Chapter 86 #3
“Of course she was a hedge witch. How else could a country girl ensnare a future king into wedlock without the assistance of a powerful love potion?”
“Maybe he liked her personality?” Pocket asked.
Prince Henri snorted. “That’s just what a man says when he wants to see a woman’s tits without paying for the experience.”
Millie and Pocket shared an unamused but unsurprised look.
“I seriously don’t understand why your mother turned you into a frog, Prince Henri,” Pocket deadpanned. “What a wench.”
“Truly it is a wonder why you’re still unkissed and single,” Millie mused.
“Remember that when I save us all in just a few minutes, Princess. I will be expecting appropriate compensation for my heroics.” He jumped to another shelf, rooted around.
“I never understood the human male’s fascination with tits, anyway,” Dirk said as he offloaded his crystals on Bradley to put in his pockets. “They’re just for nourishing young. What’s an adult male want with them?”
The red-faced apprentice was saved from answering when the frog prince, who loathed not being the center of attention, continued loudly, “Anyway, I vowed no inbred backwater trollop would ever entrap me in such a fashion and learned all I could about potions and antidotes from her. Except the suspicious sow must’ve figured out my motives and turned me into a frog because of it.
I say, peasant, is there any molasses up here or is that down in the kitchen? ”
Bradley opened a cabinet under the shelves and removed a large jug. He handed it to Duncan, who almost buckled under its weight.
“Only about a third of that,” Prince Henri said.
That must’ve been the last ingredient, for the frog abandoned the shelves for Sir Roger’s shoulder. He peered into the cauldron, rubbing his webbed hands together, as the hedge knight stirred in the molasses. “It’s almost ready. Now where is that ferret?”
Fink scuttled under the tails of Pocket’s headscarf.
“Oh come now, I only need a few hairs. Rabbit fur would’ve been better but your species is nearly as randy. Come on, or some soldier’s going to turn you into a sock.”
The ferret slid down Pocket’s arm and pooled into her hands. “It’ll be over before you know it,” she promised him, and plucked a pinch of black hairs from his scruff. The ferret whimpered, and Pocket cradled him to her chest.
Scowling, she sprinkled the hairs into the cauldron. “This had better be worth it, Henri, or I’m letting Fink finally get himself a frog leg.”
“Hmph,” the frog sniffed.
The moment the hair sizzled and disappeared into the potion, it turned red as a young lady’s first blush. Prince Henri hopped up and down on Sir Roger’s shoulder. “Go. Go now!”
Bradley threaded a wooden pole through the cauldron’s handles, and the apprentice and the hedge knight lifted the heavy pot off the hearth and crab-walked over to the western balcony.
Millie and Pocket raced to aid them, and with a burst of wind from the luck dragon, they craned the cauldron over the wrought-iron railing and poured the red liquid all over the soldiers climbing up their ropes.
The men suddenly abandoned their assault on the tower. They slid down their ropes, linked hands with their fellow infected, and skipped off towards the sunset. Which wasn’t due for many hours yet, so they skipped off in a westerly direction.
“Hmph, should have used the whole ferret,” Prince Henri grumped. “That’s the weakest love potion I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“They’re no longer attacking the tower, though,” Millie pointed out. “I’d still chalk that up in the win column.”
“Jubilations!” Dirk applauded the frog prince.
Prince Henri was easily persuaded to take a bow.
“You’re all aware of my preferred method of compensation,” he said, straightening. “Pucker up, Princess!”
Millie didn’t hear him, her attention on the desert below. About thirty men with crossbows remained, plus those manning the Skybreaker. And there was that infernal dark mage to contend with.
A pirate’s main advantage was their ship’s mobility, and this tower was rooted to the ground.
There was no way to ram them, and there were no cannons to speak of to blow their ranks to smithereens.
Her mind whirled back to the war room sessions she’d eavesdropped on, but since Amberly was rarely at war with anyone other than Evertea, and it was always about disrupting trade routes with the duchy, those recalled lessons proved of little use to her now.
“Sir Roger,” she began, and jumped when the apprentice’s hand curled over her shoulder.
“You’ve done wonderfully, Millie,” he said softly. “Now it’s our turn.”
She cast a worried look at Dirk.
Bradley hooked her chin with the crook of his finger and guided her gaze back to his. It was sure behind those spectacles, without trace of pride. “He’ll be fine. With your permission, Captain.”
Mutineer Millie grinned. “Permission granted. Whip their asses, if you would be so kind, Mr. Donmarin, Master Dirk.”
“Aye, aye!” Dirk saluted her with a flick of his tail and followed after the apprentice as he vaulted over the balcony railing.