The Little Selkie (retail)

by K. M. Shea

  Dylan offered the queen a curtsey. If only you knew, she thought, but was touched by the queen’s kind attention.

  The queen squeezed Dylan’s free hand before moving on to join her husband.

  “Thank you for attending the annual Ringsted Summer Ball,” King Rory said, his voice booming in the silence. “It is with great joy that we mark our summer season, and we take pleasure in the bounty and growth the summer provides.

  “As is custom,” the king continued, “the ball will be opened by my royal children—Prince Callan, Princess Fianna, and Prince Viggo—and their partners. Thank you, and enjoy yourselves.”

  Dylan turned to look at Callan with raised eyebrows. He hadn’t mentioned anything about “opening” the ball.

  Catching her look, Callan gave her a teasing smile. “I didn’t tell you because I wanted it to be a surprise. We can dance anyway you choose. You’ll enjoy it,” he said, starting down the stairs. When Callan tugged on her hand, Dylan followed. Princess Fianna and her escort, and then Viggo and his partner, followed behind them.

  The empty dance floor waited. Only the royal siblings and their partners stood in the middle of the immense space.

  Dylan eagerly shifted her weight as the musicians—two flute players, three violinists, and what Dylan now knew to be a mandolin player and a harpist—eased into a slow song.

  Fianna and Viggo started to dance with their partners, Dylan waited for Callan to lead, but he didn’t move his feet.

  Callan kept his hand in hers and placed his other hand on his waist before leaning in to whisper, “Dance as if you were going to dance for me. I’ll keep up,” he promised.

  Dylan thought for a moment before she nodded. She waited to get a feel for the music before leading Callan forward.

  Viggo and his partner danced in a slow box, repeating the few steps over and over. Fianna and her escort moved a little more, but they stayed together, slowly turning in a circle.

  Dylan and Callan, however, crossed from one side of the dance floor to the other. Callan would twirl her, and Dylan would twist away from him before drawing near again, like waves to the shore. They twined through the dance floor, sometimes facing each other before Dylan would duck under Callan’s arm, then they would move side by side before Dylan twirled around Callan.

  Once or twice, Callan shocked Dylan by sliding her down in a dip, but he always managed to pop her upright again.

  Viggo and his partner had all but stopped dancing. Instead they watched Callan and Dylan glide by like swans landing in water. Fianna kept going with her partner, but Dylan saw the reserved princess flash her older brother a smile once or twice.

  When the song finished, Callan raised Dylan’s hand in his own before bending over in a bow, tugging Dylan into a curtsey. His siblings mirrored him, and all three couples quit the dance floor as swiftly as possible while the guests clapped.

  “That was terrifying,” Viggo cheerfully said as their parents joined them on the main floor.

  “You did well, children,” King Rory said, his posture stiff from nerves. Now that the royal children had danced, a new song began and couples flooded the dance floor. “No accidents. Always a plus.”

  “You all looked lovely,” Queen Etain said. “Enjoy yourselves, but remember your duty as royalty,” she warned.

  “Yes, Mother,” her children chorused before slipping into the crowd.

  Callan and Dylan turned to go, but before they could slip away, Queen Etain called after them.

  “Callan, Miss Dylan, if I may have a moment?”

  Dylan turned back to face the queen, Callan with her.

  “If you don’t mind my asking, Miss Dylan, where did you learn to dance like that?” Queen Etain asked.

  My family, Dylan wrote.

  Queen Etain tilted her head and studied Dylan. “I see.”

  Why do you ask? Dylan wrote.

  “It was quite beautiful, but it’s not the sort of dance that normally graces these halls. I have seen a similar dance, twice before I married the king,” she said, glancing at her anxious husband.

  Where did you see it? Dylan asked.

  “A small coastal village, near my family’s holding,” Queen Etain said.

  Dylan stared at the queen. Did the queen know about selkies? Occasionally, they slipped into human celebrations, but only if they really liked the people. No wonder King Rory married you. You must come from a tremendous and honorable family, Dylan thought, a surge of affection for the motherly queen rushing her heart.

  “Is that all, Mother?” Callan asked.

  “Yes. Enjoy yourselves,” the queen said.

