Free The Seal King Murders by Alanna Knight Page A

least.’ And looking him over candidly, her expression said that she was pleased by what she saw.
    ‘Obviously that legend doesn’t worry you, walking alone on such a night of local drama.’
    She laughed. ‘I can’t imagine how awful it must be – the bride of such a creature. But it is a lovely haunting legend and this is the right time of year. At least the last seal king’s bride – I expect you know the story, everyone still talks about it, I heard it when I was a little girl – didn’t have to submit to a long and painful examination by her parents. Every hour has to be accounted for, so what would it be like – a whole year and a day to explain away?’
    She obviously found no humour in the thought, and a shadow crossed her face. Silent for a moment biting her lip, frowning and deep in thought, then she laughed. ‘I wonder why her distraught parents never ran to the police about their missing daughter.’
    ‘I gather that they were too terrified.’
    ‘Terrified?’
    ‘Afraid all their family would be cursed. According to legend, defying the seal king’s rule meant death. Their men out fishing would have their boats wrecked. They’d be snatched up by him and drowned in revenge.’
    ‘How horrible. But one can’t honestly imagineparents being taken in by such superstitious nonsense these days.’
    Faro could have told her lots of even sillier superstitions that bound the lives of ordinary folk in Orkney. ‘Are you staying at home for a while?’
    ‘Not if I can help it. Just a few matters to attend to and then I’m off again.’ He waited but was not to be enlightened. ‘Shall we walk?’ she asked.
    She talked about London, their other home and how she loved the theatre and the museums and art galleries. Small wonder, thought he, that she was soon bored in Orkney, this rich eighteen-year-old whose only role in life was to be shown off to various suitors and make the best possible marriage arranged by her parents. He guessed she would be extremely fortunate if love was ever considered a necessary ingredient.
    As they progressed slowly along the water’s edge, he realised there were others on the beach that night, drawn out by the mild sunshine and the possibility of seeing the Northern Lights, that strange phenomenon of these islands.
    Ahead of them Sergeant Stavely, his wife and a tall youth were enjoying an evening stroll, while three young girls were throwing sticks to a large yellow dog, occasionally diverting their attentions to a competition of skimming stonesacross the water with shrieks of delight.
    ‘Hello there!’ Greetings were exchanged, the boy introduced as the Stavelys’ son, Edward, while Faro received a rather arch glance from Stavely as he bowed to the girl.
    ‘Good evening, Miss Celia.’ A curtsey from Mrs Stavely. The sergeant knew his place, but his son, painfully shy, did not even glance in the girl’s direction.
    ‘You’re a long way from home,’ said Faro, surprised at meeting the Stavelys so far from Kirkwall.
    Stavely laughed. ‘Enjoying a change of scene. Having a couple of days off, visiting Lily’s brother, Hal – he lives a couple of miles up the road.’
    With no desire to linger, polite goodnights, an awkward bow from Edward and the three, gathering the younger children and calling the dog to order, walked swiftly ahead.
    A sudden turbulence in the sea, a head popped up nearby, regarded them with an old man’s face of suspicion and indignation, then disappeared again.
    At Faro’s side, Celia giggled. ‘I do hope that none of those children’s stones hit His Majesty. Do you think that was him out having a look around for a prospective bride?’
    Faro said, ‘Doubtful, very doubtful.’ Whenshe glanced at him frowning, he added, ‘Did you not think him a little elderly for a bridegroom?’
    She shook her head, gave him a wry look. ‘You should see some of the hopefuls I’ve encountered in London salons and you would soon change your mind. Age is no