by K. M. Shea
“I didn’t know these falls existed,” Callan said, looking up at the cascading water.
Here, she decided. She tied up the fabric of her skirts—today she wore a simple emerald green dress, one Callan had bought for her—before leading Callan over to several smooth rocks. Dylan plopped down on one and motioned for Callan to join her.
Callan—who had stripped off his boots when they first entered the river—tossed them aside and rolled up his breeches. “What’s this about?” he asked, twisting away when she started fishing down the front of her dress for the papers.
She passed the papers over before she untangled her slate and pouch of chalk from her skirts while Callan skimmed the papers.
“These are Jarlath’s?” Callan guessed.
She nodded. He is responsible for the banditry. His friends are involved as well, but he runs it.
Callan nodded and brought a new paper to the front of the pile.
You aren’t surprised? she wrote.
“No. We—my father, myself, and others—have suspected it for some time, but we’ve never managed to catch any proof,” Callan said.
So you are aware of the sea witch?
“Who?”
The sea witch. She’s the one responsible for the storms that riddle the coast and the typhoons on Ringsted’s northeast and northwest borders, she wrote. While Callan read her words, Dylan splashed her feet in the river, taking comfort from the solid strength of the waterfall.
“We thought magic had to be involved, but we hoped we were wrong,” Callan said, his pleasant face smoothed into an expression of apprehension. “It’s just one mage, though?”
Yes.
“She must be powerful. It takes at least two or three weather mages to break through her storms,” Callan said.
She’s not. Dylan wrote, clutching her chalk so hard she snapped it in half. She’s supplementing her power with the blood of innocent creatures.
“The baby otter,” Callan said, understanding lighting up the green flecks in his hazel eyes.
One of her victims, yes. She’s slaughtered everything from whales to sea lions. With the excess power, she hides her trail—or my family would have hunted her down long before now.
“Your family isn’t allied with Jarlath, then?” Callan asked.
Dylan raised an eyebrow at him.
Callan raised the papers. “I know, you wouldn’t have brought me these if you were. But why is he your guardian, if that is the case?”
He is not my guardian. He is my captor—as much as I am ashamed to admit to being outsmarted by such a dull, debauched creature. I travel with him because he holds my—he exploits my greatest weakness. My family doesn’t know where I am, she wrote.
“He’s holding you captive? Why didn’t you say something sooner? I will have him thrown in the dungeons,” Callan said, his voice dark as he stood up.
She rolled her eyes and grabbed the sleeve of the prince’s cotton shirt, yanking him back down. I didn’t tell you, because there is nothing you can do about it. If I displease him, there will be horrible consequences for me—even if you throw him in the dungeon.
Callan studied her. He opened his mouth to speak, but Dylan shook her head.
She could tell him about Jarlath and the sea witch, but she couldn’t break her silence on who she really was. It was a secret that was much bigger than she and her circumstances.
When retrieving these papers, I overheard a conversation between some of Jarlath’s men. They said the sea witch will have to move soon—before you and your father depart for Glenglassera, I think.
“Perhaps they mean to attack us en route,” Callan said.
Dylan shook her head. The sea witch has no power on land—her magic is tied to the ocean. If she is to use her magic, she must be in the ocean.
“We do follow the shore at several spots in our journey,” Callan said, rubbing his chin.
I will see if I can find out more information, but it took me over a month to secure those papers, and I found them through sheer luck. I cannot promise I will find something more.
“Of course not,” Callan said, brushing her hand with gentle fingers. “I’m a prince. I do have trained spies—although most of them are stranded outside of Ringsted due to the storms.”
What next? she asked.
“I will show these papers to my father. We’ll have to notify a few government officials, but we should have Jarlath imprisoned by nightfall,” the prince hesitated. “How will that affect Jarlath’s hold on your…weakness?”
