Read Online The Little Selkie (retail) by K. M. Shea - Free Book Online
Authors: K. M. Shea
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carved with swelling waves, whales, fish, and even a seal or two. Three of the chairs at the table were occupied.
A man Dylan recognized as King Rory sat at the head of the table—he had given a speech during the festival the previous night with his wife, Queen Etain. A teenage boy sat on the long side of the rectangle. A little girl who couldn’t have been older than eight sat next to him, kicking her feet. When the little girl looked up and saw them, she brightened.
“Callan!” she called, her curious eyes falling on Dylan. “Who is she?”
“Miss Dylan, may I introduce you to my family: my father, King Rory; my brother, Prince Viggo; and my youngest sister, Princess Nessa. This is Miss Dylan, Lord Jarlath’s ward.”
With the majority of the royal family lined up, Dylan could see the family resemblance. Both Prince Callan and Prince Viggo shared the strong, handsome features of their father, although Callan was built more lean and limber than his sturdy father and brother.
Still, just because he’s lean doesn’t mean he doesn’t weigh as much as an anchor. I remember that man I saved. He—that man I saved . She narrowed her eyes and turned to stare at Prince Callan’s body.
He had the same build—broad shoulders narrowing into a lean torso. His face had been hard to see in the dark, but Dylan thought—no—she was certain now. Prince Callan was the man she saved from the shipwreck two years ago. Now that she thought about it, she remembered the short glimpses she had of his hazel eyes flecked with green and gold as she sang to him and waited for someone to find him.
Does he remember? No, he couldn’t. He never really woke up. Besides, I’m certain he was addled, being tossed about as he was. Still, to think I saved a prince.
“Oh, you’re the one who doesn’t talk,” Viggo said and then blanched. “No offense. I meant—”
Dylan flashed a white grin at the younger prince, hoping to communicate that no harm was done.
“Very good,” King Rory said, rubbing the bags under his eyes as he motioned servants forward.
Dylan sat next to Callan—who sat across from his brother, on his father’s open side—and almost jumped when a servant presented a white cloth to her. Dylan glanced at Callan—who used the towel to wipe off his hands—and copied him before handing the cloth back to the servant.
The servant curtsied, disappeared, and was replaced by another servant bearing food.
“Why don’t you talk?” Princess Nessa asked, peering over the table.
“Nessa,” the king said, his voice tired. “Are they hers?” he asked, flicking a finger at the staircase Dylan and Callan had climbed. Dylan twisted around to see Bump and Lump stationed like statues at the stairs.
“Yes,” Prince Callan confirmed as the dishes were slid into place and uncovered.
The first round of food was goose, duck, and chicken eggs that were poached, fried, and scrambled. Dylan waited until everyone had served themselves before trying a bit of each.
“I believe the festival was a success. The closing ceremony went well,” Prince Callan said. “I hope the marina opening tonight goes just as well.”
“Yes, even if it is more than a little superfluous to open it. Until those typhoons die down, our trading is dead in the water. Even our two weather mages can’t force their way through the storms now,” King Rory said, his mouth a grim slash. “It was only good luck that Viggo made it back in time from the wedding of those Erlauf royals.”
Weather mages can’t get through? Dylan tried to open her mouth to ask and glared at her plate when no noise came out.
“Why can’t I attend the marina opening?” Princess Nessa asked.
“Because you’re too young,” Prince Viggo said. Princess Nessa stuck her tongue out at him, and Prince Viggo playfully sneered back at her. “You’re not missing anything. It’s dead boring,” he added.
“You’re just saying that,” Princess Nessa said.
“Am not. Would
A man Dylan recognized as King Rory sat at the head of the table—he had given a speech during the festival the previous night with his wife, Queen Etain. A teenage boy sat on the long side of the rectangle. A little girl who couldn’t have been older than eight sat next to him, kicking her feet. When the little girl looked up and saw them, she brightened.
“Callan!” she called, her curious eyes falling on Dylan. “Who is she?”
“Miss Dylan, may I introduce you to my family: my father, King Rory; my brother, Prince Viggo; and my youngest sister, Princess Nessa. This is Miss Dylan, Lord Jarlath’s ward.”
With the majority of the royal family lined up, Dylan could see the family resemblance. Both Prince Callan and Prince Viggo shared the strong, handsome features of their father, although Callan was built more lean and limber than his sturdy father and brother.
Still, just because he’s lean doesn’t mean he doesn’t weigh as much as an anchor. I remember that man I saved. He—that man I saved . She narrowed her eyes and turned to stare at Prince Callan’s body.
He had the same build—broad shoulders narrowing into a lean torso. His face had been hard to see in the dark, but Dylan thought—no—she was certain now. Prince Callan was the man she saved from the shipwreck two years ago. Now that she thought about it, she remembered the short glimpses she had of his hazel eyes flecked with green and gold as she sang to him and waited for someone to find him.
Does he remember? No, he couldn’t. He never really woke up. Besides, I’m certain he was addled, being tossed about as he was. Still, to think I saved a prince.
“Oh, you’re the one who doesn’t talk,” Viggo said and then blanched. “No offense. I meant—”
Dylan flashed a white grin at the younger prince, hoping to communicate that no harm was done.
“Very good,” King Rory said, rubbing the bags under his eyes as he motioned servants forward.
Dylan sat next to Callan—who sat across from his brother, on his father’s open side—and almost jumped when a servant presented a white cloth to her. Dylan glanced at Callan—who used the towel to wipe off his hands—and copied him before handing the cloth back to the servant.
The servant curtsied, disappeared, and was replaced by another servant bearing food.
“Why don’t you talk?” Princess Nessa asked, peering over the table.
“Nessa,” the king said, his voice tired. “Are they hers?” he asked, flicking a finger at the staircase Dylan and Callan had climbed. Dylan twisted around to see Bump and Lump stationed like statues at the stairs.
“Yes,” Prince Callan confirmed as the dishes were slid into place and uncovered.
The first round of food was goose, duck, and chicken eggs that were poached, fried, and scrambled. Dylan waited until everyone had served themselves before trying a bit of each.
“I believe the festival was a success. The closing ceremony went well,” Prince Callan said. “I hope the marina opening tonight goes just as well.”
“Yes, even if it is more than a little superfluous to open it. Until those typhoons die down, our trading is dead in the water. Even our two weather mages can’t force their way through the storms now,” King Rory said, his mouth a grim slash. “It was only good luck that Viggo made it back in time from the wedding of those Erlauf royals.”
Weather mages can’t get through? Dylan tried to open her mouth to ask and glared at her plate when no noise came out.
“Why can’t I attend the marina opening?” Princess Nessa asked.
“Because you’re too young,” Prince Viggo said. Princess Nessa stuck her tongue out at him, and Prince Viggo playfully sneered back at her. “You’re not missing anything. It’s dead boring,” he added.
“You’re just saying that,” Princess Nessa said.
“Am not. Would
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