting his spectacles and smearing the heel of his hand against his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I-I⁠—”