As long as you do not name me as your source of information, I should be fine. Jarlath thinks I am ignorant of his plots and schemes. It will never occur to him that I was the one who passed on the information, she wrote. She remembered the way Bump and Lump watched her ride away with Callan, and for a moment her heart squeezed with worry. But…oddly enough…she felt that maybe, hopefully, they would keep their silence—as they had with all her other troublesome behavior. The sea witch will be suspicious, but I suspect to her Jarlath is a tool. She needed a fortress near the sea to escape capture. Jarlath happened to have one.
Callan crumpled the papers. “It’s maddening to know that allies who care so very little for each other are so easily able to entangle us.”
It is because they are evil, she reasoned. The wicked—like the sea witch—always use shortcuts and supplements for power. If she went unchecked, she would pay the price for it. But I am not willing to let things grow that bad. She will be stopped before then.
“But she’s a mage. If she’s powerful enough to keep typhoons endlessly active—whether it’s through her powers or trickery—an army couldn’t hold her. We will need a slew of other mages.”
No, Dylan wrote. My family will take care of her as soon as I can get to them. Of this Dylan was sure. The selkies would have to blow the secret of their existence wide open and reveal themselves to humans through the mass use of their singing and water magic, but if that was the price to pay for eliminating the sea witch, she was certain her family would pay it.
Callan stared at her. “And I suppose if I ask who your family is, you won’t tell me?”
Dylan smiled, tugging a sigh from the prince.
“So when Jarlath is imprisoned, what will you do?” Callan asked after several moments of silence.
He has something of mine that I must retrieve.
“At Kingsgrace Castle?”
I think so.
“I could send a squadron of guards with you.”
She shook her head. If you could keep all of Jarlath’s men—including my guards—imprisoned, I can sneak into his castle alone and avoid suspicion.
“That seems unnecessarily dangerous,” Callan said. “And I’m not certain it is a good idea to arrest your guards. They seem good enough.”
She shook her head again. They are Jarlath’s.
“I wouldn’t be sure about that. But I suppose you don’t need to decide what to do immediately. Once Jarlath is secured, you will have time,” Callan said.
Dylan shrugged.
“After you retrieve your weakness, what will you do?”
Warn my family, and stop the sea witch, Dylan wrote. If the worst came to pass she could bypass getting her pelt, and ride straight to one of her family’s fortifications to warn them, but she hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
“Thank you,” Callan added. “For the papers, and for trusting me.”
Of course.
“I’m glad my suspicions were right, and you aren’t Jarlath’s ally,” Callan said rolling up the papers and shoving them inside his boot for safekeeping.
She recoiled in horror. You thought I would AID such a witless man?
“He said he was your guardian, and you didn’t refute the story. What else was I to think?” Callan asked.
Dylan scowled at the prince. It had never occurred to her that anyone might not trust her. Why wouldn’t they? It was beside the point that it had taken weeks for Callan to win her trust.
/> Callan laughed—a pleasing sound that brightened her bad humor like the steady chant of the frothy waterfalls.
“Truly, Dylan, given our history, I did have a terrible time of it,” Callan said.
Our history? she wondered. Did that mean…did he remember? He couldn’t—otherwise he would know what she was!
She was distracted from her thoughts when Callan took her hand and stood, pulling her to her feet.
“How did you know this waterfall was here? Through some kind of water magic?” Callan asked. “I know you have something. You knew that kelpie was coming before anyone could have spotted it.”
She shrugged.
Callan smiled and slid his arms around her, pulling her close until she bumped into his chest. “Mother is going to think you are a saint. You already achieved great heights in her graces through saving Nessa. Nabbing Jarlath will put her over the moon,” Callan said, standing cheek to cheek with her.
Dylan found it very difficult to concentrate, and her heart beat erratically. What’s wrong with me? I’m not a twitterpated pup, she thought.
“It’s a good thing. We need her on our side,” Callan said, pulling back.
She tilted her head and gave the prince her best confused look.
