The Little Selkie (retail) by K. M. Shea Read Free Book Online

Jarlath’s back as he towed her along. He’s carrying a satchel , she realized, noticing the small bag tucked under his other arm. Could he have my pelt rolled up and stored there? King Murron’s crest—please let the man be that stupid .
    Dylan watched and waited for the perfect opportunity. When Jarlath stood on his tip-toes—inspecting the crowd—she let a buxom village woman bump into her. Dylan was flung into Jarlath’s back, nearly knocking him over.
    “Get off! You’re deuced clumsy, you know?” Jarlath complained. He was distracted enough that he didn’t notice when she tried pinching his flimsy case. The satchel gave.
    Not my pelt . Dylan felt paper documents crease through the worn fabric. Disappointment knifed through her just as hunger gnawed in her stomach as the zing of sweet-spiced meats and the lip-smacking aroma of cooked oysters teased her nose. I hate being on land , she decided.
    “Jarlath! You’ve dragged yourself here, have you?” a ruddy-faced man shouted above the celebration. “How’s Kingsgrace? Hallo—who is this?” He staggered up to Jarlath and Dylan with the gait of someone already deep in his cup.
    “Hallo, Doyle. She’s the latest addition to my collection. What do you think?” Jarlath grinned.
    “She’s deuced tall,” the man said, sagging his head back on his neck to look up at Dylan. “What have you fed her to make her like the Chronos Mountains—I’ll be jiggered!” He staggered another step backwards. “Coy, I ain’t never seen eyes like that. Where’d you dig her up?”
    “It was a troublesome effort, but I believe the extension of my collection is worth it,” Jarlath said, his voice smug.
    You did nothing, you red-faced-lubber . Dylan rolled her eyes.
    “Kingsgrace! Didn’t think you’d come—I thought the royals snubbed you at the Frost Ball.” Another man—this one built like a slender sardine—yelled as he popped out of the crowd. He whistled when he got a look at Dylan. “Hallo there, darlin ’!”
    “Eyes off my goods, Teige. This one ain’t passing through your harbor,” Jarlath growled, although his lips formed a pleased smirk. “She’s a sight, ain’t she?”
    “She’s something ,” the sardine fellow said, gawking at her face.
    Dylan didn’t understand what the men were fussing over. Yes, she looked different from normal humans. She was markedly taller, and her eyes were an unusual color, but who cared? It was like comparing spots on a selkie seal pelt. Each seal had its own pattern, so what did the spot arrangement matter? It must be a lander trait, Dylan thought. A rude lander trait. They keep staring at me like a fisherman gawks at his prized catch .
    “Doyle, be a good man and take this,” Jarlath said, passing his cloth valise off to his ruddy-faced friend.
    “Oh, is this the list of goods—”
    “Shhh, yes. But we’ll not talk of it here,” Jarlath said.
    “Not with the royal shadow on us,” the sardine fellow said, glancing over his shoulder to sniff at the Summer Palace.
    “Right. But we can toast to our success, can’t we?”
    Jarlath grinned. “Aye, we can.” He released Dylan so he could pick up a mug of ale in each meaty fist. “Don’t wander too far, little fish. Oisin and Morri are trailin’ you,” Jarlath said. He tossed back a drink and turned back to his friends.
    “So does this gem of yours talk?” sardine man asked Jarlath as he pointed to Dylan.
    Freed, she was torn between giving into her growling stomach, or trying to give her guards the slip and flee to the ocean. I should seek out the ocean, but… Dylan’s stomach twisted painfully and growled.
    “Nope, she’s as silent as a mute,” Jarlath said. “Best kind of woman.”
    “Better than those rowdy bandits,” the ruddy-faced man said. “They keep trashin’ my ship even after I talked to them.”
    “For the love of—won’t you learn? Keep it down, fool!” Jarlath snarled.
    When Dylan’s stomach rumbled so loudly with hunger