  “Of course,” Callan said.

  Can we find Cagney and Dooley? Dylan asked.

  “Yes, although I am sorry to say that since you are my partner, you must circulate the party with me and dance with a number of lords and government officials,” Callan warned her.

  I’ll find a way to make it worthwhile, Dylan promised, and she did. To her sorrow, she wasn’t able to chat much with Cagney and Dooley before dinner. Too many men kept asking her to dance or tried to speak with her whenever Callan was dancing with a lady. However, Dylan learned that she could lead the men to the tables of food, allowing her to stuff her face and glean information from previously untapped sources.

  She asked the older lords if they had been affected by the banditry and the younger men if they had witnessed any of the heists. She spoke with the ladies, inquired who belonged to families that were in the businesses of trade, and kept a watchful eye on Lady Kallah—although the snotty girl and her friends kept to the far side of the ballroom and did not once look in her direction.

  Dylan received varying answers to her questions—none that illuminated Jarlath’s banditry practices—but she enjoyed herself, although she thought her sudden surge of popularity a little odd.

  Is it because Prince Callan is my escort? It makes sense, I suppose. He is their future ruler—although it is unnerving they are so quick to change their mind.

  Dylan shook her head to clear the concerns from her mind and refocused on her conversation partners.

  “The price of tea and spices is the highest it has been in a century,” Lord Padriac said.

  Lady Cayleen of Fowl Feather Merchants & Sons & Daughter—one of Cagney’s business idols—raised a hand to smooth her gray hair. “Indeed,” she sniffed. “And the varieties have become terribly limited.”

  “Can’t be helped,” Lord Padriac said, twisting his wedding ring on his finger. “All of us merchants are selling stock straight from our storehouses now—no new goods are entering or leaving Ringsted.”

  If no new goods are popping up, Jarlath is definitely selling his stolen merchandise elsewhere. Dylan tilted her head as she pondered the matter before she wrote, No one suspects there is something greater at work, and that is why the storms brew up and down the coast?

  Lord Padriac shifted uncomfortably. “Well…”

  “Spit it out, lad,” Lady Cayleen said.

  “Rumor has it that black magic is at play.”

  Are they finally catching on? Dylan perked with interest and nodded to encourage the young lord.

  “Before the ports and harbors closed, I heard stories of royalty being cursed, enchanters being taken captive—nothing good. And it seems that each country has been plagued by its own brand of trouble—like the goblins in Erlauf.”

  “Or the witch queen in Arcainia—before she was slain. Oh yes, I heard it, too,” Lady Cayleen said when Dylan and Lord Padriac stared at her. “What you mean to say, young man, is that these storms may very well be how darkness has struck Ringsted.”

  Lord Padriac slid his hands inside the pockets of his waistcoat. “Aye.”

  “May the seas help us,” Lady Cayleen murmured.

  “Or not,” Jarlath said.

  Dylan rolled her eyes as he stepped into their circle. How can one man be so annoying?

  “Hallo, Padriac, Lady Cayleen,” Jarlath said.

  Lord P
adriac bowed shallowly. “If you’ll excuse me, I should go find my wife. I expect the dinner will start soon,” he said, his voice cool and stiff.

  “I’ll go with you, lad,” Lady Cayleen said, sniffing at Jarlath before following the young lord.

  Well, the high esteem afforded to me certainly does not extend to Jarlath. Hah! Dylan thought as she watched the pair ease away from them.

  Jarlath watched them go, a sneer budding on his lips, before he grabbed Dylan by the arm and yanked her closer. “So, thought I wouldn’t notice when you arrived with the crown prince?”

  Dylan stared at Jarlath. After all these weeks of inactivity, tonight is the night he finally deigns to take notice of my actions?

  “Pay attention, little fish, because your fairy tale is about to end. You’re a selkie who can’t sing or swim. Your two most useful traits, your only useful traits, are gone. If you don’t do what serves me well, I’ll slice your pelt to shreds,” Jarlath spat. “And when I tire of the Summer Palace, we will return to Kingsgrace Castle and you will never again see the light of day.”

