The Little Selkie (retail)

by K. M. Shea

  Dylan’s mind stopped racing. The girl leading the search party. Disappointment hit Dylan like a tidal wave, shocking Dylan further. Why am I disappointed? I don’t love Prince Callan. I still wouldn’t leave the sea to be with him. But…but this is as painful as walking on shattered glass.

  Dylan looked up at Callan, who watched her with glittering eyes.

  A search party found you, she finally wrote.

  “Yes,” Callan agreed, looking out to the ocean. “But she saved me.”

  Callan said nothing more, and Dylan was unwilling to push the topic. She sat next to Callan, miserable and no longer hungry. They watched the sun play on the waves, the heat of the sun making them sweat. Returning to the ocean would be terribly painful. This wasn’t like the time she saved Callan after his ship went down. She knew him, she laughed with him—and Dooley and Cagney. They had gone shopping, eaten meals, and attended parties together. And while she missed her family and her agile sea lion body, she knew when this was all over she was going to miss Dooley, Cagney, and especially Callan. She wouldn’t be able to visit them—she was a selkie, after all. She was going to lose them. Her chest ached with the thought, and the salt that stung her eyes wasn’t just from the ocean air.

  We should go inside, she wrote after half an hour passed.

  “What, are you hungry for lunch?” Callan asked.

  Dylan smiled but couldn’t come up with a response. She felt sick to her stomach.

  “Very well. But before we go in, I have something to ask of you,” Callan said. “As you may or may not be aware, given your lack of interest in social events, the Summer Ball is in two days. Would you do me the honor of being your escort for the night?”

  She hesitated. She considered asking Callan why he wasn’t asking the girl from the search party, but Callan continued. “It’s considered the culmination of our summer party season. After this, most of the lords and ladies will return home. Father and I will return to Glenglassera, although Mother will remain here with Fianna, Viggo, and Nessa for the rest of the summer.”

  Dylan licked her lips.

  “Please? I would like to take you to this ball,” Callan said, leaning close.

  For the first time since her acquaintance with the prince, perhaps for the first time ever, she felt aware and nervous of Callan’s close proximity. She, who embraced exchanges of affection, was nervous!

  Yes, she finally wrote.

  “Thank you. I fear you will find me high-handed, but I already had a dress ordered for you. You, Cagney, Dooley, and I are to go claim it from Easky tomorrow afternoon,” Callan said, tucking a strand of her bouncy hair behind her ears.

  You didn’t need to, she started to write, but Callan laid his hand on top of the slate.

  “I wanted to,” he said, smiling at her.

  Dylan returned the gesture, feeling a little giddy.

  “Now, we can go in. I imagine your stomach will soon be growling,” Callan said, picking up the basket of shrimp with surprise. “Even if you didn’t finish your snack.”

  Dylan picked up the basket of rolls and brushed her dress off. When Callan held out his hand, she hesitated for a moment. He’s not mine, and I belong to the sea, Dylan reminded herself. Even so, she reached out and took Callan’s hand and let the prince lead her back to the castle.

  Chapter 12

  The Summer Ball

  “I thought we could look in at our dresses, observe their styles, and then search for proper hair ornaments. You must put your hair up for a ball, Dylan. It is not optional.” Cagney studied her list as Dylan ate a fried fish her friend had bought her. “That way, we won’t have to haul our dresses around.”

  Dylan nodded and picked a bone sliver out of her fish.

  “And while we’re in the area, we can check on the price of baskets and barrels,” the trade-minded lady said.

  Sure, Dylan agreed, sitting on the lip of the fountain in Easky. Cagney?

  “Yes?”

  Dylan scratched the side of her head with her free hand, getting chalk powder in her hair. She had been thinking for a while that her search methods for information on Jarlath were faulty. She didn’t know if it was because she didn’t think like a human—much less an idiot like Jarlath—or if it was because her methods were wrong. But Dylan couldn’t afford to wait any longer. She wouldn’t ask for help outright, but she needed advice.

