#Chapter 3 Stepfather

Viviane’s POV

The wolves will never let us go, and on land we don’t stand a chance against them. They have night vision and supernatural hearing, they can track a smell from miles away, they can run 10 times faster and tear us to shreds with nothing more than their teeth.

There is no doubt what fate awaits us if we’re caught. Escapees don’t go back to the camp, they are killed on sight, and not humanely.

The river is in sight now, but behind us howls announce the guards’ pursuit.

We exchange terrified glances as we run, and suddenly Isla’s father is shouting above the wind. “Get to the river!”

I don’t understand, that was already the plan. Then I realize he is no longer beside me, I slow down, craning my neck over my shoulder to see him running back to face the wolves. “Come on, Viviane!” My mother urges me, sounding as if she is on the verge of hysterics.

“But—”

“He made his choice!” She cuts me off. “We agreed that you would come first.”

I start to protest again, but she does not let me. Gasping out words between breathless pants, she still manages to sound stern. “Do not make his sacrifice in vain, Viviane. The best thing you can do to honor him is make it!”

I hear snarls and sickening screams as we dive into the freezing river – the only place the wolves cannot track us. I feel sick, thinking I might actually vomit into the water as the current sweeps us away.

Neither of us know how to swim with legs, but we were made for the water. We dive beneath the surface, breathing in the heavenly liquid as we try to sort out navigating with these strange limbs. We roll and bump into each other, thankful the river is deep enough for us to dive out of the wolves’ reach.

We hurtle along the sandy river bed, trapped in an overwhelming jumble of emotions: guilt and despair for Isla’s father, fear that somehow we might still be caught, wonder as we explore a natural body of water for the first time, worry about what is to come next. And above it all, above everything else: elation.

We are free.

__________________

One Month Later

“Must you marry him?” I’m sitting in an oversized armchair, forlornly watching my mother try on dress after dress.

“Do you want to keep living in that hovel?” She asks me, referring to the abandoned warehouse we currently inhabit with a number of other escaped mermaids.

After arriving in Asterion, the capital city of the Nightshade wolf pack, we learned that the enslavement of mermaids is forbidden by shifter law. The Alpha of the Bloodstone pack, Damien, was violating a treaty every Alpha on the continent signed over 30 years ago – himself included.

After centuries of hunting emptied the seas of mermaids, the shifters discovered that their greed had consequences after all. Without our care, ocean life began to dwindle and die, upending entire economies and endangering ecosystems dependent on marine nutrients and prey.

It took many years of negotiations, but eventually mermaids were allowed to return to the ocean – assuming they could. Those who suffered The Cut were allowed to join shifter society, integrating into packs at the very lowest level. Mermaids living among shifters are treated terribly, but pearl reaping, surgeries like The Cut, and enslavement are illegal.

On paper we are supposed to have the same rights as the shifters, but reality is much different. Mermaids are required to register with pack councils and formally request asylum before entering a territory, but many like the Nightshade pack have restricted the number accepted with an annual quota.

When Mom and I reached the border we met a group of mermaids from other prisons, who explained that there was an entry ban in place. We could not risk going elsewhere, we were still on Bloodstone lands and the next territory was hundreds of miles away.

Together we snuck into Asterion, disguising ourselves with hair dye and pheromone sprays that would make us smell like shifters. We found a small community of registered and unregistered mermaids who taught us about life among the Nightshades.

Life is difficult, but I’d far rather live among my own kind than the species that tortured us for generations.

“I like the camp.” I reply, tossing my hair. The long locks used to be the same shades as my tail: light pastels of cerulean, blush and lilac. Now it is platinum blonde, the only color remaining in fashionable streaks like so many shifters wear these days.

“We’re unregistered, Viviane. We need protection.” Mother reminds me in a whisper, heading back into the dressing room.

I move to stand on the other side of the door, keeping my voice low so we won’t be overheard. “What does that matter? Everyone thinks we’re cat shifters.” I remind her.

The door swings open, “And when they ask us to shift and we can’t?” She asks hotly, “When they see the brands?”

I quell slightly, my eyes growing wet behind the oversized sunglasses protecting them from the fluorescent lights. “I just – I know he’s nice.” I begin shakily, “But how can we trust a wolf? I mean, won’t he see the brand? What if he sells back to the Bloodstones?”

