Read Online The Little Selkie (retail) by K. M. Shea - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: K. M. Shea
Ads: Link
you like to listen to grownups talk about exports and imports and gross national product?” Prince Viggo asked. “I’d much rather be riding.”
Dylan helped herself to two biscuits from the tray of bread as she watched the brother and sister. Viggo wasn’t much over fifteen, but the way he played with his sibling reminded Dylan of her sisters. Dylan sighed wistfully and leaned back in her chair as she remembered swimming with Maili, Muriel, Murphy, Mairead, and Maureen. It was always so much fun to twirl through kelp and seaweed with her sisters.
Stop it. Pay attention! Dylan shook her head to clear it. There’s no sense sighing over memories when I have my pelt to seek. Besides, it wasn’t that picture perfect. Bossy Maureen would never leave me be when we swam!
“You were confident last night, Father. If you act the same tonight, I don’t think anyone else will catch on to your worry,” Prince Callan said.
“Perhaps not, but they know it. They must know it. We’re a trading country that’s been forcibly isolated. Our most powerful families all own trading companies. This weather hurts them, and it hurts us all. Banditry is on the rise—probably due to all the unemployed sailors. And they’re making a killing,” King Rory said, shredding a piece of toast.
“How?” Prince Viggo asked. “We don’t land trade. At all.”
“You are correct. The Chronos Mountains prevent land trade routes with other countries. But, all our inner-Ringsted trading must be shipped from one end of the country to the other by land traders, since the boats are stranded,” King Rory said.
Dylan took in the defeated slump to his posture as she ate some elderberries—they were out of season, but she suspected they had been frozen over the winter, for they were iced—like a desert. The conversation paused as the royals chewed, and she longed to have a voice to prod it onward.
Bandits? Land trading? Someone, please ask for more information. Or comment on it. Anything! Curse my unspeaking tongue—I want to know!
“I wouldn’t be so sure the bandits are out-of-work sailors,” Prince Callan finally said. “It’s unfair to blame it on them. Besides, our sailors are the good sort. I don’t think they would turn to marauding.”
“Perhaps not,” King Rory sighed.
“You eat a lot,” Princess Nessa said, looking at Dylan with curious eyes.
Prince Callan froze next to Dylan, but Dylan nodded in acknowledgement and offered the princess a slice of dried apple from her plate.
Princess Nessa grinned and took the slice. She popped it in her mouth before offering Dylan a funny-looking pastry she had been trying to avoid.
Dylan reluctantly tried the pastry, surprised to find it was sweet and flavored with honey. She smiled at Princess Nessa and nodded in thanks.
The princess giggled and ate a mouthful of eggs.
Prince Callan looked from Dylan to Princess Nessa, a bemused smile on his lips, but the king hadn’t even noticed the exchange.
“We must hope the Veneno Conclave will soon have time to investigate these storms—to be so unmoving is unnatural. And their position is disconcerting,” King Rory said before eating a piece of toast.
“And the storms continue to build,” Prince Callan added, picking at his eggs.
So the storms stop country business, er, trading. Based on the king’s posture, I would say it must be terrible. I wish they would talk more about it. And how do they not shrivel up and starve, eating as little as they do? Dylan looked back and forth between King Rory and Prince Callan.
“What function are we throwing tomorrow night?” Prince Viggo asked.
“A royal dinner, I think,” King Rory said, his brow puckering. “Your mother is organizing it.”
“Yes,” Prince Callan confirmed. “Although I believe it is, above all else, an opportunity for the ladies to parade their beauty about.”
Wait! What about the storms and bandits?
“I thought that’s what tonight’s marina opening is
Dylan helped herself to two biscuits from the tray of bread as she watched the brother and sister. Viggo wasn’t much over fifteen, but the way he played with his sibling reminded Dylan of her sisters. Dylan sighed wistfully and leaned back in her chair as she remembered swimming with Maili, Muriel, Murphy, Mairead, and Maureen. It was always so much fun to twirl through kelp and seaweed with her sisters.
Stop it. Pay attention! Dylan shook her head to clear it. There’s no sense sighing over memories when I have my pelt to seek. Besides, it wasn’t that picture perfect. Bossy Maureen would never leave me be when we swam!
“You were confident last night, Father. If you act the same tonight, I don’t think anyone else will catch on to your worry,” Prince Callan said.
“Perhaps not, but they know it. They must know it. We’re a trading country that’s been forcibly isolated. Our most powerful families all own trading companies. This weather hurts them, and it hurts us all. Banditry is on the rise—probably due to all the unemployed sailors. And they’re making a killing,” King Rory said, shredding a piece of toast.
“How?” Prince Viggo asked. “We don’t land trade. At all.”
“You are correct. The Chronos Mountains prevent land trade routes with other countries. But, all our inner-Ringsted trading must be shipped from one end of the country to the other by land traders, since the boats are stranded,” King Rory said.
Dylan took in the defeated slump to his posture as she ate some elderberries—they were out of season, but she suspected they had been frozen over the winter, for they were iced—like a desert. The conversation paused as the royals chewed, and she longed to have a voice to prod it onward.
Bandits? Land trading? Someone, please ask for more information. Or comment on it. Anything! Curse my unspeaking tongue—I want to know!
“I wouldn’t be so sure the bandits are out-of-work sailors,” Prince Callan finally said. “It’s unfair to blame it on them. Besides, our sailors are the good sort. I don’t think they would turn to marauding.”
“Perhaps not,” King Rory sighed.
“You eat a lot,” Princess Nessa said, looking at Dylan with curious eyes.
Prince Callan froze next to Dylan, but Dylan nodded in acknowledgement and offered the princess a slice of dried apple from her plate.
Princess Nessa grinned and took the slice. She popped it in her mouth before offering Dylan a funny-looking pastry she had been trying to avoid.
Dylan reluctantly tried the pastry, surprised to find it was sweet and flavored with honey. She smiled at Princess Nessa and nodded in thanks.
The princess giggled and ate a mouthful of eggs.
Prince Callan looked from Dylan to Princess Nessa, a bemused smile on his lips, but the king hadn’t even noticed the exchange.
“We must hope the Veneno Conclave will soon have time to investigate these storms—to be so unmoving is unnatural. And their position is disconcerting,” King Rory said before eating a piece of toast.
“And the storms continue to build,” Prince Callan added, picking at his eggs.
So the storms stop country business, er, trading. Based on the king’s posture, I would say it must be terrible. I wish they would talk more about it. And how do they not shrivel up and starve, eating as little as they do? Dylan looked back and forth between King Rory and Prince Callan.
“What function are we throwing tomorrow night?” Prince Viggo asked.
“A royal dinner, I think,” King Rory said, his brow puckering. “Your mother is organizing it.”
“Yes,” Prince Callan confirmed. “Although I believe it is, above all else, an opportunity for the ladies to parade their beauty about.”
Wait! What about the storms and bandits?
“I thought that’s what tonight’s marina opening is
Similar Books