  Dylan slipped off the fountain lip and threw away the skewer her grilled fish had been impaled on. She tried to judge the distance between Cagney and Bump and Lump. The pair was standing far back, watching the villagers, and they continued to puzzle her.

  If Dylan didn’t know any better, she would think they were watching for that pickpocket. But no, they were here to make sure she didn’t betray Jarlath. Thankfully, though, they were far enough away that they wouldn’t hear much—if anything—Cagney said over the din of village life. If you were a visiting lord at the Summer Palace, where would you store your important possessions? Dylan finally wrote.

  “Like jewels?” Cagney asked as they meandered towards the seamstress’s shop.

  Yes.

  “There is a vault in the Summer Palace, but most don’t bother to store their valuables there, unless it is a gift for the king or queen or something. Some bring their own strong boxes—trunks with locks on them—to store their valuables. Many, though, do nothing. It is the Summer Palace. It is well guarded, and the royal servants are trustworthy. They leave their things in their room with the door locked.”

  Dylan frowned. That didn’t help her at all. Jarlath didn’t keep his things out in the open. Before she was able to inquire further, Cagney opened the door to the shop and stepped inside.

  The seamstress smiled. “I was wondering when you two would arrive. They’re all ready,” she said, drawing a curtain away from a corner of her store, revealing two dresses displayed on stands.

  Instantly, Dylan knew which dress was hers.

  It had a square neckline, and its sleeves were thin and wispy, layered like waves and cutting off just below the shoulder. It was lighter and more liquid than Cagney’s dress, and best of all, it was made with sea-glass green-blue silk. Gold embroidery trimmed the neckline and the hem of the dress, as well as the layered skirts. A thin belt made with gold links and polished sea glass hung from the waist, and there was a gold necklace from which a rock of sea glass, cut to resemble a flower, hung.

  Dylan reverently reached out and touched her dress, awed and touched by the details that had gone into the gown.

  “They’re beautiful,” Cagney said, turning to the seamstress. The beautiful blue brocade of her dress matched Cagney’s eyes. It was in Loire style, and it possessed wider skirts than she usually wore. It was trimmed with white lace and had pearls sewn into the skirts.

  “The men were very particular about how they wanted the dresses to look.” The seamstress chuckled.

  “Can we return for them? We would like to keep shopping a bit.”

  “Of course! Enjoy your time, ladies. When the ball comes, you will be the most beautiful girls there!” Cagney thanked the seamstress again and pulled Dylan out of the store.

  “Once again Dooley went above what the situation calls for. I think he spends more on clothes for me than I’m actually paid,” Cagney grumbled.

  But it is a beautiful dress, Dylan wrote.

  “It is. I think I can use the pearl hair pins Dooley bought me,” Cagney decided.

  Oh? So you kept them? Dylan wrote.

  Cagney ignored the question. “It’s too bad those bandits took the earrings.”

  You could always ask for a new pair. I’m certain Dooley would happily oblige you.

  Cagney didn’t seem to read Dylan’s slate, but Dylan didn’t miss the way a muscle in her cheek twitched “But I think we could get a nice pair of gold combs for you. Callan gave me money before we left, so we needn’t worry about cost.”

  Why didn’t he and Dooley come with us anyway? When he told me about the dress, he said the
y would be coming, Dylan wrote.

  “Yes. Well, Dooley didn’t finish his work on time, so I banished him from coming.”

  And Callan?

  “As the eldest prince, being that he is young and somewhat eligible, Callan shouldn’t be seen escorting two women around in Easky without another male.”

  Really? He has been alone with me multiple times in the palace.

  “Yes, but in public it is different. He has a reputation to uphold.”

  I don’t get it.

  “The base explanation is Callan couldn’t come. But believe me. He wanted to be here, and he is not happy with Lord Dooley for failing to finish his work.”

  Dooley winced from the safety of his desk. Even though Callan’s back was to him, he could see the black cloud of anger mounding around the prince with every movement.

  “I imagine the girls have seen their dresses by now,” Dooley said, looking down at the paperwork Cagney wanted him to finish. “I hope the pearl of my heart likes her dress. I don’t see how your ocean flower could fail to love hers.”