“Yes, our side. That is, if you’ll join me?” Callan said, his face drawing closer and closer.
Oh, she thought in a moment of rare enlightenment. I think he means to insinuate that he likes me. And I…I love him. Dylan was not upset at all by this thought as Callan drew so close his breath brushed her lips. Every decade or so, a selkie married a human. It wasn’t taboo; it was just unusual that a selkie would want a lander. But Callan would suit her just fine. Yes, I think I’ve loved him for a while, she thought, closing her eyes and leaning into Callan.
Just before Callan’s lips could brush against hers, her eyes snapped open. Barnacles. I LOVE him. He’s going to unseal my voice!
She backed up so fast she ripped herself out of Callan’s grip and almost landed on her rear. She staggered and managed to prop herself up on the rocks, giving herself a moment to think.
“Dylan?” Callan said. The tone of his voice was pitched to cover up the hurt in his voice, but she still heard it.
She held up a finger to the prince, asking for a moment. She pushed her wild hair out of her face and thought.
Jarlath hadn’t been caught yet, and even if he was, she knew her pelt wasn’t at the Summer Palace. If it was back at Kingsgrace Castle, there were two possibilities: The sea witch could be gone, in which case she could descend upon the bandits with as much spite as she wanted—they were too afraid of her to go for her pelt. However, the sea witch may be there. If that were true, sashaying up to the castle to reclaim her pelt would be impossible with her voice back—the sea witch would use it as leverage.
No. As much as it infuriated Dylan, it was best to keep her voice sealed. She scowled, ill-humored with the sudden turn in events. She raised her gaze to Callan, who studied her with an emotionless mask.
Dylan fussed with her slate for a moment before writing, Not until after Jarlath is captured and my weakness is mine to own again.
“So, you’re not saying no to me, just…not yet?” Callan asked.
Dylan nodded before she threw her arms around Callan and squeezed him. She kissed his cheek and buried her face in his shoulder lest either of them be too tempted. He eased his arms around her and rested his cheek on her hair.
After a few long, sweet moments, she pulled back. We should return, she wrote before a sly smile crept across her face. You have a lord to fish for.
A hint of a smile crept across Callan’s face, and he nodded. “I do. Home, my lady?” he asked, offering his hand.
Dylan nodded and clasped his hand in hers before the two returned to the rocks to retrieve their shoes and set out.
The ride back to the Summer Palace was shorter than Dylan remembered. Both the villagers of Easky and the guards at the palace gates were remarkably blank-faced at seeing their prince ride through—disheveled and wet—with an equally disheveled and wet Dylan perched behind him.
Callan stabled his horse and led Dylan up to the main palace. When he moved to go towards the governmental wing, Dylan stayed where she was, pulling on his arm.
“My father will be in the governmental wing at this time of day, with all the officials we need to show the papers to,” Callan said.
Dylan got out her slate and wrote Lunch.
Callan stared at the slate before outright laughing. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or appalled that arrests take a backseat to your stomach. Very well, find something to eat and then come to the governmental wing. I’ll tell the guards on the bridge to expect you, and they’ll show you to Father’s public office. Is that agreeable?”
Dylan nodded as her stomach growled.
“Take care,” Callan said. He tucked some of her wild hair behind her ears before leaving, his steps quick and even as he walked away.
She watched him go and then entered the main palace, turning in the direction of the kitchens. She rounded a corner and smacked straight into Jarlath, almost sending the shorter man sprawling.
“There you are,” Jarlath snarled. “Come on, we’re leaving.”
Her heart froze. What?
She moved to write on her slate, but Jarlath took it from her hands and threw it away. “Oisin, Morri. Take control of your charge!” Jarlath grunted when Dylan elbowed him in the gut and turned to run.
Lump moved to stand in her path, and Bump ghosted up behind her, penning her in. They grabbed her arms with a bear-trap grip. She was caught.
