The Little Selkie (retail) (15 page)

Encouraged by this great turn of events, Dylan ruffled Neil’s hair as she left the kitchens, navigating her way through the main wing of the palace with ease. She slipped outside and had just stepped onto the stone bridge that stretched between the main wing and the beach wing, when a voice stopped her.

“There you are. Cagney has been looking all over for you,” Prince Callan said.

She swore colorfully and with great imagination in her mind as she turned to face Prince Callan. This was one of her few chances to search Jarlath’s room. The dunce could fall out of love with Lady Shauna any day and choose to return to Kingsgrace—which would mean imprisonment. She
had
to find her pelt before then.

If only Prince Callan wasn’t such a concerned host—what is wrong with him? Did someone steal his fish?

The handsome prince watched her, his eyes narrowed and his smile absent. “What took you away from the party? Wasn’t there enough food?” he asked.

She tried to think of a good reply, but there wasn’t one that wouldn’t require an outrageous lie or a few choice words, so she made no move to write on her slate.

“Come on,” Prince Callan said, holding out his hand.

Dylan’s brow furrowed as she stared at him. Callan was
angry
. Dylan didn’t understand why, but his anger was obvious, stirring in his eyes and shadowing the corners of his mouth.

When she didn’t accept his hand, Prince Callan walked forward and took hers, leading her in the direction of the gardens.

Dylan, with her long legs, kept the pace and let him tow her along.

They rejoined the party with little fuss.

Unfortunately, the two people Dylan most hoped wouldn’t notice her absence, Bump and Lump, saw Callan escort her in from an entirely different direction than they had last seen her. She had hopes that they might write it off, but judging how they stood together, far from their original post, it was likely they had started looking for her before Callan took it upon himself to return her to the party.

Dooley and Cagney were seated on a stone bench strewn with tasseled pillows. When Dylan and Prince Callan strolled into view, Cagney’s relief was obvious.

“You’re fine—good,” Cagney said.

“She was worried some of the court hags were bullying you in a forsaken corner of the garden,” Dooley said.

Callan released her hand, and she plopped down in the space between Cagney and Dooley, squeezed between her friends. She smiled as she brushed shoulders with them and felt just a little bit better with the warm contact.

Callan bowed to the trio. “Enjoy,” was all he said before leaving them.

“Something’s got his waistcoat in a knot,” Dooley said, watching his friend place a smile on his face and greet other guests. “Did he say anything to you, Dylan?”

She shook her head.
Even though he
ruined
my search-mission. I wonder if I could forge a letter in Lady Shauna’s hand to lure Jarlath out…

“Odd,” Cagney said.

“I’ll speak to him tonight,” Dooley promised. “We’ll discuss it over tea.”

Cagney adjusted a lock of her hair. “Wouldn’t drinks be more customary?”

“Only for those who are unrefined and not dedicated disciples of elegance,” Dooley winked, looking ridiculous in his pink waistcoat.

“Forget I asked, please,” Cagney muttered.

For the remainder of the party, Dylan spent most of her time by the snacks or penned in by Cagney and Dooley. Her moves were always shadowed by Bump and Lump—who were no longer stationary, but moved around the perimeter of the gardens, grim reminders that she was not on her own schedule.

If she ever strayed far from her friends, Prince Callan would appear and, politely but irrefutably, escort her back to Cagney’s side. Dylan wasn’t sure why he suddenly showed the herding characteristics of a dog, but it was troublesome.

When the garden party ended at twilight, she was relieved to return to her room.

“Did you enjoy your stroll in the maze, Miss Dylan?” Lump asked as she led the way to the beachside wing.

She stopped and turned to look at her guards. They wore bland expressions, but Bump was fondling a dagger hilt, and Lump’s bushy eyebrows were raised above his sharp eyes.

Dylan nodded before she picked up her path again.
Perhaps Jarlath will be absent from his room tonight. With luck he will be out bemoaning his lack of progress with Lady Shauna. I could conduct a search if Bump-and-Lump turn in early.

When Dylan reached her room, Lump said, “We’ll be here all evening, Miss Dylan.” As if they could read her thoughts.

The unornamented words made Dylan shiver as she was reminded that they were Jarlath’s men.
So much for sneaking around.
Dylan shut herself in her room, grateful to avoid both her “guardian” and “guards.”

After a week of failed search attempts, Dylan’s nerves were worn thin. Jarlath must have exercised his miniscule mental abilities and hidden her pelt in an extraordinary spot as she had yet to sniff out so much as a hint of it. She was the daughter of
King Murron
, and the best singer of the Ringsted selkies, yet a puffed up dunce was outmaneuvering her. It was
enraging
.

She wished she had listened to the enchantress and notified her family before brashly throwing herself into enemy hands. She could no longer feel even the faintest trace of selkie crooning—although the sea witch’s black magic still fouled the oceans with constant storms.

Dylan pressed her lips together and squinted at the dazzling ocean. Behind her, noblewomen giggled and talked, fluttering around the royalty. Queen Etain, Prince Callan, Prince Viggo, and some of their friends were present. Dooley and Cagney were not. Over the past few days, Dylan’s time at the ocean had become something of a social hour—particularly since Princess Nessa heard about it and started coming out every morning with her. It was surprisingly early for nobility, but Dylan had been on the beach for two hours before anyone joined her. Unfortunately, the ocean seemed to be in an equally bad temper, and had done little to bolster her sagging spirits.

