Page 226 of The Discount Damsel

“We both know that DDP was deemed invalid by the Ministry of Folklore itself,” Master Excelsior said.

“Not to me.”

“No other luck dragon has a princess.”

“Sucks to be them.”

“Dirk,” Millie began softly.

“Stay out of this, Millie.” His lips peeled back from his fangs, and he growled softly at Master Excelsior.

“Your littermates will make fun of you,” the sorcerer said gravely.

His tail tightened around her. “I don’t care.”

“What happens at six twenty-two, when she no longer is your responsibility? She can’t stay at the College—she’s not a sorcerer nor an employee.”

“I’ll figure it out, meat sack! I’m a dragon, I do what I want.”

Master Excelsior’s gaze narrowed sharply.

“Let me take the Grand Master exam,” Bradley blurted. “A grand master gets to choose his appointment, doesn’t he? If I pass, I’m choosing her.”

“Bradley,” she whispered, panicked. “No.” There were risks, and there was downright recklessness. She would not have him jeopardize everything for her.

Bradley never tore his gaze away from his master’s face.

“Don’t you need a staff to take that exam?” Dirk protested.

“No, I do not. Do I, Master?”

A sorcerer apprentice earned their crystal staff by proving their command over High Aetherial. It was taught that the crystal acted as a substitute for the magical language—another conduit through which to command the magic inside him—and if a master sorcerer was strong enough in their own gift, they could command their magic through gesture. But Bradley knew better now. The crystal was only an amplifier to the power within him, and with his gift, he needed no external assistance.

Master Excelsior clapped. “There’s my noodle-brained apprentice. I was hoping you’d figure it out in time. And you’re quite right, Dirk. Who is a man to tell a dragon what he can and cannot do, even a wee luck dragon without his barbels? Bravo.”

Bradley felt the tension drain out of his shoulders like water from a wrung sponge. “I’m getting sick of these tests, Master.”

“Too bad for you. Life’s full of ’em. Now we really must be off. Miss Millie? You, too, dear.”

CHAPTER 91

THE NAME DONMARIN, ROGUES, AND A WORRISOME INVITATION

The hag stone brought them to the exam chamber, an amphitheater-style room of polished mahogany with a high-arched dome and walls ringed with windows to let in the sun at any hour. It was at the top of a tower situated on the opposite side of the lake, away from the College dormitories and lecture halls, just in case an errant spell shot the dome off or exploded the windows. There were wards that prevented such things from happening, but one never knew.

Especially with wild magic.

The College Board quickly convened, and those who could not attend in person sent copper-colored astral projections of themselves. After Master Excelsior explained Millie’s presence and the change of exam, Bradley Donmarin was ordered to come to the center of the room to be tested with clear instructions that he was not to speak even a syllable of High Aetherial.

Master Excelsior guided Millie away to a bench furthest away from the exam floor, got her a cushion, and she sat with one hand clutching his twiggy fingers and the other fisted in Dirk’s feathery mane as the exam commenced.

For thirty minutes, the sorcerers did their best to kill the apprentice.

They slung every spell in the three volumes of The Ultimate Spell Directory at him, and Bradley often had to defend against three attacks simultaneously. Tremors shook the floorboards at his feet. Icicles rained down from the dome. Vines sought to ensnare his ankles, and someone tried to cut him in half with a sickle made of air. One severe-looking woman—Professor Udora—clearly disapproved of Bradley’s long hair and was fixated on giving him a haircut via lightning or fireball.

“She apparently has never known the joy of pulling on a man’s hair in bed,” Millie muttered.

Master Excelsior stifled a snort. “I would very much like you to meet a dear friend of mine sometime. A Miss Penelope Shrewsbury. I think the two of you share a lot in common.”