Read The Little Selkie (retail) for Free Online Page B

a world bathed in blue—the traveling wore on her. She would have sung with joy if she could have when Jarlath spurred his prancing mare closer to the carriage.
    “There it is, little fish,” he said, as they left the thinning forest.  “The Summer Palace.”
    Dylan poked her head out of the carriage and squinted in the brilliant sunlight to catch a glimpse of the location where she would—hopefully—steal her pelt back from Jarlath.
    The Summer Palace was nothing like Jarlath’s castle or the structures sketched out in Mairead’s books. It sprawled over steep hills, stretching in three separate directions. The main section of the palace rested atop the highest point of the hill, where it could bask in the sun all day long. Four towers marked the four compass points around it, tall and thin, like sea urchin spines. A smaller section was nestled on a beach, perched behind a sea wall, and a larger section was built on cliffs that overlooked an impressive marina.
    Dylan almost bolted.
    Not because the beauty of the palace, but because of the ocean—which stretched across the horizon like a field of aquamarine.
    I’m so close! Maybe I could steal away and test the water—someone might recognize me! I could call for help…oh. No, I can’t .
    “It is beautiful,” Jarlath said, wrongly misinterpreting Dylan’s slumped shoulders and sigh of longing. “Don’t suppose you’ve ever seen anything half as costly before.”
    I have , Dylan thought as the ocean was obscured by a hill. And I gave up my voice to protect it.
    Serenaded by the faint crashing of waves, Dylan sagged against the carriage wall as Jarlath and his men led the way into a pleasant village picturesquely arranged in front of the Summer Palace. A large wall divided the village from the palace, but she didn’t think she would have any problems scaling it.
    As such, when the carriage rolled to a stop outside a house-like building made of rock, Dylan flung the carriage door open and sprinted in the direction of the wall.
    The troll-sized man of her bodyguard duo was off his mount and waiting for her. He let her crash into him and applied an arm to her sternum, knocking all air out of her.
    “Morri? Is everything alright?” Jarlath peered around the carriage with a scowl.
    “Right as rain,” the bodyguard rumbled as Dylan tried to suck air back into her lungs.
    Tomorrow morning—before anyone rises. I will see you, my friend , Dylan thought while her guard dragged her past whitewashed shops and flapping Ringsted flags, as if the ocean could hear her.
    “We’re staying here, at the Owl’s Hoot,” Jarlath said, shielding his face from saffron and emerald ribbons that were tied to poles and slapped the air. He pointed to what passed as a lander inn.
    Dylan gave the structure a quick glance. She was more interested in watching what Jarlath’s men did with the leather valise that had been strapped to his mare’s rump for the ride.
    “The festival started—what luck! I’ll make a big splash when I arrive with you at my tail. Move on,” Jarlath said. He grabbed one of Dylan’s wrists and yanked her through the village and into a cloud of noise, making her lose sight of his valise.
    People lined the village streets like clams on the ocean floor. They laughed, shouted, and clapped in beat with the music. Many were ringed around a crowded dance floor—polished wood raised a few inches above the cobblestone courtyard.
    The musicians played unfamiliar instruments—although she did recognize the flute and violin because of drawings she had seen in books—and the movements of the dances were utterly foreign. The dancers kept their bodies straight and barely moved their arms, tapping the floor and kicking their heels in swift, crisp waves.
    Fascinating. Dylan watched the dancers as they formed two lines and ducked together. Selkie dances were much more smooth and liquid, not so…bouncy.
    She skirted a child waving a sword in the air and eyed