Page 2 of Fionn (Starlight Mermen #1 | Starlight Alien Mail Order Brides #7)

Fionn

T he planet's eyes were set on me and all I wanted to do was swim away as fast as I could.

Hiding under a bushel of algae sounded better than ever.

Internally, I was shaking, but I desperately hoped that the matriarchs wouldn't pick up on my weakness.

My greenskin quivered ever so slightly, both from my own anxiety and the currents created by my clutch-brothers' suppressed trembling.

At least I was not the only one who was terrified.

And at least I was not alone. My brothers were with me.

The Matriarchs were taking their sweet time, discussing our fate amongst themselves.

Lamina, the oldest and supposedly wisest, was scrolling through the test data on her tablet, her cyan lips moving as she voicelessly muttered to herself.

I wished I knew what she was saying. Was there hope for me, for us, or was all lost already?

Time oozed along as slow as a mud tide. Couldn't they have discussed this before we were called before the Matriarchal Panel?

Maybe it was for dramatic effect. They knew as well as I did that millions of finmen around the world were watching.

During the six days of mate selection, barely anyone worked.

Everyone was glued to their viewscreens, waiting to find out which young males would be the lucky ones that mooncrossing.

Until today, I'd been one of them. It was a spectacle that brought us all together in a week of entertainment, excitement and lots of snacks, yet it also reminded us of our dire situation.

The Matriarchal Panel hadn't been installed for entertainment purposes.

It was all about survival, pure and simple.

Lamina cleared her throat. A tiny row of bubbles rose from her wrinkled greenskin as she repositioned herself in her throne-like chair.

"The Panel has come to a decision," she announced gravely. "Fionn Arken-Clutch of Eynhallow, are you ready to hear our judgement?"

I was not. Not ready. Not ever. Thirty mooncrossings of waiting had not prepared me for this moment.

My greenskin was now visibly fluttering in the current.

I no longer cared that they could see how nervous I was.

The decision had been made. The time to try and convince them of my worthiness was over.

"Fionn," Rainse hissed from my left.

I realised the Matriarchs were still waiting for my response.

"I am ready," I said gravely. A bigger lie had never been told.

Lamina pressed her thumb to the tablet before looking straight at me.

Her emerald eyes – almost the same shade as my own – bored into my soul, searching for weakness.

I was torn open, broken shards scattered across the ocean floor, while Lamina pillaged my deepest secrets and desires.

She didn't bother putting me back together.

"You are unworthy." Her voice echoed through the brightly lit hall as her words cut deep into me.

"We have found you unworthy of the honour of being assigned a mate.

Tomorrow, you will go back to your assigned profession and continue your life as an unmated male.

Your test results will be sent to you later. We are very sorry."

No, she wasn't.

It wasn't unexpected. Nobody I knew had ever been assigned a mate. It just didn't happen to finfolk like me. Yet there had been that tiny bubble of hope, a quivering current at the back of my head that cold logic hadn't been able to soothe.

I was to be unmated for the rest of my life. No female, ever. Alone. Always alone. My clutch-brothers would remain the only family I'd ever have.

I wanted to cry. Shout. Tear down this hall and its panel of old females who thought themselves above me.

Somewhere beyond my grief and rage, my clutch-brothers were given the same verdict. No mates.

We were shooed out of the hall by impatient guards. I swam blindly, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. I would not let them see my hurt. Once I was home, in our cosy underwater cave, I would let my emotions free rein. For now, I had to keep it together a little longer.

"Fuck them." Cerban swam up to me, his face mirroring my outrage. "We never stood a chance."

I laughed, my voice harsh and alien. "Of course not. If it wasn't enshrined in law, we'd never even been given the opportunity to be in front of the Panel."

"What now?" Rainse asked. He sounded more depressed than I'd ever heard him.

I reached out and grasped his hand, then that of Cerban. "Home. Let's go home."