Page 52 of The Discount Damsel

The apprentice paused to poke the dragon in the chest. “I could say the same about you, Dirk,” he signed. “You brought that princess here without permission, without thinking anything through, and now she has a knight here. And more will come! Master Excelsior left me in charge, and I’m protecting his interests the best way I know how. Don’t like it? You can commiserate with them instead of helping me get rid of this curse, you know, like you promised?”

“Maybe I will.”

“Fine,” Bradley spat.

“Fine!”

The apprentice snorted and lunged up the stairs. His anger grew when Dirk didn’t follow. Couldn’t the luck dragon see he’d put Bradley in an impossible position? Didn’t he care that with each Hero that showed up to challenge him for the princess, Bradley lost time working on his curse? Never mind the worry Bradley would experience watching his naïve young friend battle seasoned warriors for a princess he’d just met. All because of his stupid obsession with the Great Reds. It was lunacy!

Unless Dirk didn’t care. Didn’t believe Bradley could do it in time. Hells of the deep, they’d already spent three months at the tower with nothing to show for it.

Dirk’s given up on me. Bradley’s hands tightened into fists, and he shut his eyes against the sting that pricked them. A tower with a princess, a knight, and a dragon, and yet he was utterly alone.

CHAPTER 23

THE THREAT OF AN AMOROUS BARBARIAN AND PANCAKES TO THE RESCUE

The apprentice’s fingers drummed a slow and methodical five-beat dirge of boredom against the pages of The Ultimate Spell Directory – Volume 2. He’d read all three volumes three times over the course of his time at the College, been tested ad nauseam about their contents, too.

His first read-through had been marked by the unquenchable delight of discovery. His second, purpose. His third, obligation and drudgery. A brilliant mind repelled repetition. It needed stimulus. It didn’t need to find him here slouched in his seat with his chin cupped in his palm and his eyes glazed over as they scanned words on a page he already knew. But the Master’s exam would be unlike any test he’d had before. This was the exam where the professors removed their kid gloves and did all within their power to imperil him. Only dexterity of mind and a thorough knowledge of myriad spells would see him through to the end.

And the ability to speak them, he grumbled to himself.

One might question what was the point to memorizing spells when one couldn’t even incant them, but Bradley was a believer in being prepared. He would remove the curse. He would be ready for the exam immediately after. He would ride out these feelings of boredom and frustration and inadequacy and⁠—

His gaze slid across the desk to the cherrywood box and the dark magic instruction manual inside.

Bradley’s pulse danced in his veins; his breath stilled in his lungs. Summoning. Conjuring. Could either one assist him? He couldn’t summon a sorcerer to remove his curse—the sorcerer would remember the compulsion after his task was complete and report him to the College Board. They’d strip him of his magic for sure. And if Master Excelsior, who was a grand master himself, though he shunned his full title whenever he got the chance, couldn’t remove his curse, then who?

The only thing greater than a grand master was an archmaster, and the world hadn’t seen that caliber of magic wielder in an age. Even if the archmasters did exist, they were probably too busy to pay him any mind.

Noodle brain, he thought, recalling the term his mentor has always used. Your mind needs to be as limber as a wet noodle, Bradley.

He rolled his shoulders and shook out his hands.

Could he possibly summon an ingredient to make one of his alchemical remedies not a failure? That would require a lot more research, but Bradley still had many weeks ahead of him, so . . .

His fingers resumed the five-beat drumming dirge as he slumped back into his seat. Maybe he should take a break from reading spells he already had memorized. Maybe he should return to the research he’d abandoned yester-evening. If he couldn’t remove his curse, then knowing all the spells in all the world wouldn’t do him any good. And he couldn’t very well conjure anything if he didn’t know what exactly to conjure.

It just sucked that Dirk wasn’t here to lend his luck to the process, or at least commiserate with him. Or talk him out of the temptation of using forbidden magic.

To his knowledge, the baby dragon hadn’t left the dungeon where the Major Inconvenience and the newest addition to the tower, Major Inconvenience’s Enabler, were devising their How to Be A Pirate training program. Aka Miss Shiny Object and Shiny Object’s Assistant. Dragons, regardless of species, were like raccoons that way—the sparkly and unique attracted them.

Bradley sighed as he wallowed, the fingers of one hand still drumming. The strange rhythm soothed him, and words rose from memory to accompany them: Dirk the Dangerous dozes dreamily deep in⁠—

The tower shook.

Bradley lurched upright and flattened his arms against the stacks of books that threatened to collapse. He clamped his jaw to keep his teeth from rattling, but the vibrations were so strong, they wobbled his spectacles clean off the edge of his nose. The bowl created between his thighs by his robe caught them, but another strike to the tower pitched him and his spectacles clean off his chair. He flung his arms up over his head to protect against the bludgeoning cascade of all those heavy books and looked up in a panic as many, many breakable sorcerous bit and bobs rattled. They didn’t break—yet—since he’d shoved them all up in each other’s business against the workroom walls, but it was only a matter of time.

The workroom had environmental stabilization wards in place, but nothing against vibrations that shook the very foundation of the tower.

The apprentice managed to snatch his spectacles and secure them to his face before a third quake released another shower of books, this time from both the desk and the shelves. Hiking his robe up past his knees, he kept low and scuttled over to the nearest balcony to see what in tarnation was assaulting the tower.

He'd only gotten halfway when the trapdoor burst open, the princess and the hedge knight tumbling into the workroom. Dirk followed immediately after and slapped the door shut with a swish of his tail.

“No offense, miss,” Sir Roger said as he helped Millie to her feet, staggering a bit himself, “but you’re not touching a sword until you can climb those steps without keeling over.”

“Fair,” the princess panted, her face pinker than her taffeta dress had ever been. She hinged forward, hands layering over a stitch in her side.