Chapter 65 #2
“But didn’t you vow to kill Master Dirk and Bradley when you were made a prince again?” Sitting on the edge of the spring, Millie dipped one foot into the spring and shivered with visible pleasure.
Bradley’s throat dried up like a drought-choked desert.
“Yes, well, I have a duty to my country and my people,” the frog insisted. “They are in need of a queen, and I’m in need of an heir, and I’ll not have any competition thwarting either endeavor.”
“And you wonder why no one’s kissed you yet.”
“Rejection,” Dirk cackled, flicking his tail and ejecting the frog prince out of the water.
Pocket caught the wailing frog and stuffed him back in the birdcage. Fink slapped it shut and nosed the latch into place.
“Chauvinists get the cage, Henri,” Pocket said. “And a time-out.”
“Don’t take me back to the workroom! It’ll be covered in sand by now—”
“No, it won’t,” Bradley countered.
“—and you know what sand does to my pores!”
Pocket’s steps were determined if labored—she wasn’t used to the constant up-down of the tower steps yet. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the consequences of your actions coming home to roost. Bah-cock!” The pickpocket sniggered as the frog prince sulked at the bottom of his cage.
Sir Roger joined the others in their dispersal, making for his cot and one of his treasured naps, leaving Dirk, Millie, and Bradley to enjoy the effervescent spring by themselves.
The spawning shrimps turned the water nearly white with tiny bubbles, which tickled them pleasantly.
When they finally breached the surface, the flying shrimp spread their gossamer wings and spiraled two-by-two into the tower.
Dirk blew on them gently to guide their flight to the tower stones.
The moment they touched the stones, there was a flash of light.
When it dimmed, a new crystal glowed in the tower.
“This is so magical,” Millie whispered, lifting a handful of bubbles to the surface. “But don’t we have to worry about the grouper?”
“Not today,” Dirk said gleefully. Whether he knew it or not, the magic infused in the water was eating away at his illusion.
He was far less Mini Red and more carmine luck dragon now.
“Their magic and all these bubbles hide me from the fish. I can stay here as long as I want. It’s almost like I’m flying in the clouds again. ”
The luck dragon squealed and dove out of sight.
“How’s your shoulder?”
Millie stifled a yelp when she realized Bradley was right there.
The howling of the sandstorm outside and all the bubbling water had muffled the sounds of his approach.
His black hair framed his sharp jaw in long inky waves, and the rippling water reflected in the blue of his eyes.
The strong column of his neck and the muscled breadth of his shoulders above the waterline did something erratic to her pulse.
If she hadn’t known any better, she would’ve thought him a siren come to seduce her with a song.
“M-my shoulder?”
“Where you fell.”
“Oh.” She massaged the joint. “It’s alright. It’d probably be better if I submerged it, but . . .”
“You don’t want to let go of the ledge because you can’t swim.” He held out his hand.
She looked at it like he was offering her a spider. “What?”
“I dismissed your tutor before he could teach you to swim. It’s only right that I make up for this deficit in your education.”
That was an offer Mutineer Millie couldn’t resist, even if her heart was doing this strange flippity-flop in her chest like a young rabbit tumbling gaily through a field of red clover. So much for adjusting to a new course.
“Oh, um.” She slid her hand into his.
She yelped in surprise as he twirled her around so her back lay flush against his chest. Then she panicked, the wall suddenly so far away.
“I’ve got you, Tula. Lie back.”
“Are you crazy?” She practically climbed him, wrapping arms and legs around his waist and chest just like the pink octopus he claimed her be. “I want the wall!”
“Stop thrashing.” His order was concise and brusque, but not without compassion. “I’m your wall now.”
For a moment she believed him, believed she could be safe in his arms like she had in the alcove.
“There, easy does it. You need to learn to float before you can swim, so lie back.”
His arms cradled her, and she shut her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see the soft, calm expression on his face. “Tuck your butt in.”
She snorted at that familiar instruction.
“Lean back, not too far that you swamp your nose. Pretend you’re a leaf on the surface of a little creek—you have those in Amberly, remember?”
Of course. With that picture in mind, and the feeling of Bradley’s strong, unwavering presence, she began to relax.
“Just . . . drift,” he murmured, barely audible above the fizzing water.
Her fingers digging into the meat of his shoulder eased.
They slipped to a loose hold around his biceps, then sagged into the water.
Eyes still closed, Millie let her limbs fall where they may, buoyed by the water.
Her breathing became easier, deeper. And the pain .
. . it disappeared from her shoulder, her legs, everywhere she had bruised during her flight and fight upon the dunes.
Shifting, she reached up and removed her hairpin so the water could have unimpeded access to the scratch on her scalp.
Sighing with relief, she relaxed fully into the apprentice’s arms.
Maybe it was a second later, maybe it was an hour or even a day, but she roused fitfully when water splashed her across the face. Millie lurched upright, grasping and gasping, an old fear returning.
“It’s just Dirk,” Bradley murmured into her ear. “I’ve got you.”
When she blinked the water from her eyes, she found herself almost cheek-to-cheek with the apprentice.
Just kiss him. A pirate took what she wanted. But what would it matter if she took this kiss but couldn’t have the heart behind it?
He hooked an auburn lock behind her ear, fingertips lingering on the edge of her jaw. She froze even as her heart struck sharp and sudden like lightning in her chest. “Millie,” he murmured, “I need to apol—”
The luck dragon erupted from the spring, gave a magnificent twirl to shed the water from his scales, and dropped into a hover. “Millie! Are you swimming?”
She could’ve throttled the dragon by his long noodle neck just then. “More like trying not to drown.”
“You’re doing an excellent job of clinging to Bradley to prevent such an unfortunate event. The barnacles of Pierpont would be so proud.”
She pushed away from Bradley, trying not to notice the steading touch that guided her to the wall.
The lovely inanimate stone wall that didn’t weaken her knees nor make her insides frisk about like butterflies enjoying the summer sun.
Once she reached the wall, she went one step further and heaved herself out onto its ledge.
“I was teaching her how to float,” Bradley offered, finally tearing his eyes from the way the princess’s soaked clothes clung to her body.
Catching sight of Dirk, he was so stunned by the change in his best friend’s appearance that his limbs forgot the necessity of treading water.
Bradley sank below the surface before instinct reminded that breathing air and not water was essential to his survival, and he rose gasping.
The apprentice hauled himself out of the water, chest heaving.
“Dirk,” he sputtered. “Your scales. Your feathers!”
Dirk’s illusions had vanished. He was simply a wingless luck dragon again, but one with a threadbare mane and tail and large patches of navy-colored hide where his blue scales had fallen off.
“It’s fine,” the luck dragon said lamely. “I’m fine, really—”
“How can you say that, Dirk?” Millie whispered, hands rising to her mouth. “Piss and plagues, it’s so much worse than before.”
“Before?” Bradley whipped around with a murderous glare. “You knew?”