Read The Little Selkie (retail) for Free Online

away. “They’ll stick to you like your seal skin. Make a single misstep, an’ they’ll tell me, ending your career as a seal shifter.”
    “Sea lion,” the bigger fellow grunted.
    “Whatever. Do we have an understanding?” Jarlath asked, folding his arms across his chest.
    Dylan kept her gaze locked on her pelt as she nodded.
    “Excellent. Get her out—the seamstress will show any minute. Keep an eye on her,” Jarlath said. He tossed her pelt over his shoulder and strode from the room.
    Dylan’s bigger guard fumbled with a key and then swung her door open. She pushed herself against the rock wall at the back of her cell as he and the shorter man took up posts by the treasury door. After a minute passed and they didn’t move, she crept from her jail like a cautious fish leaving a reef. If they’d let her explore, she’d make the most of it. She kept her eyes on her guards and slunk up and down the aisles formed between stacks of treasures.
    I need a weapon or a tool. Something I could use later. But how do I get it when they watch me like predators?
    When the guards moved again she froze. They opened the door to allow a thin, nervous-looking woman inside.
    The woman, at least a head shorter than Dylan, looked her over for a few minutes with wide eyes. She eventually started measuring her, wrapping a knotted rope around her waist, up and down her arms and legs, and around her chest.
    The seamstress came and went several times—returning with various fabrics—and took the big guard with her to carry things. The smaller guard remained behind. Whenever they were alone he tossed a dagger between his hands. His liquid, practiced gestures kept Dylan rooted to the ground where the seamstress had left her.
    When the seamstress was there she held bolts of fabrics against Dylan’s tall body, struggling to find one that had enough material. As the measuring dragged on, Dylan began to shed her caution, swapping it for anger with Jarlath.
    You beat magic by depriving it, do you? She curled her hands into fists and glared at her bare feet. You’ll never beat me. Though I love my sea lion body, I can survive without it. I will see this through. I will figure out what you and the sea witch are doing, and I will stop you .
    The door opened, and the seamstress stuck her head inside long enough to whisper to the short guard.
    He glanced at Dylan before he left the room, shutting the door behind him. Lest she get any ideas with both guards outside, there was a distinct thud as a latch settled in place over the door.
    Dylan lurched into motion, searching through the piles of trinkets that Jarlath deemed treasure. She made her way to the swords gleaming with magic. Was there a dagger nearby?
    She spotted two beneath the rim of a glimmering shield. The first dagger almost made her wretch. It was made of black metal and reeked of curses and black magic. Jarlath was an idiot for owning it, much less keeping it out in the open like this. Dylan used the shield to nudge it aside so she could snag the second.
    The dagger was dull, and she didn’t know how to sharpen it. While the selkies had weaponry, most of Dylan’s responsibilities in terms of fighting and protection hinged on her powerful water-channeling abilities. But a dull dagger is better than no dagger . She snatched up the unornamented weapon, scurried across the treasury room, and darted into her barred-off prison. Hiding the dagger under her cot, she prayed no one would search her little room for weapons.
    The seamstress and the guards weren’t back, so Dylan turned her vengeful eye on the dried-out water horse. Before she knew what she was doing, she picked up her bucket of fresh water and stalked across the treasury.
    The kelpie’s curdled-milk-eyes moved to focus on Dylan, although it did not lift its head. You are a twisted creature . But you are being held by a monster, and if you get a chance, I hope you snap his arm off .
    She didn’t give herself a moment to