“Dylan, did you see that wave? It was
huge
!” Princess Nessa called. She was playing in the ocean tides that seemed unnaturally high considering how close to shore she stood.

She broke out of her foul mood long enough to smile and waved to the princess, but as soon as the young girl went back to playing, Dylan’s puckered look returned.

“What’s wrong?” Prince Callan asked, handing her a fancy glass goblet of apple cider.

Dylan sipped the liquid, but instead of quenching her thirst, the cider was sour on her tongue. She handed the goblet back to Callan.
Something is not right
, she wrote.

Callan looked back at the socializing nobles. “Do you also think it is unnatural for Viggo to be up so early?” he joked.

No. It’s the ocean. Something’s not right. It’s…bitter
, Dylan wrote, struggling to put her feelings into words. Everything was off. The ocean was darker than usual, and the sea brine stung Dylan’s eyes instead of soothing her nose. She could feel it in her bones the same way she could feel whale songs. Something was wrong.

Dylan looked over to see if Callan was laughing at her. To her surprise, he looked disturbed. He caught her eyes,  nodded, and retreated back to the nobles. “Mother, shouldn’t we return to the palace? Father has that trade meeting soon, and he wanted both of us to attend,” he said.

Dylan paced a few steps, keeping her eyes on the ocean as the skirt of her saffron gown twisted around her ankles. She rubbed her nose and watched the water before she approached it, standing up to her ankles when the tide rushed in. Dylan closed her eyes and listened. There were no whales nearby, but neither were there storms. She could feel the faintest flickers of the typhoon from farther up the coast, and it wasn’t moving at all. The seawater dragged sand over her feet as it retreated…and it didn’t come back.

Dylan’s eyes shot open when she felt it. A water horse. Dylan looked for the swell of water that would accompany an attacking kelpie. To her horror, she saw a huge wave, taller than she was, not twenty feet from Princess Nessa—who was grinning at it.

Dylan tried to scream, but nothing would come out. She ran, her heart pounding in her throat. She and the wave closed in on Nessa…but Dylan reached her first. She grabbed the smiling princess and hauled her backwards.

“What? Dylan—what are you doing!” the princess shouted just as the kelpie burst from its wave, screaming and shrieking.

Dylan dragged Nessa far enough up the beach that the monster would have to leave the water to chase them. She hoped it would be enough of a deterrent, but the water horse was bold, and it leaped from its wave—which stood up unnaturally instead of crashing down.

Dylan pushed the princess up the shore towards Callan who was sprinting towards them. As she grabbed a large rock, she saw Callan toss Nessa over his shoulder and run up towards his brother and their friends—who had their swords out.

Dylan flung her rock at the oncoming kelpie, cracking the beast in the face. It stopped but didn’t retreat, and it shrieked again in pain and hunger.

Dylan plucked her dagger from the bosom of her gown, grabbed another rock, and ran towards the beast. The best plan to survive a kelpie encounter was to flee and avoid it altogether, but if you were cornered, it was smartest to bluff and come out fighting.

“
Dylan
!” Callan shouted.

She ignored him and raised her second rock in the air. She held it poised to strike as she soundlessly snarled at the beast.

The water horse hissed—a sound like steam rising from water. It shook its scraggly mane, flecking the sand with black foam.

Dylan slapped her skirt as she took up a standard defensive stance, her dress ripping. Her hair blew in the whipping wind, and she opened her mouth in a wordless threat.

I’m so stupid! What kind of selkie bluffs when she can’t use her powers? My sisters are right. I need to think more before I act.

The kelpie stepped forward, and Dylan whipped her rock at it, cracking it in the head again. The water horse reared up but took two steps backwards. It shook its head and dove back into the ocean making the water swirl backwards unnaturally, just as Callan skid to a stop next to her, his sword outstretched.

Dylan’s shoulders slumped, and she almost dropped her dagger, shivering.
I don’t think I have ever been so foolish in my entire life as I have been the past month. Getting my pelt stolen, my voice sealed, challenging a kelpie without any real means of defense—what other stupid thing can I do?

“You idiot.” Callan wrapped an arm around Dylan and swept her into a bone-crushing hug. “You could have gotten yourself
killed
!”

She exhaled and dropped her head to rest it on Callan’s lean shoulder, her eyes still on the ocean.
Something brought that kelpie here. They aren’t normally drawn to civilization. It’s too dangerous for them. They pick on the stragglers; those who are alone. What was it doing approaching such a large party of humans?

Before she had a chance to further ponder the matter, Callan abruptly, but not cruelly, pushed her away from him. One of his hands still held his unsheathed sword. The other he clasped on her shoulder. He stared at her for a moment, then let her go and smoothed her hair. “Is everyone alright?” he asked, turning his face from Dylan, although he did not walk away from her.

The party was in hysterics. Multiple women were crying; one or two had even swooned.

“Nessa is fine,” Prince Viggo said. “She’s just upset—ouch—don’t bite, you little cretin!” he said before the young princess evaded his grip. She went running down the shore and threw herself at Dylan, bursting into tears.

Dylan discreetly slid her dagger back into place—hoping Bump and Lump hadn’t seen it—before she patted the little girl on the head. This seemed to make the princess cry harder. At a loss, Dylan bent over and picked her up, just like her father used to do when she was Nessa’s age.

Nessa sobbed into her shoulder, and Dylan rocked her body back and forth in a soothing motion as the little girl ringed her arms around her neck. She wanted to croon to the child, to sing her reassurances. But her throat was silent, so all she could do was pat the girl and carry her back to the hysterical Queen Etain.