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

square—one couple on each side—and started dancing. Her movements were a little sluggish as she noted the way the dancers tapped the ground. Their hops were lower, and they didn’t kick like all the previous dances did, but the pattern was easier to follow because they moved their feet to a specific beat.
    Within a minute Dylan picked up the beat and let her partner lead her, turning her to face him when necessary. He led her forward when they danced in a circle like the spokes of a cart wheel.
    After they went through all the movements, she had the dance down and was able to start enjoying herself in spite of her troubles. It wasn’t anything like a traditional selkie dance, but selkies—naturally graceful— enjoyed all kinds of dance. Unable to stop herself, Dylan added twirls and flourishes whenever she could, silently laughing with joy when her fellow dancers picked up the speed of their tapping and hopping.
    The song ended before Dylan wanted it to. Her forehead was damp with sweat, but she grinned widely, filled with mirth. She bowed to her partner, hoping to convey her thanks before she hopped from the platform.
    The dancer followed her, and the two of them almost walked straight into Jarlath, sending her good spirits plummeting.
    “Your Highness, I see you have met my newest acquisition,” Jarlath said, his chest inflated like a puffer fish.
    “Acquisition, Lord Jarlath? Even you have better manners than that. I assume you meant to say you are her escort?” the dancer asked.
    Dylan smirked. Too bad he’s not a selkie friend. He’s fun.
    “Escort is a bit…she’s not a lady, Your Highness. Just my…ward,” Jarlath said.
    “Even so, could I bother you for an introduction?”
    “Ah, of course,” Jarlath said, looking uncomfortable for a minute. “Your Highness, please allow me to introduce you to my ward…Miss…um, I call her…”
    “Dylan,” Dylan’s big guard—the lump—grunted.
    This drew Dylan’s wonder. Only the sea witch had indicated any knowledge of Dylan since she was taken captive. How had the lump known? Did he actually pay attention—unlike his employer?
    “Yes, Miss Dylan,” Jarlath said, recovering with a smile. “Dylan, this is His Royal Highness, Prince Callan, the eldest prince of Ringsted.”
    The oldest prince? Maybe I have seen his face in a painting or something. No matter—he will be bossy Maureen’s concern when she takes Da’s place and becomes Queen of the Selkies .
    “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Dylan,” the prince said.
    Jarlath and the prince stared at Dylan, expecting her to do something. Behind the prince’s back, Jarlath mimicked a bow.
    Dylan bent deeply.
    “I apologize for her silence, Your Highness, but she is, uh, a mute,” Jarlath said.
    “Is she, now?” the dancing prince said, studying Dylan with intense scrutiny, making the gold in his eyes glitter. He broke his gaze from Dylan and turned to face Jarlath. “Were you intending to head home to Kingsgrace Castle?”
    “I hoped to spend the evening at the Owl’s Hoot and return on the morrow, Your Highness.”
    “I ask you to reconsider. We would love to have you at the palace for the opening season,” Prince Callan said.
    Reconsider? Dylan shifted, hope bubbling in her like a spring. The palace is just by the ocean—and Jarlath cannot possibly keep me cooped up there!
    Jarlath’s eyes almost popped out of his head. “Truly, Your Highness?”
    “Absolutely, both of you,” Prince Callan said. “I’ll send a servant up to the palace. They will prepare rooms for you. When you finish with the festivities here, please make your way up. The chamberlain will show you to your quarters.”
    “Thank you, Your Highness,” Jarlath said, bowing deeply. “I’m sure we will enjoy it!”
    Dylan nodded, for the first—and only—time, agreeing with her captor.
    “I am gladdened to hear that,” Prince Callan said with a smile.
    “Callan!” a young lady said, breathing