Chapter 61 #3
Those were revealed to them by Fink. No longer bound by the power of the opal, the little ferret could chitter to his heart’s content, which he did.
Dirk translated it all—Jaxson Sloop was no deckhand from Pierpont, but an acrobat in the Shardspire circus who had the charisma and nine lives of a cat.
(Duchess hadn’t appreciated the analogy.) Jax was also an avid gambler, but he wasn’t as lucky winning money as he was women.
A mob of cuckolded husbands and debt collectors had been after him, and then he’d been offered a way out by a man in a hooded cloak.
“A cockroach like him would’ve had an escape plan,” Sir Roger pressed. “How did he think he could hurt Miss Millie and get away with it?”
By tossing the training rope out the window, scaling down the tower, and escaping on the dune skiff that he’d hidden in the desert.
When Fink’s part of the tale was done, Duchess released the ferret. He slunk sideways up to Bradley, showing as much of his vulnerable underbelly as possible.
“Be gentle,” Dirk advised the apprentice. “That opal compelled him to do Jax’s bidding.”
Bradley glared at the little creature. It had come into his home, befriended him, drugged him, and saved him. Saved Millie. And been tortured for it until Duchess had ripped that collar off his neck.
Fink squeaked in fear when Bradley plucked him off the comforter. He held the slinky creature up to eye-level. “I don’t do third chances, understand me?”
The ferret nodded vigorously.
“Tell her you’re sorry first.”
Fink whipped towards Millie, lowering his head and ears in supplication. The princess leaned forward from where she was propped against the pillows and kissed the top of his black head. “I forgive you, Fink. And thank you.”
He perked up immediately, black eyes brightening. The ferret bundled back up into an anxious ball when Bradley swiveled him back around to face him.
“I suppose you can stay,” he said gruffly.
The ferret gave his thumb a gentle nibble, just like in the old days, then attempted to curl up against Duchess’s fluffy tail for a nap. He’d had an exhausting day, after all. But the cat was slower to forgive than the humans and curled her tail tight around her paws.
Pocket leaned forward in her chair and scooped up the ferret. “C’mere. I know a thing or two about second chances. And I like cuddling.”
Fink chittered happily and curled up in the bed created by Pocket’s palms, using her thumb as a pillow.
“I suppose we should all be doing some of that,” Sir Roger said, nudging Duncan. “C’mon, son. Back to the dungeon.”
“I hate stairs,” the gnome groaned.
“You, too, Miss Pocket.”
The pickpocket cut a look at the Mini Red. “You said nothing about me sleeping in a dungeon, Shorty.”
“It’s a nice dungeon,” he assured her.
“It really is,” Sir Roger agreed.
“And you clearly have Stockholm syndrome, Graybeard.”
“My beard is the finest platinum, as is my hair. Now git.”
Pocket stomped out of the room, hissing at Dirk, “We will discuss this tomorrow.”
The little dragon gulped.
“I like her,” Millie said.
Bradley’s lips quirked in a flash of a smile, but he grew quickly serious. “I’ll, uh, walk you back to your room.”
“Oh. Right.”
“And I’m gonna go take care of Jax before he wakes up.” Dirk was none too gentle with his magic, choosing to stuff the traitor out a very small window instead of using the wider balcony point of egress.
Duchess led the way down the stairs, trotting around the hermit crabs. The little crustaceans were in rare form tonight, nearly all their antennae and shells glowing. The cat paid them no mind and pawed open Millie’s door a crack to let herself in, leaving the two humans alone in the alcove.
Bradley wet his lips and looked down at their joined hands. Not once since he’d lifted her out of the abyss with his magic had he let go of her. Not while they’d sat shoulder to shoulder upon his bed, not during their walk to her room. Their fingers were intertwined and fused for all he knew.
Millie shifted towards the door, pulling him forward in subtle invitation.
“Sleep well, Tula.” He unlaced their fingers and pushed open the door, hand tight on the handle lest he reach for her.
“Y-you, too.” Ducking her head, she went inside briskly, shutting the door behind her.
His forehead thunked lightly against the hard oak. Still gripping the handle, he leaned against the door and groaned.
Everything in him wanted to be on the other side of this door right now. He wanted that woman back in his arms, back where he knew she was safe. Where she belonged. Sweet mother of pearl, he’d never felt so complete before, not even when he’d had full use of his magic.
But to follow her inside would’ve been a mistake.
They were both too vulnerable by the night’s recent events, and he wouldn’t take advantage of that, no matter how much his body was screaming at him.
He rarely thought ill of his parents, but tonight, he’d wished they’d raised a scallywag instead of a gentleman for a son.
The Kraken take me. He banged his forehead against the door a third and final time. Drag me down and stuff me in the Locker.
On the other side of the door, he heard the rasp of fabric, the squeak of hinges, and a low sigh—the princess pushing herself away from where she leaned her back against the door. She’d been so close, less than three inches away. Probably just as frustrated and miserable as he was.
He needed a very cold shower. And to think about a great many things.
With a sigh, the apprentice forced himself away from the princess’s room.