Page 171 of The Discount Damsel

A few piers and jetties jutted out into the sea on either end of the boardwalk, and already there were a smattering of folks upon them casting lines into the water. Boats bobbed at their moorings, and a single sailboat returned from deeper water after a night of fishing.

To the right, the boardwalk ended under a wooden archway, and a sand path wound through the clusters of beach roses and sea holly to the lighthouse/library at the end of a rocky outcropping that speared out into the sea.

Before the town could fully wake, Dirk landed behind the dune grass on the western end of the boardwalk where the land had yet to be developed. As the humans refreshed themselves from their stores—Millie had had the forethought to make some soaked oats with brown sugar and diced figs—Dirk wore off the remnants of his spells until he resembled a Mini Red once more.

Attempting to ingratiate himself once again, he flew to Bradley’s shoulder and perched. The apprentice ignored him, but he didn’t swat him away, which Dirk considered a win. Which was all the better, because the little dragon was exhausted, even after consuming three indurus wafers.

Bradley slung his knapsack strap across his body and left the rest of the luggage for Millie to handle. This was her little adventure, after all. He strolled over the dunes and into town.

Bradley soon realized he had no idea where he was going and masked his error by looking over his shoulder and sighing, “Are you coming?”

Millie bowed under the weight of the picnic basket, the two waterskins, the cutlass, and her own massive suitcase, but the determined smile never left her face. Her boots made quick little tap-tap-taps upon the boardwalk planks as she bustled past him with a startling speed. Without stopping, she fished around in her pocket with her free hand. Instead of the map, she withdrew another folded piece of paper.

Bradley craned a look over her sunhat and found the names of three inns written down in hasty letters, along with their addresses: The Trident Bed & Breakfast, Crystal-Upon-the-Sea Hotel, and Lantern & Hearth. “Where did you find a list of inns in Pierpont?”

“In the workroom,” she answered airily.

The workroom? Had she been snooping about up there at night after he’d gone to bed? That would explain the (rather detailed) hand-drawn map and this list. “And just how are you going to pay for an inn?”

She lifted her wrist and waggled her reticule. Coins, or maybe some of Dirk’s rubies, jingled inside.

Bradley would never admit it aloud, but it seemed the princess had thought of everything. She had a plan, directions, and the means to carry it out.

“And look”—she pointed to a sign with a three-pronged trident—“the bed and breakfast is just right up here.”

The owner of the marine-themed bed & breakfast informed her, and rather snootily, too, that check-in wasn’t until eleven o’clock. When she discovered Millie didn’t even have a reservation, she laughed them right out the front door. “It’s the middle of the summer, girl. Everyone’s booked out for weeks!”

Undeterred, Millie led the way to the hotel. It was the most posh establishment she had seen outside of a royal castle—there was a chandelier of sea glass and crystal dangling in the foyer and gold veining the white marble floor—and the concierge took one look at her sunburned face and casual clothes and threatened to call security.

The third inn had no vacancy, either, but here she wasn’t met with derisive laughter or outright contempt. The matron of Lantern & Hearth kindly asked for Millie’s list of inns and added a fourth she might try. “But our common room’s open to the public for supper if you’d like a bowl of Catch of the Day stew. The mister’s out catching skate for chowder.”

Still smiling, though it had definitely begun to slip, Millie followed the directions to a three-story monstrosity of salt-eaten clapboard that was only kept erect by the glue provided by the copious gull droppings. There was a definite lean to it, and the shingles peeled away from the roof like sunburned skin gone to flake. Millie gulped and double-checked the address, confirmed it again by the placard that hung over the door that had long ago warped out of its frame. A sad-looking pelican perched on a piling, looking rather haggard with ruffled feathers and knobby knees.

Despite it being the height of the summer season, The Dreary Pelican indeed had a single room for her to rent. “Only one?” she asked. She’d seen the names in the innkeeper’s ledger—there were plenty of rooms to spare.

“Only one at this rate.” Mr. Jameson, the owner of this travesty of an establishment, was a tall stork of a man with lank gray hair squished against his head by a tight-fitting top hat. He flicked gray eyes to the Mini Red perched on Bradley’s shoulder. “Pets are extra.”

Dirk bristled on Bradley’s shoulder. “I beg your p⁠—”

The apprentice clamped a hand over the Mini Red’s mouth.

“Even more for talking pets,” Mr. Jameson said. “They tend to jabber at all hours and keep the other patrons awake.”

“I do not!”

“Two more coppers. A night.”

Millie handed him the extra coins from her reticule, hefted her luggage, and gave him her most winning smile.

Mr. Jameson regarded her luggage with yet another one of his signature apathetic looks. “It’s a full silver if you want early check-in.”

She checked her reticule and balked. She hadn’t planned on a prolonged stay in Pierpont, but she didn’t want to waste coin on convenience when necessity might demand it later. “We’ll wait until eleven.”

“Check-in’s at one.”

Of course it was. She forced a tight-lipped smile. “See you at one, then.”

Bradley stepped aside with his simple knapsack to allow Millie room to lumber out the front door. She tripped over the wonky threshold, but she maintained control over the suitcase, waterskins, and picnic basket. Outside, she sucked in a deep breath of fresh, salty air.