The Little Selkie (retail) (10 page)

Cagney’s eyes narrowed with rage.

“Both of you are coming to Mother’s dinner tonight, yes?” Callan asked.

“Your Highness, I apologize for my poor manners. Yes, we will be in attendance,” Cagney said. She moved to curtsey, but Callan waved her off.

“Do you want us to keep an eye on your budding ocean flower?” Dooley asked as he peeled himself off the cool balcony.

“If you wouldn’t mind. I look forward to seeing you then,” Callan said.

“As do we, Your Highness. Thank you. Now, if you would excuse us,” Cagney said.

“Of course. Enjoy your breakfast meeting,” Callan said.

Cagney gave Dooley an acidic look before striding from the room.

Dooley winced. “I had best go after her. If I don’t hurry, she’ll have me clothed in something halfway decent.”

“Good luck,” Callan said.

“Thank you, I shall need it. Until tonight?”

“Until tonight.”

Dylan’s dress and shoes made squishing sounds as she walked down the palace hall, still damp from her morning swim. She would have stayed out longer, but Lump—the “talker” of her two guards—ordered her “Inside” in a deep and forbidding voice.

Plus, Dylan’s stomach was rumbling, and if she wanted to visit the kitchens, she needed to be dressed in a dry gown.

Dylan squooshed her way down the hallway, pausing just outside of Jarlath’s room to stare at his door with a heavy heart.

The selkies weren’t moving up the coast—probably because of all the human activity at the Summer Palace. It was only natural. They had no reason to think she would be in the Summer Palace, and they would never risk accidentally revealing themselves with so many humans around. She would have to retrieve her pelt and face Jarlath and the sea witch alone. But she still didn’t understand how Jarlath was benefiting from the partnership with the sea witch.

First order of business, I must search for my pelt. Then, I must discover his secrets.
Nothing like the present. She found his door unlocked, so she threw it open.

Jarlath, having recovered from the festival, was up. He was fussing with his black waistcoat in front of a mirror. “Where have you—ew. You smell like a fish,” Jarlath said, wrinkling his nose. “Send your dress to be cleaned—we’ve been invited to tonight’s royal dinner and ball—the first of the season. You can’t go looking like a fisherman’s daughter.”

Dylan was not much impressed with Jarlath’s proclamation. She ignored him and peered around his room, taking inventory of possible hiding places.

Jarlath scowled at his reflection. “The green coat looks better,” he decided, removing his waistcoat and grabbing a different jacket. Based on the clothes strewn across his bed, he had been at this for some time.

When Dylan eyed his almost empty armoire, Jarlath realized she was still there. “I told you ’bout the invitation. Now scat! Go scrub yourself down until you don’t reek of sea water,” Jarlath said.

I’ll have to come back when he’s gone.
Dylan found it disappointing that the ruddy-faced lord no longer had a massive headache when she kicked his door shut.

She meandered across the hall to her own rooms. She was about to duck inside when Lump cleared his throat.

Dylan turned to look at her guards.

Bump exhaled a grunt and flipped a dagger in the air with the grace and confidence.

“Oisin says he’ll find a maid to bring you warm water,” Lump said in deep, baritone voice. “I’ll stay here. After you’re clean, gimme your dress. I’ll send it out to be cleaned.”

He’s very different—
they’re
very different—from Jarlath and the rest of his men,
Dylan thought. She nodded to show she understood before slipping into her room.
But they are still Jarlath’s toads. I do
not
smell. But…I will not put my pelt in danger over such a trifle. Tonight, I will wear my yellow gown. Again.

Chapter 7

Parties and Portraits

When the time for the party came, Dylan’s saffron dress was still a little damp, but she put it on anyway—even she knew enough not to wear her red gown two nights in a row. Jarlath stayed in his room all afternoon, and he made Dylan go with him to find his friends.
Thwarted again.

“Tonight will be tricky for you, little fish. You need to stay with me for a bit, but if I start talking with a gal, you best take yourself elsewhere. Wouldn’t do any good for them to think I’m with
you
,” Jarlath instructed as they walked the perimeter of the brightly lit ballroom.

Dylan ignored him, disappointed to see that the ball was pretty much a repeat of the marina opening. The attendees wore fancier clothing, the music was slower, and the dancing gliding, polished movements. Nothing seemed different—except the grand location, and Dylan felt there probably wouldn’t be any fireworks given the indoor setting.

“Lord Jarlath, I didn’t know you were here. I didn’t see you at the marina opening last night,” an older man said.

“I was sick,” Jarlath said.

“Ah, how unfortunate. But I do recall your companion. She’s very…eye-catching,” the man said, studying Dylan from head to toe.

“She’s exotic alright,” Jarlath said with a grin.

“Father, did you see Lady Darra? Her dress is
hideous
—oh, hello, Jarlath,” a petite young lady with orange-red hair said. “I haven’t seen you around in a while.” She glanced at Dylan.

Dylan took the opportunity to remove her hand from Jarlath’s arm.

