Page 188 of The Discount Damsel

“Hmm?” That faraway look had returned to his eyes, and his thumb had resumed its idle stroking. It felt nice.

Her voice was soft against his chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Dirk sooner.”

The apprentice tensed.

“You had every right to know. I was being . . . well, I was being petty. There. And in my desire to wound you, I end up hurting him. I’m so sorry, to both of you.”

Her apology hung in the air like a ripe peach on a low branch, waiting to be plucked. Bradley swallowed. “And I’m sorry I didn’t foster a relationship with you where you felt safe to tell me. I’ve been the selfish one, Millie.”

A rush of sensation spread through her at the sound of her name from that deep voice.

“And”—he hesitated—“it’s easy to forgive you, because you did have a plan to help him. You truly weren’t ignoring his problem. All those days you stayed up late, you were researching in the workroom, weren’t you?”

“I was.”

His other arm came around her then, squeezing her gently. “Thank you.”

She resisted the urge to hug him back. Not until she was fully unburdened. “And I’m sorry for running off.” She continued quickly, on the verge of rambling, “That was wildly immature of me, but I was overwhelmed. And distraught. I needed some space to figure it out. I mean, I’m perfectly fine on the dune skiff riding the wind. But the moment I step foot on a boat? Dirk was right. How can I expect to be a pirate if I can’t get over my seasickness?”

Millie flung up a hand in frustration, dispelling some of the heat trapped beneath the comforter. She quickly readjusted the bed linens and flattened her hand once again over Bradley’s chest. His heart drummed under her palm.

The apprentice’s voice was quiet, controlled. “Do you still want to be a pirate after what you saw last night?”

The sound of cannons and the snapping of masts under the consuming power of purple magefire echoed in her ears. The screams of men.

“I’ve told you, Mr. Donmarin. I will be a pirate the likes you’ve never seen.”

“I need you to explain that to me.” There was an edge to his voice, a warning in his fingers pressing into her arm. “Please.”

She swiveled a look up at him; he’d never asked that before. “Amberlian law states that a princess may choose her own husband from a pool of suitors, but those suitors are vetted and gathered by her parents. Amberlian law also states that the king and queen, regardless of consort status, have equal say in the governance of the kingdom.”

“Oh.” Bradley could see where this was going.

“Every suitor I’ve met is only interested in what Amberly can do for his country and fortune, not what he can do to help me and mine. We are small, but rich in resources, and those men would be cowbird chicks in the Amberly nest—consuming every morsel at the expense of its parent kingdom and that kingdom’s own children, our citizens. It’s not just the Amberlian servants who’ve rated the highest on Continent Careers’ job satisfaction and mental health polls for the last fifty years, it’s our people, too.”

“At the risk of sounding argumentative, that seems like a dangerous generalization. How do you know all the men you’ve met only wish to use Amberly as their own piggy bank?”

“Because I spied on them, of course.”

Bradley shook his head. “But of course.”

“My ninth etiquette tutor, Miss Violeta, stressed upon me the importance of arriving fashionable late to any event in order to make an entrance. While I thought that was actually inexcusably rude⁠—”

“And it is.”

Her lips quirked a quick smile. “—I was forced to comply. Well, what to do while I was waiting to arrive? I’d already studied and embroidered enough for the day, and it’s not like I had any friends besides Duchess to entertain me. So why not learn what people would say behind my back? It was very enlightening.”

“You’re frighteningly pragmatic, you know that?” His tone was accusatory, but his blue eyes twinkled.

Her smile was wider this time, and a smidge smug. “So yes, Mr. Donmarin, I can confidently say that every one of my suitors—with the exception of two—was a leech in man’s clothing.”

“Call me Bradley, Millie. And who were the two?”

It was easy to keep the blush off her face when she thought about the gaggle of idiots who’d attempted to woo her over the years. “Oh, one was a simpleton who I’d have to manage—as if I wouldn’t have enough to worry about already—and the other was clearly in love with someone else.”

“So with such undesirable prospects, obviously you had to turn to piracy.”

“Precisely. Only as a pirate, unfettered by Amberlian law, could I do what my country needed most—be its advocate. Repel those who would weaken it.”