  Instead of making her feel small and helpless—as he surely meant to—Dylan could feel her fury build. How dare he! He thinks because I’m on land I am no match for him? Forget my pelt—I will bear myself with pride when I incapacitate this sea worm. Dylan glared and considered smacking the lord in the head with her slate.

  “Lord Jarlath,” Prince Callan said, his voice icy. “I see you finally separated yourself from your friends long enough to greet your ward. How kind of you.”

  “Prince Callan, how good it is to see you.” Jarlath’s voice oozed with charm as he turned to the unhappy prince. “I was just telling Dylan how lucky she is that you chose her as your partner tonight.”

  Callan laughed. “I believe you have incorrectly interpreted the situation, Lord Jarlath. I am the lucky one.” He moved closer to Dylan.

  She pursed her lips, although she didn’t move away. I’m thankful you arrived, but I could have handled this myself, she thought, eyeing the handsome prince. I am not a dewdrop damsel waiting to be saved.

  “If you say so, Your Highness,” Jarlath said. “I am so glad my ward has found favor with you.”

  “What a surprise,” Callan said. “You certainly did not appear to be glad when you were speaking to her just now.”

  “I was merely warning her to mind her manners—she was practically raised by animals, you know,” Jarlath said.

  Dylan drew her shoulders back and took a step towards Jarlath, glaring at him with fury. Why you scum! Throw him in the brig.

  “I have often thought it is remarkable how elegant and well-mannered she is, considering who is charged with her care,” Callan said.

  Yes! That’s a hit for Callan!

  Jarlath’s toothy smile was replaced with a dark scowl. “What?”

  “Lord Jarlath, what a pleasure it is to see you!” Dooley said, sliding into the conversation with easy manners and a calm smile.

  “Quite so,” Cagney added, smacking into Dooley when she didn’t stop fast enough. The pair breathed heavily, and their clothes were a little askew. They had probably pushed and elbowed their way through the ballroom to arrive.

  “This is why I love a good ball—it gives a man a chance to socialize,” Dooley said as he tried to adjust one of Cagney’s mussed sleeves. Cagney smacked his hand away. “Ouch.”

  “Balls are also excellent business opportunities—stop that,” Cagney hissed, trying to push Dooley away from her. “By which, I mean to say they allow a person to make good connections.”

  Jarlath stared at the pair, utterly lost. Dylan, however, smiled widely at her friends to show her appreciation. Thank you, she wrote.

  Prince Callan laughed. “Of course, you are both right. If you will excuse us, Lord Jarlath, I believe the dinner is about to start. I hope you enjoy yourself.”

  “Yes, of course,” Jarlath said. He shrugged before returning to his almost-groveling manners and bowed. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

  Prince Callan inclined his head. “Of course,” he echoed, offering his arm.

  Dylan took it—if only to get away from Jarlath. Cagney and Dooley followed, relief flashing across their faces.

  That was a well-timed entrance, she wrote when they stopped just outside the doors to the dining hall.

  “I do pride myself on my entrances—and my fashion,” Dooley said.

  Cagney’s eyebrow twitched with irritation. “I wish you wouldn’t.”

  “You seem to be doing well for yourself—before Jarlath’s arrival anyway,” Callan said to Dylan. “I worried about separating you from Dooley and Cagney—although we’re sitting next to them for dinner.”

  I enjoyed speaking to the nobles, she wrote. She was surprised when she realized her words were true. The people she met this evening were kind and affable—which contrasted sharply with Jarlath, Lady Aisling, and Lady Kellah.

  “Ocean flower, do you have so little loyalty that any handsome face will move you? Are Cagney and I no longer your bosom friends?” Dooley asked.

  “Lord Dooley. Princess Nessa acts with more maturity than you do,” Cagney said, her upper lip curling in disgust.

  “How you wound me, gem of my desire. I see how it is. Both of you are on the up and coming.

  “I see Mother and Father are in place—we better join them, Dylan, mother wants us to enter as a family. Dooley, Cagney—we’ll see you in just a moment at our seats.”

  “Of course, Your Highness,” Cagney curtsied.

  Dooley winked—all signs of his tragic enactment gone. “Enjoy. We’ll see you soon, Cal, Miss Dylan.”

