The Sea Thief

Prologue

Being a fish merchant stunk. Literally.

Reid could barely stop himself from gagging. He was standing so close to the rows and rows of fish that he could see the pinkness of their bellies and the stillness of their eyes. He could taste the salt in the air, he could hear the last surviving fish flex and flop against the table, he could smell the fishiness of it all-

Finally, Reid pinched his nose shut.

He had been selling fish for his father since he was ten. And yet, even after six years of work, he still couldn't get over the smell.

It just wasn't fair. There were so many other stalls in the Narenji markets that he could have manned. There were stalls with flatbread and sweet dough, stalls with vegetables spilling onto the snowy ground, stalls with caged penguins and strips of polar bear fur.

But, no. He was stuck with fish. Sloppy, smelly, slimy fish.

Reid turned away from the bustle of customers haggling over prices. He didn't even bother hollering out his special deals, nor did he try shielding his face from the snow and wind that whipped at his skin.

No one was going to buy his fish. If it weren't for his father, he would have given up selling fish weeks ago.

As he glanced up, though, Reid realised that a girl was heading straight towards his stall. Her hair was long and dark, and her skin was so brown that it seemed to soak up the sun. Her feet were completely bare, but even as the snow crunched beneath them, the girl's smile didn't waver. She just kept walking, her eyes dancing, her arms swaying.

Reid's cheeks burned as he looked down at the fish.

He had to focus. He was here to sell the twenty fish that his father had caught last night. He was not here to stare at pretty girls with long lashes and big eyes.

"It's quite busy today, isn't it?"

Reid nearly cried out in shock at the sound of her voice.

The girl was talking to him.

And she had a really weird accent. Her tongue seemed to roll with every syllable, and the words themselves seemed to wobble and tremble on her lips.

Reid just couldn't help himself. His mouth opened against his own will.

"You're not from here, are you?" he asked. "You don't sound like you're from Narenji."

The girl snorted. "Do I look like I'm from here?"

Reid took one glance at her eyes and immediately knew the answer was no. Not a single person from Narenji had eyes as light as desert sand.

But he didn't say anything. Instead, he turned back to the fish.

Focus. He had to focus. He was not here to talk to pretty girls with cute accents and light eyes. He was here to sell the nineteen fish-

Reid felt his blood turn cold as he counted and recounted the fish on his table.

There were nineteen fish before him. And yet, he could have sworn that there had been twenty.

He glanced up at the girl, but she was already moving away from his stall. As the wind blew at her fur cloak and raised the hem of her sleeves, Reid caught a glimpse of silver scales and sharp fins.

It only took a second for his head to stop spinning.

The girl – the pretty girl with the cute accent – had stolen a fish from his stall.

"Thief!" he called out. He pushed past the crowd of customers and their thin, angular limbs. He ignored the pounding of his heart, ignored the snow and ice that cut at his skin.

All he could focus on was the girl running in front of him and the fish in her hand.

People hollered at him as he shoved his way towards the shoreline. From the corner of his eye, he could see the girl grinning as she waved the fish in the air.

Oh, this little runt.

"Stop!" he cried out. "Stop, you thief!"

The girl didn't even seem to hear him. She only ran to where the ocean waves lapped up against the icy shores.

Reid fought back his grin.

She had cornered herself. She either had to give him the fish or dive into the ocean.

The girl did neither, though.

Instead, she tugged off her cloak and let it fall to the floor. Then, she raised a brown coat to her chest.

Reid didn't see what happened next. He couldn't see.

All he could see was a blast of white light. It seared into his eyes, and though he couldn't see, he could hear the ocean slap the shore even more hungrily than before, could feel the snow shift desperately beneath his boots.

When the light was finally ripped away from his eyes, Reid found that he was no longer face to face with the girl.

Rather, he was face to face with a creature.

A creature with webbed feet and a round stomach. Instead of legs, there were long flippers. Instead of a small nose and a soft smile, there was a blunt snout and thin whiskers. Instead of fingers, there were long claws.

Long claws that were still holding onto his fish.

The creature – the seal, Reid corrected himself – took one final glance at him before slipping straight into the ocean.

Reid could only gape as the seal moved through the water like a dart of silver.

"Not a seal," he told himself. "A Selkie."