  ZING!

  Dooley jumped when Callan tossed a dagger backwards without turning to look, and it embedded itself in the wall a foot from Dooley’s head.

  Dooley sank lower in his chair to make himself a smaller target and wisely silenced himself.

  As Dylan and Cagney searched for appropriate hair accessories, Dylan renewed the previous line of conversation. Where would an idiot store his important possessions in the Summer Palace? she wrote.

  Cagney released a short bark of laughter at Dylan’s question before guiltily looking around. “It’s hard to predict where a person would stow valuables. I would say try to think about that person. Where do they feel safest? Where do they usually put the things they treasure? Sometimes people don’t bring valuables with them on trips.”

  Dylan stopped cold.

  She was right. Jarlath was a true idiot, and he hadn’t expected to stay in the Summer Palace for weeks. Seeing how obsessed he was with magic, chances were he stored her pelt in his treasury before they left. It would fit his personality. Who else would capture a kelpie and store it underground?

  But what about proof of his banditry? He had to be organizing the bandits, or at least outfitting them. They had been gone for well over a month. The bandits would have needed supplies well before now. Someone must have brought reports and lists to Jarlath. But where would he keep that information?

  Cagney stopped at an outdoor stall and looked over several jeweled combs. “Hold still,” she told Dylan, turning her so she could hold the combs against Dylan’s hair. “These might match, but they are studded with emeralds. It would be better if we could find something with sea glass on it, but sea glass isn’t usually paired with gold—since it’s a common stone. Callan had your belt and necklace specially made,” Cagney explained, towing Dylan to the next stand.

  How many lords and ladies have brought guards to the Summer Palace? Dylan asked. She turned around to consider Bump and Lump.

  “A few. Usually they just bring a dozen soldiers to act as an armed escort. But with all the banditry, quite a few of the trading lords brought personal guards who stay with them in the palace,” Cagney said, eyeing an ivory comb.

  Dylan nodded and watched her large, intimidating guards. They were still farther behind her than usual. Lump—the big guard—watched Dylan, but Bump was glaring at anyone who tarried too long near them.

  Cagney said I should think about what Jarlath does with the things he treasures. He puts them in a dungeon in the ground. But he can’t do that with papers—just like he can’t do that with me at the Summer Palace. Instead he assigned me guards who cling like barnacles. Could it be…all his important papers are with other personal guards? Many more men than Bump and Lump had ridden with them to the Summer Palace, and they hadn’t left…but she hadn’t seen them with Jarlath either.

  “This is it,” Cagney said. “These would be perfect, if only they were gold.” She held up two bronze combs, the tops of which had stones of sea glass polished and arranged in patterns.

  Wouldn’t the bronze blend in with my hair? Dylan asked.

  “Perhaps. Let’s see,” Cagney brushed Dylan’s hair to the side and slid a comb in to push the hair back. “You’re right. The bronze of the combs matches your…er…lighter top layers. You can’t see the combs, just the sea glass.”

  My sun-bleached hair does look orangey-bronze, Dylan acknowledged for Cagney’s embarrassment.

  “It looks marvelous; we’ll purchase all four of them. That will give you plenty to work with,” Cagney decided. She slid her coin purse off her belt and made the purchase from the grateful vendor. “I believe we are both set for tomorrow’s ball. What next?”

  Barrel prices? Dylan suggested.

  Cagney flashed Dylan a wide smile. “Thank you. I’ll buy you a donut to keep you occupied.”

  A what?

  “A donut—a fried pastry? Good lord, we must get you one immediately. Come along.” Dylan trailed after her shorter friend, glancing over her shoulder at Bump and Lump. They so easily blended in, she often forgot they were there. Perhaps Jarlath wasn’t so witless after all. It would explain how he managed to mastermind his banditry ring. He hired professionals.

  Dylan nudged her hair comb, checking it was secure. Cagney had arrived—dressed for the ball—and finished her hair not five minutes ago. She used the combs to push Dylan’s hair away from her face and secure it at the back of her head, letting it spill down her back. A few shorter, kinked curls framed her face. Dylan thought the hairstyle was pretty, but she was awed the way Cagney had piled her own beautiful hair on the top of her head and secured it with her pearl pins.