“Ah, Lady Kellah, I was about to introduce my
ward
to your father,” Jarlath said. Behind his back he flapped his hand, motioning Dylan to leave.

What if he talks to his sardine friend and red-faced friend? They might be in on his plan with the sea witch. His company is as welcome as a sea slug’s, but I still haven’t figured out how he’s profiting from this!
Dylan stood her ground with no enthusiasm.

“Oh?” Lady Kellah said, her voice dubious.

“Indeed. I am caring for her while—” Jarlath said before launching into an elaborate lie about Dylan’s arrival into his life.

Dylan tapped her foot and watched Jarlath try to flirt with Lady Kellah. Jarlath was eager to get rid of her—he tried to discreetly kick at her, but Dylan just backed away a few paces.

When Jarlath waxed poetic for five minutes about Lady Kellah’s beauty, Dylan feared she might soon expire out of boredom.

Does he have no sense of responsibility? Why is he not seeking out his comrades? I am much ashamed I was caught by him
, Dylan thought, looking out at the crowd in her boredom. On the opposite side of the room, a flash of bright green caught her eye. A tall man who looked like a long strand of seaweed in his lush green waistcoat and trousers stood next to a young lady wearing a subdued, plum-colored gown.

Lord Dooley and Cagney
, Dylan thought. She glanced at Jarlath and wallowed in a moment of indecision.
I need to hunt out his plans, but this is so boring.

Across the room, Dooley said something, and Cagney cracked him in the face with her lace fan.

That’s it
.
I can always come back and follow Jarlath around when he’s done embarrassing himself.
She walked in the direction of the young lord and his assistant.

When Dylan drew close enough to the pair, she saw that Lord Dooley had gone the extra distance to make his outfit hideous and had procured boots in the same string-bean-green color as his clothes. His eyes lit up when Dylan reached them. “Miss Dylan—I thought you might attend tonight’s fun. How are you?”

I am well. You two?
Dylan wrote.

“We are fantastic. I love parties—although Cagney ruined my entrance on this one.” Dooley frowned.

“Being hauled into the party in a cart would not make you look noble, it would make you look like a foolish drunk who can’t keep his own feet under him,” Cagney frowned. “And at this early an hour.”

“That’s Cagney for you,” Dooley said. “She wants to make sure I look like a proper drunk and not a lightweight.”

“I said nothing of the sort,” Cagney snapped.

“But you did, my heart. You see straight into my soul,” Dooley said, taking Cagney’s hands and patting them.

Cagney ripped her hands out of Dooley’s grip and gave him a withering glare before she turned to Dylan. “Is your guardian with you tonight?”

Dylan nodded.

“Would you like to eat with us? Jarlath does not strike me as the most attentive of guardians; he may forget you in the excitement,” Cagney offered.

I HOPE he forgets me
, Dylan wrote with disgust.

“So you will break your bread with us?” Dooley asked with a kind smile. One of his brown curls hung in his face, accenting his handsome features.

Do they only serve bread at parties like this
? Dylan wrote, thinking she should have grabbed a snack at the kitchen before coming.

“No,” Dooley laughed. “It’s a full-course, sit-down dinner. I’ll go see someone about having you placed with us. It would be my pleasure to escort the two most beautiful ladies in the room to dinner,” Dooley said, dodging the blow Cagney meant to give him. “I will be but a moment, ladies—though my heart will pine for you, Cag—ow.” Dooley moved too slowly, so Cagney was able to smack his shoulder with her fan.

“Idiot,” Cagney muttered as the tall nobleman moved off. “A cow has more sense.”

He’s funny
, Dylan wrote.

“Do not tell him you think so—I beg of you! It will encourage him,” Cagney said, twisting her lace fan.

As you wish. Is there any food out, or do we have to wait until dinner?

Cagney read Dylan’s question before she shook her head. “There are some refreshments already available. This way, I believe.”

Dylan followed Cagney to a table of food. The snacks were not as plentiful as they had been the previous night, but Dylan was happy to have any at all. She had just taken a little plate and put a sampling of a few sausages on it, when someone said her name.

“Miss Dylan, is it? Not even any parents to cite—how pitiable.”

Dylan turned around to face Lady Kellah, the woman Jarlath had greeted—apparently it hadn’t turned out quite how he was hoping—and several other ladies.

Cagney shifted uneasily and looked back and forth between Dylan and Lady Kellah.

Dylan knew she was being baited, but the sausage was more interesting. She took a bite.
What is this?
Pork? Is there such a thing as chicken sausage?

“She looks pitiable,” one of the other ladies said, flicking a fan open. “Did you buy a peasant girl’s best dress?”

“Lady Darra, that’s unkind,” another said. “I imagine it would be most difficult to find enough cloth to fit such a tall, not to mention muscular frame.”

No, not pork. It tastes funny
. Dylan thought. She saw a tray of honey glazed rolls. She picked one up, put it on a plate, and handed it to Cagney.

Cagney blinked but accepted the plate.