“I’ll cover the brand, Angelfish.” She smiles sadly, “Trust me he won’t be paying attention to my ankles.”

“You don’t have to do this.” I insist weakly, hating the thought of my mother giving up such an intimate piece of herself just so we can be accepted here.

“Mordred is a wealthy aristocrat, he is exactly the sort of person we need on our side.” Mother explains gently. “In time he will come to love me for more than my beauty, then we will be safe.” Her loving hands rest on my shoulders. “Besides, you need to be around other kids your age. You’re going to love having a sister.” She proclaims, referring to Mordred’s daughter, Nerissa.

I’m not convinced. I’ve met Nerissa. Her father is unquestionably sweet, but she is everything I would expect of an aristocrat’s child. Entitled, selfish and shallow, she is nothing like the children I grew up with, the surrogate siblings I loved.

“If you’re sure.” I concede numbly.

Her smile is so confident I almost believe her. “I am.”

____________________

Despite my initial skepticism, it seems Mom was right about Mordred. They’re been married five months now and he’s been nothing but wonderful. He dotes on my mother, even with her frequent bouts of illness.

We’ve both gotten a lot healthier since being here, but Mom was in the pearl farms too long. Her body is weak, her energy permanently depleted. She always put on a good front when we were in hiding, finding the strength to carry on for the sake of my survival, but now that we’re safe she doesn’t pretend.

This last bout has been worse than the others. Mom hasn’t been out of bed for more than two weeks. Mordred and I nurse her, and I do everything I can to fill her role around the house, but it never seems like enough.

“What are you doing?” A high-pitched voice sounds from the doorway.

My stepsister Nerissa is watching me with narrowed eyes. My heart jerks to a stop, my hands freezing over my barely covered brand. I force myself to respond, “Just trying to even out my tan.” I continue applying foundation to the area, covering the evidence of my true identity as best I can. “I made the mistake of wearing ankle boots with a skirt and no sunscreen, now my feet are a completely different color than my legs and I want to wear sandals.”

It’s not a complete lie, my feet are less tan than the rest of me, but Nerissa’s body language is still tense. “Ankle boots? In the summer?” She scoffs as she strolls to my bed, taking a seat so she can watch me apply the liquid.

“This is an important family, Viviane.” I already know where this is headed. “Your ignorance of fashion makes us look completely common. You cannot associate yourself with us if you’re going to dress like some lowly omega or bottom feeder.”

I try not to react, bottom feeder is a universal slur for mermaids. It’s illogical and inaccurate, but when isn’t discrimination?

“I plan on marrying Caspian Shaw one day,” Nerissa continues, referring to the Nightshade Alpha’s son. “I can’t be connected to second-class citizens.”

“I’m sorry, Nerissa.” I lie, wanting to distract her. “You’re right. I really could use your help with my style.”

“Well for one thing you could get rid of those hideous shades.”

My eyes have been slowly recovering, but I still find it so difficult to see in the light that I walk with a staff and keep dark sunglasses on indoors and out.

I sigh, unamused. “You know I can’t see well, Nerissa.”

“I don’t care how bad your sight is, you look ridiculous.” When I don’t budge she throws her hands in the air, abruptly standing. “I can’t help you if you’re going to be unreasonable.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

Her eyes roll back into her skull as she glides from the room, muttering something about cat shifters and riff raff under her breath.

I almost laugh, finishing my task and deciding to go check in on Mom. Maybe today I’ll be able to get her to take some food.

Just as I turn toward the door, Mordred appears, standing in the exact spot his daughter had occupied a few minutes ago. However where her features had been grimacing with suspicion, his were warm and inviting.

“She’s right, you know.” He says, using a tone I can’t remember hearing from him before. “You have such beautiful eyes.”

Something about his demeanor raises gooseflesh on my arms, “Thank you.” I say tentatively.

Mordred steps inside, closing the door behind him. “I mean your mother’s are lovely, but yours,” He croons reverently, “Yours are like a clear tropical sea. I’ve never seen anything like them.”

I shrug uneasily, “Genetics.” My pulse is racing, my instincts warning me to get away from this man immediately. “Well, I was just about to go see my Mom.”

I try to move past him, but a heavy arm blocks me. With a cruel smirk, Mordred turns and flips the deadbolt, locking us in. “You’re not going anywhere, Viviane.”