Chapter 92
WHEN IN DOUBT OR THINKING UP SOLUTIONS TO DASTARDLY PLOTS, DRINK SOME TEA
Millie’s hand jumped for the hilt of her cutlass, but it wasn’t there.
Chandler attempting to schmooze her into an engagement was one thing, since Millie was wise enough to see through his charms, but him beguiling her dear sweet idiot of a younger sister with false promises of love and dreams come true was something altogether diabolical.
“I did hear the army captain say Leighton already had another princess on the hook.” Bradley ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Millie. I had no idea he was talking about your sister.”
“Can you astral project? Warn Olabeus?”
He gnawed on his lower lip in thought. “I’ve never tried. I know the spell, but it’s not as simple as uttering a few words in High Aetherial. There’s meditation, and I think you need incense—”
She whirled away from him, heading for the stairwell.
“I can try, Millie!”
“I need tea,” she shouted, and raced down to the kitchen.
As Bradley and Dirk huddled in the kitchen archway, the princess went about making her calming brew in the most violent way possible.
Cupboards banged. Tea and tisane ingredients spilled into the mortar.
She beat the pestle into the mortal with the same fervor of a giantess at a butter churn.
When she finally flung herself down into a seat at the kitchen table and took her first sip, the menfolk ventured closer.
Sip. Sip. Sip.
If the hot liquid blistered her throat, she didn’t notice it. She just gazed westward across the desert, towards Amberly. Slowly, the faraway look faded from her chocolate-colored eyes. She shot out of her seat and began to pace.
“Dirk, I need you to assemble the others. Fink, too. Immediately.”
The luck dragon zipped out of the kitchen, and Bradley took the opportunity to pour her some more tea. She took a large swallow and handed it back to him so she could keep pacing. He sat in his chair and watched, trusting her to unburden herself to him in her own time.
The others arrived after only a few minutes, Sir Roger hollering and swatting at the dragon. “What did I say about ‘sorta flying’ me anywhere ever again?” He rushed to the sink and dry heaved.
“Apologies, Sir Roger, but this really couldn’t wait.” Millie guided him to the seat she had vacated. Bradley poured him some tea into Dirk’s china cup. “Please, sit down.”
Pocket reached for her hand, gave it a squeeze. “What’s going on, bestie? I thought when y’all returned I’d be popping the last cork on my mead.”
“Just stay with me.” Millie turned to the old hedge knight who was dragging a cloth napkin across his mouth. “Sir Roger, do you remember what you said yesterday when you saw the Skybreaker?”
He collected himself with a sip of tea and replied, “I was confused what it was doing here when last I knew it was supposed to be headed north.”
“And it was supposed to be headed north months ago. In fact, it was shipped out before you were tasked to come rescue me, right?”
He nodded. “’Twas.”
“And you said something else. Something about oil. Why did you expect it to be covered in oil?”
“To prevent corrosion during transport. Don’t want those gears and such rusting and then not firing.”
“So why would that Skybreaker, the one we saw yesterday, not have oil on it? Could water have washed it away?”
Sir Roger snorted. “Nope. That oil’s made from pine tar and beef tallow. No water’s washing that away. At least, not so soon.”
“So why the lack of oil?”
“Laziness? A rush-job?”
“Or maybe it was new? And since Merle is only a stone’s throw away from Ashburnum and the DDP was rapidly coming to a close, they didn’t bother with it?”
“So if that one’s new, then where is the Skybreaker I saw in the castle before I was sent to rescue you?”
“Hold that thought.” She spun towards the frog prince in the birdcage. “Prince Henri, you said you battled ruffians in the Strip just to get into the desert. Did you really?”
The bullfrog inflated his throat pouch. “I said I did, didn’t I?”
“Pocket, would you allow me to borrow Fink for a moment?”
The pickpocket collected the ferret off her shoulder and handed him over. Millie flipped the latch on the birdcage and held the ferret mere inches from the door.
Prince Henri flattened against the bars on the opposite side of his cage. “What you doing, woman? Desist!”
“Answer the question truthfully, Prince Henri, and my hand won’t accidentally throw this ferret into your cage and lock the door after him.”
Fink chittered, squirming ferociously to get free.
“Alright, alright! I didn’t battle anyone; I slipped past them. But they were still there!”
“Who’s ‘they?’”
“I don’t know!”
She swung the wire door open with a flick of her fingernail. Fink squealed.
“I don’t know,” Prince Henri wailed. “There was just a bunch of thugs milling about the Strip mugging and beating any Heroes who tried to enter the desert. That’s all I know, I swear!”
“Heroes, or people in general?”
“Just anyone who ran his mouth saying how he was going to be the next king of Amberly. They let the caravans and traders go!”
Millie closed the door and handed a very disappointed ferret back to Pocket.
“I know, baby,” Pocket crooned. “Life’s unfair. Millie didn’t mean to tease you like that.”
“Someone didn’t want you rescued,” Duncan said.
“Someone was giving Jax time to do his job,” she spat. “And ensuring my Discount Damsel price transferred to Rosamund.”
“Chandler,” Bradley concluded. “And Gladstone told him about Dirk, what he truly was. Which was why he sent the army here for—” He cut himself off with a glance around the room. “For reasons.”
“Don’t be mysterious at all, Lord of the Curls,” Pocket snarked.
“For a luck dragon’s heart,” Sir Roger said.
Bradley glared at him. “I’m from Merle, boy.
I know the story of the Cursed Lands. Legend says since it was a luck dragon who cursed Leighton; it would take the heart of a luck dragon buried in the ground to break Leighton’s curse and restore the land to its former glory. ”
“It sure could use it,” Dirk said. “Drought and famine everywhere—even their mines have dried up. Those rubies I, uh, stole? Apparently they were the last. The very last. Leighton’s got nothing left to give.”
Duncan lifted his hand. “I thought a Worthy One had to remove a soup spoon from a petrified loaf of bread in the Cuke and Snail to lift the curse.”
“You think Chandler hasn’t tried that?” Sir Roger snorted. “A thousand other men, too? A hundred thousand? Even Baron Demir tried to steal that kingdom out of from under Chandler’s nose by giving that spoon a tug. They all failed. That prince is trying to keep his kingdom anyway he can.”
Millie turned to Bradley, her eyes soft and apologetic. “And what happens to men who fail over and over and over again?”
He swallowed and resisted the urge to look away. “They become desperate.” He cleared the hoarseness from his voice. “They’ll try anything.”
Dirk nudged his muzzle under Bradley’s hand.
Millie faced the group. “I know where the first Skybreaker is. It’s in Amberly.
The attack on the tower was just a spur-of-the-moment plan when Leighton found out about Dirk.
There’s a reason why Raleigh Flinthart was leading the charge instead of Chandler—he’s already in Amberly.
When he couldn’t marry me, he targeted my sister.
He’s going to marry Rosamund and use the Skybreaker on the dragons that will be there in attendance for the wedding.
” Her voice turned rueful. “The Amberlian royal family has excellent relations with the local dragon population, after all. To a desperate man, one dragon heart is as good as another.”
“Then why did he go after Dirk when he hired him?” Duncan asked.
“He knew I was young,” Dirk realized aloud.
“A dragon’s power increases with age and strength.
Dirk the Dangerous’s heart couldn’t possibly lift the curse, not like the Amberlian dragons’.
But he was good enough to steal a princess.
” The luck dragon deflated a foot or two in altitude.
“I’m so sorry, Millie. This is all my fault. ”