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rethink her plan—knowing that if she did, she would talk herself out of it. Dylan tossed her bucket of water on the kelpie, splashing its face, neck, and side. She hugged the bucket to her chest and darted backwards.
    The kelpie didn’t move for several moments. Finally its ears lifted, and it blinked its sunken eyes as its skin soaked up the water like a sponge.
    Dylan heard a female voice outside the door, and she ran to place her bucket inside her cell. Then she lunged towards the spot she had stood when the short guard left. She had just enough time to fix her belt and toss her wild hair over her shoulder before the door swung open, and the seamstress and guards trooped inside.
    The kelpie acted no different the rest of the day, but Dylan wasn’t fooled. Water horses were cunning creatures.

    That evening, Dylan’s guards escorted her up to a bedroom in stony silence, evicting her from her cell in the treasury. She managed to smuggle her dagger up, carrying it in a blanket she insisted on holding. It was just as well she hadn’t carried it on her person, for the servants shoved Dylan into a lukewarm bath of suds and kept her there for what felt like hours.
    They finally let her out, only to hold her captive in her room, bored and famished, until the following day when the seamstress appeared with a dress and a looking glass.
    The seamstress bundled her into a new, clean shirt styled similarly to the one she already wore, although this one was much shorter, and the sleeves were long and droopy. The seamstress then stuffed her into a sleeveless gown that was a saffron color before placing the mirror in front of her. The finished look included a pair of black buckled shoes that made Dylan’s feet sweat and itch.
    She didn’t know much about human fashion, but she suspected the orange-yellow color was not very complimentary. Although it looked well enough on her bronzed, sun-kissed skin, it made her hair appear more coppery than normal. Her hair was dark brown but was sun-bleached, so the top layer of her hair was gold or (if one was being uncharitable) orange. Her hair, kinked in tight curls like dry seaweed, fell just below her shoulder blades in a wild mess. Dylan’s eyes—which were sea glass green with swirls of ocean blue—looked odd against the orange of her gown.
    She looked down at the seamstress and raised an eyebrow, but the woman didn’t notice and fussed with the fabric of the gown.
    Jarlath entered Dylan’s rooms a few minutes later. “Good enough,” he declared. “I’ll take another if you think you can finish it in time. A lady needs a change of clothes, eh?”
    “Yes, my lord,” the seamstress mewed as she bobbed in a curtsey.
    “What do you think, little fish? This time tomorrow we’ll be taking in the delights of the Summer Palace. You’ll be the talk of the town—with your exotic eyes and all,” Jarlath said, coming to stand next to her.
    He was several inches shorter than she was, highlighting her height even more than the seamstress’s petite body did.
    He’s an idiot, and he’s off his waves , Dylan decided as Jarlath held his belly and laughed. But I’m glad. I hope he is just as careless tomorrow.

Chapter 4
    Festivals and Food
     
    The carriage ride was…not fun. It didn’t make Dylan ill—she had a stomach of iron from swimming upside down and backwards and playing in the undercurrents of typhoons and storms—but the walls of the carriage seemed to close in, as if they were planning to crush her over course of the drive. It was too small of space with no fresh air.
    Jarlath, Dylan’s guards, and a number of other men surrounded the carriage on horseback. She didn’t envy their freedom. Being in a stuffy box was bad, but not so terrible that she would want to ride a creature that even slightly resembled a kelpie.
    How long will this go on? My teeth ache from all the rattling. Although it was fascinating to witness the green pastures and forests—for Dylan was used to