The Little Selkie (retail)
Page 14
She stared at Dooley with narrowed eyes.
Dooley laughed nervously.
“Avert your eyes, Miss Dylan. Dooley is about to receive the biggest dressing down in his adult life,” Prince Callan suggested.
“Callan? Callan! Where are you?”
Prince Callan’s lips flattened, but otherwise his expression didn’t change. “Coming, Mother,” he called. “If you’ll excuse me. I’ll return later,” he said to his friends before heading in his mother’s direction.
Today, the queen sat in a great, gilded chair. Princess Nessa was present, although she didn’t look too happy about the arrangement as her mother was making her sit in a little chair next to her. Prince Viggo and Princess Fianna stood in attendance a short distance away.
Dylan tipped her head as she watched the royal children flock around their mother.
“I see Her Highness hasn’t gotten over the fright with Princess Nessa and the water horse,” Dooley said, coming to stand next to Dylan.
What do you mean?
“Queen Etain does this whenever something dangerous or life-threatening happens to one of her children,” Cagney said, joining them.
“You should have seen it when Callan and his crew were shipwrecked two years ago. Callan was thought to be drowned, but they found him on the beach, a long way from the wreck,” Dooley said, turning to look at Dylan.
Dylan nodded politely and kept her expression interested but placid as guilt prodded her like fish nibbling at her toes. I probably shouldn’t have manhandled Prince Callan so badly when dragging him ashore. Next time I will conduct myself better—although if there is a next time with the prince, he probably deserves to get his head cracked on some rocks.
“The queen didn’t let him out of her sight for months. She almost banned Prince Viggo from attending the wedding ceremony of Prince Cristoph and Princess Cinderella of Erlauf last winter—and he had three weather mages with him,” Cagney added.
“She wasn’t far off, though. Viggo’s ship still had a rough time of it,” Dooley said. “Those storms. They will break us if they don’t dissipate in the next year. Even Mother and Father are worried.”
“Yes,” Cagney said, her gaze troubled.
Dylan’s placid expression crumbled. Bandits and trading—I should have seen the way the wind was blowing ages ago. After this is over Da will have to see about getting some eyes and ears on land. We wouldn’t have been so blindsided if we knew the storms were affecting landers. That fiendish sea witch!
“But there’s no sense worrying over it. We cannot do anything to end the storms. We may as well enjoy ourselves this afternoon. Would you like to play a round with me, my dove?” Dooley asked.
“No. You are going to return to your room and change into something dry so you may be presentable,” Cagney said.
“Must I?” Dooley asked. “If I stand in the sun long enough, I will dry.”
“You have pond scum smeared on your back. You will change,” Cagney said.
Dooley sighed. “Very well. As you insist, pearl of my soul.” Dooley set aside his racquet before he started to walk off. “This is almost fortuitous. My fuchsia-colored breeches should be dry by now.”
Cagney’s face froze as her employer walked off. “Lord Dooley!” She lunged after him. “Excuse me, Miss Dylan. Lord Dooley!”
Dylan grinned and watched the pair duck through the gardens and disappear when they rounded the palace corner. Alone, she picked out a selection of snacks and found a stone bench to sit on while she ate. The bench gave her a beautiful view of the gardens and the nobles having varying degrees of success in hitting the feather-accented ball back and forth and, most importantly, Jarlath.
At the moment, the puffed-up toad was attempting to flirt with Lady Shauna. Dylan thought it would be unlikely his efforts would be rewarded, based on the way his two friends leered at his back like bloodthirsty sharks.
Dylan leaned back and watched the lady slip out of Jarlath’s grasp and return to her circle of friends. His companions came up on either side of him and slapped his shoulders, consoling him in another failure.
She grinned, cheered by her captor’s loss, when a feminine voice interrupted her thoughts. “Are you enjoying yourself?” Lady Aisling had joined her, looking lovely in a gown of emerald green and unaffected by the persistent sun.
Dylan reached for her slate, but Lady Aisling continued. “That was a rhetorical question. Of course you are. The royal family is paying you special notice for saving Princess Nessa. Who wouldn’t enjoy such marked attention? But I thought I would be friendly and tell you it is temporary.”
