Page 150 of The Discount Damsel

He turned her into the alcove, pressing her back against the archway, against something as solid as he was. Rock at her back, rock beneath her feet, Bradley hard against her front. She was safe.

Millie sagged as her remaining strength vanished with the onset of her tears. She was not a weepy girl by nature, but all this grief, anger, relief, wonder, gratitude, they were too much to keep inside. But it was alright; Bradley was strong enough for the both of them.

He kept her upright, wedging his thigh between hers so she’d have somewhere to sit instead of slumping to the floor. The apprentice cupped her face, smoothing the hair away from her wet cheeks. “Millie,” he murmured. “Oh, Millie. Tell me you’re alright. Please.”

Her gaze lifted at the sound of her name. He said it soft like a caress, a soothing touch. Without meaning to, Millie reached up and touched his lips. She never knew her name could sound so wonderful. She never knew a man’s eyes could burn with such intensity, or a man’s heart thunder beneath her palm.

Bradley pressed closer, sliding a hand into her hair at the base of her neck. His breath was so warm on her cheek, so real, and she leaned forward like a moth drawn to flame.

There was a crash above them, a muffled cry, then a whoosh of air as a blue luck dragon arrowed into the tower stairwell.

Dirk screamed her name, twisting this way and that. Fat tears leaked from his eyes, but he dashed them away. With an anguished cry, he arched back in preparation to dive deeper into the tower.

“Dirk!” she called.

Bradley kept firm hold of her hand as the two of them shifted into the light. Millie waved up at the luck dragon with her free hand, a smile breaking through the last of her tears.

The baby dragon barreled into her and wrapped his sinuous length around her like a ribbon around a Maypole. He buried his head against her neck for only a second before he lifted it so he could yank Bradley into their embrace as well. And the three of them clung together, breathless and overwhelmed. But safe.

“Hey, Big Red?” a feminine voice called from the trapdoor. “Your, um, princess alive? And why do you have a frog in a birdcage up here? Keeps blathering on about being a prince?”

“Who’s that?” Millie asked.

Dirk uncoiled from her, sniffled once to compose himself, then informed proudly, “That’s Pocket, your pickpocket tutor. Picked her up today. We’re okay, Pocket,” he shouted up to her.

“You did? Aww, that’s so sweet of you!” She gave the little dragon a kiss on the cheek. It was important to celebrate the victories, however small, after such travesty.

An azure ripple passed over his scales, and Dirk blushed. “It was the least I could do after— Bradley, why are your eyes glowing?”

The apprentice lifted a hand to his eyes, confirming the dragon’s observation when blue light illuminated his palm. What the⁠—?

“Oh,” the princess exclaimed softly. “And, Master Dirk, you look like you.”

Skin his scales, he must’ve burned through every spell on his mad dash back to the tower. The luck dragon quickly scarfed down the spells that changed him back into a winged Mini Red. “Now where is that treacherous snake Duncan?”

“It wasn’t him.” Bradley pointed towards the ceiling where the deckhand was still plastered against the wood, now unconscious.

As if he was just realizing now that Millie was safe, and perhaps he was, the power in his eyes vanished. Something that felt like a taut sail in his chest collapsed, as if it had lost the wind.

Everyone gasped as the invisible force keeping the unconscious Jaxson Sloop against the ceiling disappeared. But the betrayer only dropped three feet before Dirk’s wind guided him (very roughly) against the closest step. That is to say, the step was where the deckhand eventually ended up after colliding into the wall. Twice.

“Now what happened?” the dragon asked crossly.

“You came barreling in here like you knew something was amiss,” Bradley countered. “How did you know?”

“Miss Millie,” Sir Roger gasped from behind them. He and Duncan gripped the guide rope and panted, having raced all the way up the tower after hearing her first cries of distress. “Are you alright?”

“And why is he tiny?” Duncan wheezed, pointing at the Mini Red.

Dirk and Bradley shared a look. With a sigh, Bradley gestured to his bedroom. “Everybody in. We’re only talking about this once. You, too, Pocket,” he called up to the workroom.

“So thrilled to be included.” She hurried down the steps, stocking hat bouncing in time to the raffia purses thumping against her thighs.

“Perhaps I should make some tea?” Millie offered. She knew a warm cup of something familiar would go a long way soothing her own rattled nerves. If she could stop shaking to brew it.

“Think you might need something a little more fortifying than tea, miss.” Sir Roger produced a hip flask of blackberry brandy. “Not much left from when I started out on this venture, but what’s there is yours.”

Inside Bradley’s bedroom, they found Duchess loafing in the very center of the bed with the ferret trapped beneath her. He gave Bradley a meek look out from under the cat’s fluff.