Page 20 of The Discount Damsel

Dirk undulated into the kitchen and set the cat down on the floor beside a full saucer. Behind him, the tray with Millie’s dishes from last night bobbed into the kitchen on an air current.

“These are a bit of a tripping hazard,” he told her, almost apologetically. “So, um, don’t leave them on the stairs. We don’t have servants here to retrieve them. But this sink makes up for it.”

The moment he deposited the dirty dishes into the sink, the faucet released a torrent of hot water and the soap and sponge sprang into action. The mug was cleaned first and was deposited into the drainer to drip dry by an unseen hand. The spoon and fork followed next.

“That’s amazing,” she whispered, brown eyes wide as chocolate drops. “That’s animation magic, isn’t it? Isn’t that supposed to be incredibly rare? A lost magic?”

“Good eyes on you,” the baby dragon said, impressed. “Master Excelsior enchanted it centuries ago. How did you know that?”

She winked. “Olabeus is a quiet man until you bring up the subject of magic. Then he’ll run his mouth until the stars come out. Maybe even longer.” She shrugged. “He liked to talk, and I liked to learn.”

The dishes were all in the drainer now, and Dirk’s magic dried them off in a jiffy. He swirled about the kitchen, returning them to their appropriate cupboards and drawers.

There was something uncomfortable about watching someone do someone else’s task, namely hers. She was a guest here in someone else’s home, but that did not absolve her from work as it would have anywhere else. How would she appreciate someone boarding her (future) pirate galleon and running amok? Why, she’d make them walk the plank, that’s what. Dirk was being far more gracious than that, which would’ve made any proud princess uncomfortable with the introspection it would’ve caused, but Mutineer Millie was perceptive, flexible, and had no time for guilt or regrets. She would take this course-correction and sally forth.

Still, she was unable to look him in the eye as she said, “Thank you for the tip about the servants and the sink.” That done, she shook her shoulders and resumed her hunt. “Now, on to more important things: the tea.”

Dirk clapped excitedly. “Oh, yes.”

Millie smiled, growing more at ease. “It’s a dark blend, so we’ll need something savory to nibble on. Or spicy, but I don’t enjoy too much spice this early in the morning. Do you have any salted-egg mooncakes?”

The baby dragon released a wistful sigh, the wind ruffling her hair. “I haven’t had mooncakes since the hatchery in Tianzi.” He joined her search. “Looks like we have some sesame crackers, though.”

“A fine substitute.” She arranged the crackers artfully on a chipped earthenware dish and brewed the tea.

While the cupboards were stocked with tins of loose-leaf tea, somebody had forgotten the importance of a tea diffuser. Or a sieve. Millie made do with the coffee maker and a fresh filter, after rinsing the bitter residue from its workings, of course.

As the coffee maker gurgled and the tea leaves steeped, the princess and the dragon sat at the little table by the window and watched the sunrise over the scalloped edges of the dunes.

“Can’t say I’ve ever heard of a dragon’s tower being in the middle of a desert,” she mused. “Aren’t they usually in the middle of forests or on the tops of mountains?”

“Um, all those towers were taken. And one must respect another dragon’s territory, so, um, here we are. I-is that okay?”

Millie poured the tea first into the teacup with the Tianzi maple leaves, then into the thick earthenware vessel that was more tankard than mug. “Different is good,” she assured the dragon, though she didn’t appreciate what different was currently doing to her hair. The frizz was real and not a servant in residence to help her tame it. “Different makes for the best stories.”

“Oh, good.” The dragon sounded relieved.

“So,” she began after a sip of delicious oolong, “Brad. Do explain that, if you would be so kind, Master Dirk. Aren’t princesses and their dragon kidnappers usually alone in their towers?”

Dirk released a sheepish chuckle and clicked his front claws together a tap or two before he noticed the nervous tic and hooked his thumbs into the strap of his satchel. The pouch was quite flat today, its contents quite at home with all the other treasures in his claw-foot tub. Oh, how those jewels had sparkled! They were nothing like the poor-quality gems he usually extorted. The only thing that remained in the satchel were the crumpled rice paper spells, many (if not all) chipped and in need of replacing by the sorcerer apprentice. His friend. Who Millie wanted him to, as the younger generation was fond of saying, spill the tea about. And thank goodness it was just an idiom, for Dirk would never literally spill any tea if it could be avoided.

He mulled over her request while sipping the oolong (glorious) and nibbling on a sesame seed cracker (a delightful, nutty accompaniment). Hers wasn’t a strange request, since they were all roommates now, but how much to divulge? Dirk supposed the amount and details had everything to do with the intent behind her request. With a flick of golden eyes, he examined her overtop the rim of his teacup.

She was nothing but patience and sincerity and resolve. She would know about the sorcerer apprentice, one way or another, and was offering up the opportunity to do so with the least amount of headache. Otherwise she would need to resort to being a nosey busybody, and nobody enjoyed that quality in a roommate.

After another sip of that lovely oolong and another bite of cracker, Dirk told her everything. Everything, that is, that had transpired in the last four months—Bradley’s track record at the Prestigious College of Sorcerers, Franklin Gladstone’s curse, the new Master’s exam deadline, all those dreadful potions trials. His former life as a fisherman on a Cut and all that entailed was up for him to divulge. When Dirk was done, Duchess had finished her milk and the two of them were working on the last of the tea.

Millie’s hands were wrapped around her mug, thumbs sweeping back and forth across its lip. Halfway through Dirk’s story, her mouth had parted with a little gasp and had never shut. Now, she licked her dry lips and took a swallow of tea. “Oh my.”

Dirk nodded in full agreement.

“I understand completely. He can go about apprenticing while I go about learning to be a pirate, and never should our paths meet unless at meal times.”

“He’d probably like that. Which isn’t to say you aren’t a delight, truly what every dragon wishes for when he kidnaps a princess, but he does cherish his quiet time.”

“And I’d much rather not be bothered as I learn to become a pirate, so what lovely coincidence. But I can’t concentrate with a growling stomach, and since I have no experience with anything cookery . . .” She gave Dirk a hopeful look.

He winced. “Not much of a cook myself—Bradley does all of it.” The little luck dragon peered out the window to gauge the measure of the sun. “Where is that man? He’s always done with his morning exercises by now.” He rose from his chair. “I should go see if he slept⁠—”