Dylan studied the young lady for a minute before picking up on the stiffness in her back, and the tiny wrinkle between the lady’s brows. Ah, Dylan thought. She is upset by it. Dylan rolled her shoulders back and ignored the young lady as she went back to watching Jarlath. Should I stroll over and see what he and his friends are discussing? Judging by their gazes, though, I think it is Lady Shauna.
“Perhaps not this week, or even the following week, but soon your gallant rescue of Princess Nessa will fade from their minds. The attention will stop, and the attraction will fall away,” Lady Aisling continued. “Jarlath will return to Kingsgrace Castle, taking you with him. I, however, will remain at the Summer Palace with the royal family.”
Yes, they are definitely still discussing Lady Shauna. For a man whose ally does a great deal of damage, Jarlath is disgustingly distracted, Dylan frowned.
“Do you hear me, Miss Dylan?” Lady Aisling asked.
Upon hearing her name, she looked up.
The beautiful lady bent over her, as if sharing a secret. “You are nothing. You mean nothing. Prince Callan is mine, no matter how you might divert him for the moment. I will be queen, and when I am, you can be certain you will never see Callan again.”
Dylan raised her eyebrows at the proclaimed “most beautiful lady in Ringsted.” She could not help but write out a response. If that is true…why are you so angry? Are you worried your beauty can’t win against someone who is nothing?
Lady Aisling gaped at her.
Dylan smiled at the stunned lady briefly. Then she scooted down and stood. She strolled to the refreshments table, hearing a number of the mean girls who had previously insulted her gather at Lady Aisling’s side.
They glared at her, but she caught sight of a tray of iced desserts that a servant carried. The girls—who resembled seagulls with their demanding, high pitched voices and propensity to gather everywhere—faded from thought as Dylan grew misty-eyed over the tray.
She took a dessert—some kind of mousse sprinkled with berries—and scooped into it. She silently hummed in delight when the taste of cold vanilla exploded in her mouth.
Refreshing, she thought with a smile. Some of the smile slipped off her face when she noticed Bump and Lump’s steady gazes. Dylan scratched her neck and set her dessert aside. She grabbed two of the mousses and approached the men, holding them out.
The two guards looked at her as though she were offering them a live squid.
Dylan rolled her eyes and shoved the dishes beneath their noses.
Reluctantly, as if eating the dessert would be a painful experience, they took the dishes. Bump squinted at his before poking it. Lump rumbled, “Thank you,” as he watched her with a wary eye.
Pleased with herself, Dylan rejoined the party to reclaim her dessert. She ate a second big spoonful and exhaled in sheer happiness.
“Ahem.”
Dylan blinked, her food celebration interrupted, and glanced down at the voice.
A young, pleasant-looking man—a hand’s length shorter than Dylan as most human men were—smiled up at her. “Good afternoon, Miss Dylan. If you will forgive my impertinence for introducing myself, I am Lord Eirnin of Seabreech Bay. I already know you are Miss Dylan, the ward of Lord Jarlath of Kingsgrace Castle.” He reminded her a little of an otter—a cute, cuddly creature that looked perpetually happy.
She returned his
smile and wrote, It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Eirnin.
“I heard how you saved Princess Nessa. That was very brave of you,” he said.
Thank you, but I fear I went about it in a foolish and stupid way, Dylan confessed.
“No, no!” Lord Eirnin said, shaking his head. “No one was hurt, and you saved the princess’s life! How could that be foolish?”
I approached the kelpie armed with rocks and a dagger.
“I think it was courageous of you.”
I thank you for your kindness, Dylan wrote, her lips quirked in a smile.
“The way I hear it, you recognized the signs of the approaching kelpie.”
Dylan nodded.
“It seems you are familiar with the ocean. Do you live near it?”
I live IN it, Dylan thought wryly before she nodded again.
“I love the sea,” Eirnin admitted. “I don’t have much of a mind for trading, but I will fool myself in thinking I make a jolly good sailor. The sea air and the volatile ocean, there’s something enchanting about it.”
