Page 151 of The Discount Damsel

Duncan had the good manners to collapse onto the floor only when he was out of the way of the door, lying on his back and his chest pumping like a bellows as he fought to catch his breath. Sir Roger took the spot on the rug next to him, elbows propped up on his drawn-up knees. Pocket happily sat in the chair by the window, and Millie, Bradley, and Dirk piled onto the bed. When they were all sorted, the retellings began between sips of brandy, which was passed around. And all the while, whether he knew it or not, Bradley’s thumb rubbed slow and comforting circles across the back of Millie’s hand.

There were gasps aplenty when Dirk recounted the assassination plot he’d overheard at The Hollow, then Bradley’s admission he’d been drugged by the ferret and hog-tied by the princess, and Millie filled in the rest—it had been another normal day of rope climbing, another day of seeking to break a new height record. Jax had given no indication of his ulterior motives to any of them, not even his cellmates.

Those were revealed to them by Fink. No longer bound by the power of the opal, the little ferret could chitter to his heart’s content, which he did. Dirk translated it all—Jaxson Sloop was no deckhand from Pierpont, but an acrobat in the Shardspire circus who had the charisma and nine lives of a cat. (Duchess hadn’t appreciated the analogy.) Jax was also an avid gambler, but he wasn’t as lucky winning money as he was women. A mob of cuckolded husbands and debt collectors had been after him, and then he’d been offered a way out by a man in a hooded cloak.

“A cockroach like him would’ve had an escape plan,” Sir Roger pressed. “How did he think he could hurt Miss Millie and get away with it?”

By tossing the training rope out the window, scaling down the tower, and escaping on the dune skiff that he’d hidden in the desert.

When Fink’s part of the tale was done, Duchess released the ferret. He slunk sideways up to Bradley, showing as much of his vulnerable underbelly as possible.

“Be gentle,” Dirk advised the apprentice. “That opal compelled him to do Jax’s bidding.”

Bradley glared at the little creature. It had come into his home, befriended him, drugged him, and saved him. Saved Millie. And been tortured for it until Duchess had ripped that collar off his neck.

Fink squeaked in fear when Bradley plucked him off the comforter. He held the slinky creature up to eye-level. “I don’t do third chances, understand me?”

The ferret nodded vigorously.

“Tell her you’re sorry first.”

Fink whipped towards Millie, lowering his head and ears in supplication. The princess leaned forward from where she was propped against the pillows and kissed the top of his black head. “I forgive you, Fink. And thank you.”

He perked up immediately, black eyes brightening. The ferret bundled back up into an anxious ball when Bradley swiveled him back around to face him.

“I suppose you can stay,” he said gruffly.

The ferret gave his thumb a gentle nibble, just like in the old days, then attempted to curl up against Duchess’s fluffy tail for a nap. He’d had an exhausting day, after all. But the cat was slower to forgive than the humans and curled her tail tight around her paws.

Pocket leaned forward in her chair and scooped up the ferret. “C’mere. I know a thing or two about second chances. And I like cuddling.”

Fink chittered happily and curled up in the bed created by Pocket’s palms, using her thumb as a pillow.

“I suppose we should all be doing some of that,” Sir Roger said, nudging Duncan. “C’mon, son. Back to the dungeon.”

“I hate stairs,” the gnome groaned.

“You, too, Miss Pocket.”

The pickpocket cut a look at the Mini Red. “You said nothing about me sleeping in a dungeon, Shorty.”

“It’s a nice dungeon,” he assured her.

“It really is,” Sir Roger agreed.

“And you clearly have Stockholm syndrome, Graybeard.”

“My beard is the finest platinum, as is my hair. Now git.”

Pocket stomped out of the room, hissing at Dirk, “We will discuss this tomorrow.”

The little dragon gulped.

“I like her,” Millie said.

Bradley’s lips quirked in a flash of a smile, but he grew quickly serious. “I’ll, uh, walk you back to your room.”

“Oh. Right.”