Page 73 of The Discount Damsel

With all the sure-footedness of a mountain goat, Bradley bounded down the stairs, calling for Dirk every third step. The apprentice paused to inspect the kitchen, which was as tidy as he’d left it last night, and resumed his mad dash to his bedroom.

“Dirk!” Bradley bellowed.

“What?” the baby dragon hollered, finally thrusting his head out into the stairwell. The last of Bradley’s spells had worn off, and Dirk’s scales were their normal cerulean. “I’m busy cleaning my room before Miss Penelope gets here.”

The apprentice halted on the steps so he could sign, “And what were you going to do about Sir Eustace? Miss Penelope is bound to notice a ministry official parked outside our tower!”

“Egad! We’ve got to hide him!”

“And what about the princess?”

“Isn’t she with you? I thought you two were exercising and doing speech therapy in the mornings. Don’t tell me you lost her!”

“I fell asleep in the workroom.” He shook his head irritably. The Major Inconvenience was probably with Sir Roger in the training room. “You deal with Sir Eustace. I’ll deal with the princess.”

“Right. And find Duchess!”

The baby luck dragon shot out of the nearest porthole window, and Bradley leapt the remaining steps down to the bedroom landing.

He would not waste even a second looking for the cat. She only turned up with any sort of consistency when it was time for supper, which was many hours away. No, he only had enough time to hide the book, wash yesterday’s stink off in the tub, change, and lock the princess and the hedge knight in the training room (again, for his own peace of mind) with the instruction (or threat) to remain silent until Miss Penelope was gone. Since Master Excelsior’s spy only ever inspected the common areas, their suites, and the spring, they could be easily overlooked.

Shouldering open the door, he discovered the princess had not snuck into his suite again, (thank every one of Caelus’s stars a third time), but evidence of her presence was everywhere. In his panic about Miss Penelope, he’d quite forgotten about the results of yesterday’s shopping/looting spree. Clutter had bred like amorous rabbits, or an infectious disease, and all sorts of feminine nonsense clustered in myriad piles around the room.

Cold water, he realized. A splash of cold water on his face was just what he needed to prevent his brain from short-circuiting from the sheer volume of mess polluting his carefully curated space.

He threw open the bathroom door, verified that the tub faucet had indeed shut itself off as it had spelled to do (because double-checking never hurt anyone), and splashed cold water from the sink onto his face. A modicum of calm acquired, Bradley stripped out of his robe and underclothes, tossed the latter into the hamper, and grabbed the bar of soap off the tray. He wouldn’t have time to scrub more than his pits and his groin, but at least he’d get a good dunk in.

Though he didn’t remember doing it, he’d had the forethought last night to dump a measure of restorative moonstone concentrate into the tub. The milky water glittered like liquid opal. It would slough off the worst of the grime he’d collected and give his skin a healthy glow—perfect for fooling Miss Penelope.

Bradley stepped into the warm water and sat down on something definitely alive and definitely naked.

The apprentice shot upright with a shout as the princess emerged from under the water with a scream.

Curse every one of Caelus’s stars.

CHAPTER 33

BATHROOM BATTLEGROUND AND A VOCAL VICTORY

Last night, there hadn’t been words to describe how defeated Millie had felt, how miserably she’d ached, how pricked her pride had been when that insufferable apprentice had locked her in Dirk’s bedroom after dinner. Dirk might claim Bradley Donmarin was a brilliant sorcerer, but she had her doubts. The moron kept forgetting that a young woman couldn’t get her beauty sleep with her knees tucked up by her earlobes, nor with a dragon snoring in the adjacent bathroom. Nor the fact that she could pick locks.

So she’d waited a quarter-hour to make sure he’d truly gone, then done just that. That giant tub in his suite was singing a siren’s song more sweetly than any one of renowned opera singer Madame Palferoi’s arias, and she was going to whole-heartedly obey.

To her delight, she heard the apprentice puttering in the workroom, and he never went there unless he was planning to dedicate a considerable portion of time to his studies. For at least the next sixty minutes, the tub was all hers. And to her delight again, when she entered the bathroom, she discovered the tub was already half-full and there were plenty of salts and restorative oils that understood the plight of her muscles. The milky bathwater rose to the base of her throat, embracing her in the warmest and most soothing of hugs, and only her arms propped up upon the rim had prevented her from slipping in and drowning.

Until sixty seconds ago, when she’d woken in confused alarm to the sounds of the apprentice barging into his bedroom. It’d taken only a second to realize she’d fallen asleep and only a second more to decide what she’d do next.

Millie swooped her arms inside the tub and disappeared under the water. She would hold her breath until the apprentice was done brushing his teeth or flexing in the mirror or whatever his morning ablutions were. This was good training, after all, for she was a sure that at some point in a pirate’s life, being able to hold one’s breath and avoid detection as an enemy passed by would be of critical importance. Submerged Evasion for Beginners, as it were.

And then the fuckwit had sat on her.

Straight on her belly, too, squishing all the air out of her lungs.

Now, with milky water stinging her eyes and her bun sloughing off her head and unraveling her hair into thick brown curtains, she covered her breasts with her arms and screeched, “Can’t a girl enjoy some privacy without the threat of a staring tom barging in on her?”

Only the misuse of the idiom prevented Bradley’s brain from truly short-circuiting this time. “P-peeping.”

“Not the way you’re doing it!” Her gaze flicked below his navel. “And the same social norms that govern having tea with strangers without your genitals on display apply here, too!”