It can be beautiful, but also very cruel, Dylan wrote. She shifted a little and glanced around. Although the conversation was perhaps the most enjoyable she ever had with a noble who was not Lord Dooley or Prince Callan, the air felt heavy. Like a storm about to rip open.
“Oh, aye,” Eirnin nodded. “I’ve been on a wrecked ship a few times. Of course one of those occurrences, it was a little one-man sail boat, but even so. It was a dark storm. I was a fool to go out in it. Do you sail, Miss Dylan?”
I’ve never had the opportunity to.
Lord Eirnin brightened. “Perhaps, after all the festivities here are over, your guardian could be convinced to stop by Seabreech Bay? I would love to—”
“Eirnin, there you are,” Prince Callan said, appearing behind the shorter lord. The prince wore his skin-deep smile, and he looked pleasant enough, but his voice was dark, like thunder. “Could I have a moment of your time?”
Lord Eirnin blinked before flashing his cheerful otter smile at the prince. “Of course, Your Highness, but I was just having a delightful conversation with Miss Dylan. We—”
“It won’t take long,” Prince Callan said, throwing an arm over Eirnin’s shoulders and steering him away from her.
At their retreat, Dylan realized her dessert was starting to melt. She rushed to eat it, enjoying it before it could puddle into something unrecognizable.
“We have returned—although Cagney wouldn’t let me wear my fuchsia breeches,” Lord Dooley said with a gusty sigh.
Cagney said nothing, she just narrowed her eyes at the young lord.
“Where is Callan? I thought he would have broken away from his tether by now,” Lord Dooley said.
He is talking to Lord Eirnin.
Cagney blinked. “Who?”
Lord Eirnin of Seabreech Bay? He was telling me about sailing when Callan insisted he needed to have a private discussion with him.
“Oooh. Lord Eirnin. Shorter fellow, a little plump, but happy?” Lord Dooley asked.
Dylan nodded.
“I’m not surprised. Callan should have spoken to him before the little fellow worked up the courage to talk to you. Would have saved the man some time,” Lord Dooley said.
I don’t understand.
“Prince Callan can be possessive,” Lord Dooley said.
What?
“Oh look, here he comes,” Cagney said in an effort to cut the conversation off.
Prince Callan and Lord Eirnin strolled side by side. The prince looked cheerful enough, but Lord Eirnin was white faced and a little dazed. Callan shook the young lord’s hand. He bowed and tottered off, like a shipwrecked sailor just returned to land.
“Good to see you dried off again, Dooley,” Callan said, smiling at his friend when he returned to the group.
What happened with Lord Eirnin? Dylan asked.
“I just needed a moment with him to remind him of Seabreech Bay’s borders. As prince, I can’t let men poach on other nobles’ territory,” Callan said with a smile. It was a different flavor of smile, one that was quite self-satisfied.
I don’t get it, Dylan wrote.
“Did the poor man even know he was poaching?” Lord Dooley raised his eyebrows at his friend.
“He didn’t. Which is why I had just a kind word or two for him,” Prince Callan said. “But he knows now. I don’t expect any trouble in the future. He’s a good man.”
Dylan turned to Cagney, hoping for enlightenment.
“I am positive you don’t want to know,” Cagney said.
She accepted the answer and got one of the vanilla mousse treats. She presented it to Cagney and snapped up a second for herself. Heaven, was all she wrote before eating a bit of the treat.
“It is delicious,” Cagney admitted.
How do they make something cool in the summer?
“They bring in ice and snow from the Chronos Mountains and store it in bunkers built into the ground,” Cagney explained.
Dylan set her dessert down to write, Ingenious.
“It is one good thing about having such a big mountain range—even if it does cut off all possible land trading routes with other countries,” Prince Callan said before he picked up Dylan’s mousse and ate a spoonful of it.
She held out her hands for her dish. As soon as Prince Callan relinquished it, she went back to eating it.
“I agree,” Lord Dooley said. He noticed Cagney frowning at Prince Callan. “What?”
