Page 237 of The Discount Damsel

Paying her no mind whatsoever, her mother turned to her father, and the two rulers clutched hands as if they had just heard the most wonderful news. “The future of Amberly doesn’t rest on Rosamund!” her mother squealed.

“Someone crack the champagne,” the king roared.

“Lies,” Chandler shouted. “You have no proof⁠—”

“Chan-Chan wouldn’t mind paying my full bride price, would you, Chan-Chan?” Rosamund gazed up at the furious prince with nothing but daydreams and rainbows in her eyes. “He’s got plenty of jewels to spare—he told Daddy only yesterday that one of his mines just produced twelve crates of the finest rubies!”

The princess pirate crossed her arms over her chest and popped her hip out to the side. “Are those the same rubies that Dirk the Dangerous stole out from under your nose, or new ones?”

“What’s this now?” the king demanded of the prince. “You’re broke? Unhand my daughter immediately!”

“Daddy, no, this has to be some kind of mistake,” Rosamund protested. “Sissy, please, you’re putting a raincloud on the happiest day of my life.”

“You’re not made of sugar, Rosamund. You won’t melt.” Millie leveled her hairpin at the prince. “Get away from my sister.”

Rosamund tsked. “Don’t be jealous.” She reached up to stroke the blond fuzz on her fiancé’s jaw. “Don’t worry, Chan-Chan, she just need some time to adj⁠—”

Prince Chandler snatched Rosamund’s hand, wrenched it hard behind her back, and yanked her against his chest. Jewels from an ostentatious amount of rings and bracelets flashed as his other hand swept up and clamped around her throat.

“Chan-Chan,” she chastised, scandalized. “My governess said you would have manly urges after the wedding, but please, wait until we’re alone.” Rosamund tried to smile at Millie, but her face had gone rather red. “See? He”—she fought for breath—“loves me.”

“I don’t know how you got out of that tower,” Chandler snarled, “but you can’t stop this. That army I sent to Ashburnum was just a fraction of the forces at my disposal. The rest of them are outside right now.

“You should’ve known you couldn’t insult me and just walk away. I will have my dragon heart and leave your kingdom in ruins.” He laughed, a sound as cold as the winter wind. “I thought you were the smart sister, Mildred. It was stupid of you to come alone.”

Mutineer Millie grinned. “Alone? Who says I’m alone? This is a wedding, Chandler, of course I brought a plus-one.”

The stained-glass dome burst apart like a firework as an airborne pirate galleon swooped into the throne room.

CHAPTER 96

THE ONE IN (ALMOST) TEN, A DRAGON VISITATION, AND THE FATE OF THE AMBERLIAN THRONE

Gobsmacked, the courtiers became as sheep before a wolf—bleating and panicking and smacking into each other so forcefully, the infirmary would be overflowing with the concussed for days after the ruined wedding.

The pirate ship dropped anchor, leaving a crater in the marble floor, and the crew of the Tula surged over the sides to the rousing beat of Madame Palferoi’s “The Bouncing Breasts of the Busty Barmaid” as performed by a battle-crazed frog in a gilded birdcage.

A slinky blue dragon whizzed through the air, the wake of his flight coupled with a lucky shimmer of his scales, and swept the glass shards away before they could fall on anyone. Red, yellow, and blue, the stained glass chased after him like a flock of starlings. Meanwhile, Sir Roger slid down the anchor chain and rushed to protect the Amberlian king and queen with Oathkeeper. Festus the griffin winged low to drop off his passengers: Bradley to join Olabeus in a duel against the Leighton court sorcerer, Duchess to reassure a frightened Rosamund, and Fink to urinate upon anyone who tried to ruin Pocket’s gown. Sir Eustace remained aboard the Tula, chronicling history with rapid strokes of his quill.

Amidst the utter collapse of proper decorum, Chandler tried to use the distraction to kidnap Rosamund.

He was immediately thwarted by a hairpin flung into his eye.

Or, more specifically, the decorative top of said hairpin clocked him just under the ridge of his brow bone where the skin was soft and sensitive.

One in Nine And A Half, Millie congratulated herself as she rushed forward. Still counts!

Chandler released the younger princess with a howl, clutching his bruised ego as much as his eye, so he was almost unprepared for Millie’s follow-up attack. He dropped his hand and swept back his dress cloak for the dagger at the small of his back.

Having thrown her only weapon, Millie did the only thing an unarmed combatant could do. She grabbed that fluttering cloak and slung the prince just like the tiny pink octopus had the scallop in the Pierpont tide pool. As Chandler staggered away, Millie retrieved her shiv hairpin. Then it was his blade against hers.

Chandler didn’t last long. Wearing his wealth, he was weighed down, slow, and Millie in her perfectly tailored dress and flat-heeled shoes could move. She flitted about him like a luck dragon on the wind, poking him in all the softest places with her hairpin until he lost his temper. A wild slice of his dagger did tear her dress, but it twisted him wildly off balance. Millie yanked his cloak over his head, dodged another desperate slash of the dagger, and kicked her leg across the backs of his knees. The prince fell like a pumpkin off the end of a wagon, with a hearty thud.

The pirate princess stomped him in the groin, just to be safe, then kicked the dagger away from his suddenly weak grip. As the prince wheezed, she hoisted Duchess one-handed into Rosamund’s arms. Her younger sister buried her face into the cat’s luscious white fur, inhaled deeply, and bawled.

Chandler finally wrestled the cloak free of his face, rising with a snarl. Millie cracked him in the nose and sent him back to the floor bawling once more. The man was clearly bred for cushions, not conflict. Ordering someone to hire Dirk to kidnap her had probably been the only time his spine had been made of something more rigid than wax. What a shame. She’d really been looking forward to testing her mettle against a worthy opponent.

With a sigh, Millie plucked her sister’s veil from her head, twisted it into a rope, and got to hog-tying the prince’s wrists to his ankles with constrictor knots.