  Callan raised a hand in acknowledgement and led Dylan towards his parents. Although the ballroom was crowded, a path opened up in front of them, and Callan wore his false smile and acknowledged murmured greetings with a nod.

  Dylan caught Lady Aisling’s gaze, and the beautiful blonde looked away, her lips pressed tight in anger.

  “Is everything alright?” Callan asked when they reached his parents.

  Dylan shrugged at Lady Aisling and her petty antics before she smiled at the prince. I’m fine. I was just thinking Dooley and Cagney care deeply for you, she wrote.

  “They care quite a bit for you as well,” Callan said, taking Dylan’s hand off his arm so he could clasp it.

  Before she could respond, Queen Etain approached them. “Are you two ready? Good. We’re all here, let us open the dinner.”

  The doors to the dining hall were opened, and King Rory and Queen Etain swept inside, followed by Callan and Dylan. Callan led them to their spots. They were at the head of one table, with Viggo and his partner seated across from them.

  “We meet again,” Dooley said, wriggling his eyebrows when he and Cagney rejoined them at their table.

  “That reminds me. Dooley, I’m afraid I didn’t see your entrance in the bustle,” Callan said. “What did you do?”

  “It was a tame entrance—my pearl wouldn’t come with me if I overdid it.”

  “You still overdid it,” Cagney scowled. “You made us ride up to the main palace in a cart shaped like a clamshell that was pulled by two white miniature horses.”

  “That is because you were to be the pearl of the clamshell. You see? Because you are the pearl of my heart.”

  The look Cagney gave him was murderous.

  It’s a shame the marina opening is over, Dylan wrote. You could have arrived in a boat pulled by a whale.

  Dooley lit up. “That is a stupendous idea.”

  “It’s terrible. Whales are not domesticated. There’s no way for you to train a whale to pull a boat. Dooley, are you listening?” Cagney’s face was white with panic.

  Dylan grinned and almost started to write out an offer to get Dooley matched up with a whale—she could communicate with them and ask for their help—before she remembered herself and set her chalk aside.

  Dinner was over all too soon. Dylan loved every course, and even she was stuffed. In fact, she felt
so full she couldn’t have eaten so much as another strawberry. After dinner, there was more dancing—Dooley and Callan danced with her, as did Lord Padriac, Prince Viggo, and even King Rory.

  Jarlath never approached her again, and Lady Aisling, Lady Kellah, and their friends stuck to giving Dylan the occasional sour look. It was a perfect night—one free of guards and, even more rare, free of worries.

  After all the exercise and the heat of the room, Dylan was almost lightheaded, so she navigated her way outside and gratefully sucked in the cool night air, accented with the salty scent of the ocean.

  The particular patio she chose was mostly empty. A few younger women gossiped in one corner, glancing at her with disdain every so often, but that was all. She stood at the railing, watching the moonlight play on the ocean as the sea breeze cooled her off.

  She felt almost refreshed enough to return indoors when Lady Aisling found her.

  “Miss Dylan, what a pleasant surprise,” Lady Aisling said, her hair glowing in the moonlight. Behind her, Dylan could see Lady Kellah, Lady Darra, and some of their other friends.

  Dylan made the only noise she could muster—a loud, blasé exhale. These girls act more like predators than some sharks I’ve seen. She raised an eyebrow at the lady and tilted her chin up.

  “So, you got your way. Prince Callan has escorted not me—as he should—but you, the local beggar girl,” Lady Aisling said, her lovely brown eyes narrowed into slits.

  “You may think you’ve won, but no one from the royal family would stand to be connected to Lord Jarlath of Kingsgrace Castle—no matter how distant the connection may be,” Lady Aisling continued. “The only reason the queen is allowing this dalliance to continue is because you saved Princess Nessa. I said it before, but mark my words: as soon as you are gone, Callan will forget all about you.”

  Dylan couldn’t help the grin that twitched across her face. If Aisling thought she still stood a chance when Dylan returned to the sea, she was in for an awkward surprise. Sooner or later, Callan would make his move on that girl from the search party. He told Dylan himself that he loved her. Poor, poor Aisling. She didn’t even know how far out of the running she was.