“And you cannot talk? Is that out of sheer horror, or is it a ploy to get attention?” Lady Kellah asked.

My, my. These girls lack imagination.
Dylan ate another piece of sausage.
What are they trying to accomplish? Are their minds so small they believe there is merit in being known as a harpy?

“Excuse me, Lady Kellah, but don’t you have better ways to spend your time?” Cagney asked.

Lady Kellah laughed. “You’re trying to defend her? Oh, Cagney, I would have thought you learned your lesson by now. Just because you hover in Lord Dooley’s shadow doesn’t make you one of us.”

“No matter how long you cling to the young lord, his wealth and power will not rub off on you, commoner,” another lady spat.

“Everyone knows you’re his assistant because his parents pity you,” Lady Darra said.

Dylan stopped eating when she realized Cagney was shrinking in her spot. The young, confident girl took a step back under the verbal onslaught, her chin dipping.

Their words hurt her
, Dylan realized.

“And when Lord Dooley settles down with a
proper
lady, you’ll be pushed to the back—forced to mind a market stall in a backwater city for the White Sands Trading Company. Just like your parents,” Lady Kellah said. “You—yeeek!” she shrieked when Dylan wiped her fingers coated in sausage oils on her dress.

Dylan waited until the enraged lady looked up at her before mouthing “oops” and covering her lips with a hand.

“You clumsy oaf!” Lady Kellah shouted. “Look what you did to my dress!”

Dylan batted her eyelashes at the lady before gesturing wide. Everyone in the area had stopped speaking and dancing to stare at the group.

Lady Kellah’s face burned red with shame and humiliation.

Dylan smiled and made a shooing motion.

Lady Kellah gripped her skirts. “Your thuggish attack proves my point—you are a brute.” She turned on her heels and marched off.

“Why did you do that?” Cagney asked.

Because they remind me of seagulls, and I didn’t want them flapping around us all night. That would significantly raise our chances of getting pooped on
, Dylan wrote.

“
Dylan
,” Cagney hissed.

You wanted to know
.

“They’re going to come after you again, now. If you just stood there and took it, they would have left us alone, eventually.”

Watching fools entertains me only for a few minutes. Eat your roll
, Dylan ordered, trying to distract Cagney. She had a feeling the meticulous girl would not be pleased to know Dylan intervened because of her.

Cagney frowned but did as she was told. “This is my favorite appetizer,” she admitted.

I know
, Dylan wrote. She searched the room for Lord Dooley. She had taken note of the young lady’s preferences the previous night.

“They’re just jealous, probably. I mean, some of them are naturally mean-spirited, but just about everyone in the palace heard about Prince Callan and Princess Nessa showing you around yesterday,” Cagney said.

I see Dooley
, Dylan wrote.

Cagney stood on her tip toes to see the tall family coming their way. “Oh, he’s with his parents: Lord Bartley and Lady Grania.”

“There you are—gem of my soul! Mother, Father, this is the Miss Dylan I was talking about,” Dooley said, brushing off the sleeve of his bright green coat.

“Good to meet you, Miss Dylan,” Lord Bartley said.

“Yes,” Lady Grania added.

Both the lord and lady looked mild-mannered and…not plain, but
average
. Dylan, however, didn’t trust their blandness. They seemed to wear it the way angel sharks bury themselves in sand as camouflage when they settled on the ocean floor and waited for prey.

“Cagney, both Bartley and I were impressed you were able to drag Dooley to a second function so soon,” Lady Grania said.

“Third—this is the third function I have attended in the past three days,” Dooley proudly said, puffing his chest.

Cagney pressed her lips together. “It is expected that you would attend
all
the opening events of the Summer Palace. It’s good business.”

“It’s boring,” Dooley said.

“Which is why we renew our compliments,” Lady Grania said.

“The reports you sent regarding the store in Mulkeer were genius. Could we implore you to take a similar look at our stand in Easky?” Lord Bartley asked.

“Certainly, although I feel you overestimate the intelligence of my observations,” Cagney said.

“Would you care to dance with me, Miss Dylan? They will be at this for hours,” Dooley said.

Dylan nodded, excited about the idea. Even if the more formal dances weren’t as fun, Dylan still adored dancing.

Dooley offered his arm, and Dylan reluctantly took it. Dooley, to her surprise, led Dylan to an outdoor patio instead of the dance floor.

“Forgive me for my misleading invitation, but I wanted to speak to you, and you would not be able to respond whilst we danced,” Dooley smiled.

She nodded, waiting.

“Those girls who were speaking to you, were they insulting Cagney?” Dooley asked.

Dylan blinked, a little surprised by the question.
Yes.

Dooley nodded once. “How did she take it?”

Badly
.

Dooley rubbed his forehead and said nothing.

They’re harpies
, Dylan added.

Dooley cracked a smile. “You are a strong individual.”

Thank you
.

“Unfortunately, the gem of my heart isn’t quite so tough. I prize her soft heart, but I ache for her when someone says unkind things.”