  Dooley is going to die of happiness, Dylan thought as she studied her reflection and smiled at her dress, necklace, and belt. Not only is Cagney wearing the things he gave her, but he tricked her into letting him escort her.

  Dylan’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock at her door. Dylan took one last glance in the mirror, grabbed her slate, and opened her door.

  Callan wore a white waistcoat and pants with black boots and a black vest. When he saw Dylan, his smile was small, but the warmth in his eyes made her want to shrink. She didn’t deserve to be looked at like that, not when she was failing so badly with her mission to stop Jarlath and the sea witch. But I’m smart enough to know this can’t last, and selfish enough to accept it anyway. Tonight, I’m going to enjoy myself with my friends. Dylan smiled as she stepped out of the room and curtsied.

  “You look beautiful, Dylan,” Callan said as he took her hand.

  Dylan squeezed his hand in response and together the pair—with Bump and Lump shadowing them—walked hand in hand to the main wing of the palace.

  The palace was open in all of its splendor. The first ball she’d attended had been glorious, but it was simple compared to this. As they walked, Dylan saw that, in three different patios attached to the ballroom, there were little tide pools the size of her bed. Each sandy-bottomed pool served as a mini habitat. Brightly colored fish the size of Dylan’s hand darted around crabs, starfish, sea urchins, barnacles, and more. Beautiful shells were arranged to shine in the light from the torches mounded around the tide pools, and the marble steps that formed the walls of the pool were covered with emerald cushions with saffron accents so guests could sit down and look in.

  Trained sea birds—seagulls, white tailed tropicbirds, gannets, petrels, and even an albatross—were perched on gold stands and in golden cages. Guests were allowed to remove the birds from their perches and fly them outside. The birds’ trainers—on hand with buckets of little fish—would whistle, calling the birds back to their side.

  Half the guests had arrived by the time Dylan and Prince Callan finished exploring.

  Jarlath was there—along with his two friends—working their way through the liquor choices. When he caught sight of Dylan and Callan he spat out his drink, spilling liquor down his waistcoat, and stared. Dylan—and Bump
and Lump so it seemed by his reaction—had neglected to tell Jarlath who was escorting her to the party.

  They sailed past Dylan’s shocked “guardian” and had time to wave to Lord Dooley and Cagney—Lord Dooley looked halfway decent for once, wearing a respectable black waistcoat and a vest in a bright shade of red—before Callan directed them to the marble dais where the royal family stood.

  “Good evening, Dylan. Have you seen the tide pools yet?” Prince Viggo asked with a grin.

  Dylan smiled widely.

  “I thought you would like those. Oop. Here comes mother,” Prince Viggo grimaced before straightening and holding out his arm to the young lady he was escorting. On Viggo’s other side were Princess Fianna and her escort—a young lord. Princess Fianna curtsied to Callan and Dylan. Her eyes swept over Dylan, but she said nothing. She had always been more reserved with the selkie than her siblings were, but since the bandit attack, she was prone to eye Dylan like she was a water horse.

  Several horns trumpeted, and King Rory and Queen Etain entered the ballroom, cutting the room in half as they walked towards the marble dais.

  All present bent over in bows and curtsies, making the room an ocean in the hypnotic wave of the mass movement. The royal siblings and their partners waited until the king and queen climbed the dais before performing their own bows and curtsies.

  King Rory nodded at his children and took up his position in the center of the dais, but the queen paused to greet her three oldest children. She embraced Fianna and said a kind word to her escort, kissed Viggo’s cheek, and smiled at his partner.

  “Callan, you look so handsome,” the queen said when she reached Callan and Dylan. She kissed his cheek before turning her attention to Dylan. “And Miss Dylan, you look lovely,” she said, her smile fond. “I owe you a great deal. Perhaps more than I thought,” she said, glancing at Viggo and Fianna. “Thank you for your bravery.”