Page 143 of The Discount Damsel

“Like boys don’t want to wiggle their toes in the sand and bitch about their spouses over sangria? Don’t gatekeep.”

Jordyn cupped her chin in her hands and leaned forward. Her pink scales rippled with excitement. “Have you set your old life on fire and are looking to start fresh somewhere else?”

Dirk recoiled at the excited gleam in Jordyn’s eyes. “N-no. I, um, was hoping to get some advice. I know you mermaids and your dolphin friends are really good at that sort of thing.”

“Quite right you are.” Lizbeth whistled. “Whisperwave, this little Mini Red who isn’t a Mini Red needs your assistance, please.”

A sleek gray body left the pod sunning themselves in the shallows and slid through the water with nary a ripple. A bottlenose snout lifted from the water, followed by two glossy black eyes.

Dirk and Whisperwave exchanged the necessary niceties before the little dragon got right down to the point: “I helped one of my friends at the expense of the other. And now I’m . . . itchy.”

“Were your intentions good?” asked the dolphin.

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Then the solution to your problem is simple. You make it up to your wronged friend by apologizing, explaining yourself, and doing something meaningful for them.”

Dirk was very thankful he hadn’t paid for this advice. If all it took was saying “I’m sorry” and gifting Millie with more spices to make another batch of those scrumptious teacakes, he would’ve skipped the Coral Coast altogether and would’ve gone straight to the market stalls along the Strip.

Whisperwave, who was indeed very perceptive, clarified, “I said meaningful, Dirk. Anyone can collect a bouquet of seaflowers. It is the rare individual who gathers the seeds and plants his friend a garden they can enjoy for years to come.”

So not spices. Dirk scratched his neck as he considered what would benefit the princess long-term. “A pickpocket!” he exclaimed. “No Hero has shown up yet who can teach Millie General Sneakiness & Thievery, and one might not ever, since not many Heroes practice the Immoral Arts. Kind of an inherent trait to be a Hero, you know? I’ll go to the Strip, find me a thief, and bring him to her.”

“So your meaningful gift is to kidnap someone?” Lizbeth asked.

“Yep! She’s gonna love it!” The little dragon sprang into the air, corkscrewing with excitement. It really would be the perfect gift, a new tutor to replace the old one. “Thank you, Whisperwave. Thank you, Lizbeth, Jordyn, Whitney, and Megan. Pleasure meeting you!”

The Mini Red gulped down another indurus spell and flew northwest with the speed of a comet. With any luck, he could find a pickpocket, convince him to teach Millie willingly or knock him unconscious and take him anyway (whatever the situation called for), and be back to the tower before nightfall. Today was looking on the up and up and no mistake.

CHAPTER 59

CAN FINK KEEP A SECRET AND REVENGE OF THE TULA

Millie thrashed like a fish on a line, a goose in a net, a fox with its paw in a trap.

A minute of such exertion proved to be her limit, and then the rational part of her brain shoved back against the outrage and mild panic. The longer she hung there, the sooner her arms would grow numb. She had no way to sever the rope from the hook, so she had to attack this problem piecemeal.

Millie tippy-tapped on her toes until she spun a full circle to assess her surroundings. She was in the darkest corner of the kitchen. It would be coolest over here, so at least she wasn’t at risk of overheating. Yet. The corner could also provide leverage—something she would’ve known nothing about had it not been for Duncan’s lessons on physics.

The pirate aspirant twirled until she faced the seam of the corner. Barefoot, she swung back on her hook. When its pendulous arc brought her close to the walls, she tightened her arms and leaned back.

Her toes seized the rough-hewn stones, but her grip was perilous. At any moment, she could slip or her arms would fail, and then her chances of getting free would plummet exponentially from the wasted energy. Gritting her teeth, Millie angled her body until her knees were as bent as she could manage without her feet slipping. Her toes held the stones surprisingly well, and she made a mental note to thank Jax and Sir Roger for their training.

Millie cast an anxious glance to the exposed beam from which her hook was suspended. Six inches above her. She needed twelve to get to the top of the beam. With an explosive kick, she jumped and reached for the beam. And caught it.

She wasted no time. She swung her legs up and hooked her heels around the beam, then set to wiggling the rope free of the hook with one hand. The dratted hook was barbed, so her rope hadn’t slipped free when she’d caught the beam. It had caught in the rope’s fibers, and she strained to tug, yank, and otherwise manhandle it free.

At last the hook admitted defeat, and Millie dropped to the ground. She was still bound and her wrists hurt, but she was free from one of her problems. Sucking in a deep, satisfied breath, she sauntered over to the sink for a glass of water. Refreshed, Millie took a seat by the window to get a look at this wretched knot. It was in the Constrictor Class, so it would continue to tighten the more she struggled. Already her skin was red and stinging as the coarse fibers bit into her skin like fire ants.

Of course she could just cut herself free with the serrated bread knife, but then what would she learn? Not a darn thing, and certainly not how to inflict this knot upon Bradley when he least expected it.

After a few minutes of inspection and some gentle probing, Millie wiggled herself free. Then she adjusted her hair, brushed the dust from her clothes, got another glass of water, and slunk out into the stairwell to exact her revenge on the napping apprentice.

He’d locked his door, which she deftly picked yet again, but he’d added the extra security of propping the chair under the door handle. That stumped her for a moment or two, but she managed to create a crack large enough for her fingers to slip through and shift the chair just enough that the handle could swing again.

She wasn’t fast enough to catch the chair before it fell, landing against the floor with a crash. Millie froze, as if seizing all motor functions would render her invisible, but the apprentice didn’t rouse. Didn’t even grunt in his sleep.

Stealing into his room, Millie slitted her eyes against the glare of the late afternoon sun. Bradley hadn’t closed the shutters, and buttery light warmed the stones and slid across tan skin. A flush crept up her cheeks, but only for a moment. She was here on the business of revenge, not the business of shamelessly ogling a very fine man with abs like oranges and arms nearly as thick around as her thighs and a span of shoulders that could block out the sun.