“Don’t dawdle. We’re leaving. Now!” Jarlath said, leading the way out of the palace and down the winding path to the stables and palace gates. “We would have left an hour ago, but we couldn’t locate you,” Jarlath said, eyeing her. “A complication you will pay for.”
What was going on? They couldn’t leave! If they left, Callan and his father wouldn’t be able to arrest Jarlath!
I should have let Callan kiss me. Then I could scream, and someone would stop us! Dylan wriggled and fought her guards.
As they approached the gates, Jarlath’s coach rolled up.
“Ride with her,” Jarlath ordered Bump and Lump before he mounted up.
Bump and Lump stuffed Dylan in the carriage, joining her in the stuffy compartment and blocking the doors.
Dylan spent most of the ride fighting them—kicking out, lunging for the door, and silently growling at them. Neither Bump nor Lump said a word.
By the time they arrived at Jarlath’s castle, she was spent. Defeat sat on her shoulders with the weight of a whale. Jarlath had—unintentionally—outmaneuvered Callan. Callan would need to put together more than a squadron of soldiers to rip Jarlath from his own home. It might be days before Callan could march against him. And who knew what Jarlath would do in the meantime? Did he know that Callan had proof of his activities? How could he? Dylan had just given the prince the papers.
Dylan staggered out of the carriage, tired from fighting for the whole drive.
“Retrieve the selkie’s pelt,” Jarlath ordered one of his men as he approached Dylan and her guards. “How was the drive? Did she behave herself?” he asked, sliding a hunting knife from his belt as he eyed Dylan.
Dylan swallowed her fear and built her resolve.
“Quiet as a kitten,” Lump said. She tried to swallow her surprise.
“Good,” Jarlath said before pointing at Dylan with his knife. “Behave yourself,” he ordered.
“Lord Jarlath,” Dylan heard the sea witch’s voice as a path opened up between the men in front of her. “You took your time in arriving.”
“You could have given me more notice. I pulled my men together as soon as I received your summons. Have you finished, then?” Jarlath swaggered across the stable yard.
“I have made enough charms to keep you and your men safe when I bring the tidal wave down on the palace,” the sea witch said, indicat
ing a small chest a servant carried for her.
What! Dylan stiffened in Bump and Lump’s grasp. They were going to kill Callan—they were going to kill everyone: Dooley, Cagney, the servants, the visiting nobles, the villagers!
Jarlath took the chest and opened it, inspecting its contents. “There’s only a dozen charms here,” he complained. “I need more men than that to take the palace.”
“There will be no palace to take. The tidal wave and accompanying storm will crush it,” the sea witch said. “You are there to make sure no one escapes. The royal family must perish, as well as everyone with them. The Ringsted government must be slaughtered. As soon as we finish destroying the Summer Palace, we move on to Glenglassera.”
“That isn’t part of our deal. You said Glenglassera would remain intact; that’s why we are killing the royal family at the Summer Palace,” Jarlath frowned.
“My orders have changed. Glenglassera is to be rubble,” the sea witch said.
“You can’t, Yseult,” Jarlath said, his face turning ruddy with anger. “If Ringsted loses Glenglassera, any other country can take us over with ease—mountain range or not.”
“Your silly country will be taken over, Jarlath. Did you think my superiors would give up occupation after laying waste to your government?” Yseult laughed. “Now will you back down, or do you still want in?”
Dylan’s legs almost gave out. She was in over her head.
The selkies hadn’t taken into account the human side of the storms, but even further, Dylan and her kin hadn’t bothered to wonder why a sea witch would suddenly have run of the country. The sea witch wasn’t doing this on a whim. She mentioned orders. There were a masterminds behind this. There was a strategy.
Based on what Dylan learned at the Summer Palace, she didn’t think the sea witch and her masters would stop with Ringsted. It was likely they attacked Ringsted because they were easier to isolate and they had an extensive fleet of ships that would be very handy for attacking other countries.