“I was just thinking, Your Highness, that if you talked to Lord Eirnin about…poaching, you should discuss your…borders with Lady Aisling.” Cagney’s sharp blue eyes settled heavily on Prince Callan.
Dylan finished her mousse and set the dish aside. I thought that was the point of maps, to define territories. Aren’t your maps accurate?
“They’re accurate. But sometimes an unexplored territory causes trouble,” Prince Callan said. “For instance, one doesn’t know if it’s filled with marshes and bogs or with rich forests and rivers.”
Dylan looked to Cagney, who bit her lip.
I have a feeling you are all making things far more complicated than they need to be, Dylan wrote.
“There is a good chance your words are right, Miss Dylan,” Lord Dooley said. “Now, would you like to try your hand at playing with me?”
Dylan gave him a look devoid of enthusiasm.
Dooley laughed. “The picture of fun, I tell you. Come on, when we’re finished we can take a picnic lunch at the ocean. I should like to favorably compare the pearl of my heart to all the stark beauty—”
“Mind your borders, Lord Dooley,” Cagney said.
Dooley gave her his mournful eyes. “But I’m trying to expand them.”
“Careful, or they will shrink,” Cagney promised.
Dylan shook her head.
“What?” Callan asked her.
Dylan hesitated a moment before writing out, I’m glad I don’t own land.
Callan started laughing so hard he had to sit on a bench to recover.
Days later, the oppressive silence and loneliness of sleeping alone drove Dylan from her bedroom around the midnight hour. She tucked her slate under her arm in case Bump and Lump followed. She’d need to explain herself. Feeling that food would not help her tonight, she forwent a trip to the kitchens and, instead, made her way to the beach.
There had been no sight or even hint of any ocean predators since the day Dylan saved Princess Nessa, and the shore was warm and soothing to her, embracing her like a favorite shawl as she sat on the still warm sand and watched the moonlight play on the water’s surface. The incoming and outgoing waves sounded a steady beat—their tiny white crests and white froth glowing in the moonlight. The reflected moonlight lit up the area like dusk.
Dylan propped her arms on her legs—which were pulled tight to her chest. Home, she thought, staring out at the welcoming ocean. I want to go home. I want to dive in the ocean and see my sisters, and Ma, and Da.
She sighed in frustration. Waves crashed, spraying the sandy shore with sea water. Giving into the ocean’s siren call, Dylan abandoned her writing materials, tied up her skirt—she was wearing her plain red gown from Jarlath—and waded in so the incoming waves hit her calf. She stretched upwards, flexing her fingers and toes, before doing an experimental twirl.
Since arriving at the Summer Palace, she hadn’t danced like a selkie at all. Her muscles were cramping up from the lack of her usual activity. If she got up early enough, she was able to sneak in an ocean swim, but not a dance.
Dylan puttered around in the water before stringing together a few selkie dance moves—liquid twirls; wide, elegant hand gestures that mimicked seaweed swaying in the ocean currents; jumps, the way dolphins breached the surface; and hypnotic, rolling swirls.
She stopped once or twice to go swimming in the ocean, but the music from the previous week’s party played in her head, and Dylan couldn’t help but try to fix a selkie dance to the pretty music. She finished a twirl performed on one foot—the other jutting up behind her like a whale fin—when she caught sight of a man holding a lantern and standing on shore.
Dylan dropped her leg and stood awkwardly, blushing when she realized it was Prince Callan watching her.
“You’re a beautiful dancer,” the prince said.
Dylan let down her soaked skirts and shook her head. She made her way up the beach and reclaimed her slate and chalk from where she had abandoned them before her swim. Not in my family. I am respectable enough, but not the best.
“Just because you aren’t the best doesn’t mean your dancing isn’t beautiful,” Prince Callan said, sitting down on a large bolder, smooth with age. He patted a spot next to him, inviting Dylan to sit with him. “And it’s interesting; I don’t think I’ve ever seen you embarrassed.”
Dylan wrinkled her nose at him. That is because usually I do foolish things in privacy, or as spur of the moment, terrible decisions.