Harlow
“What are you talking about? Why would you do that to me?”
What kind of mother would take their child’s memories and leave them in a strange place to fend for themselves?
Didn’t she love me at all?
“When you were a little girl, you dreamed of this place. You see... when you were eight years old, I took you from our mountain home,”
“Wait,” I hold my hand up to stop her talking. “We didn’t live under the sea?”
Nesaea shakes her head. “We lived in the mountains with my husband.”
“Oh,” I mumble. Knowing Nesaea is a Sea Nymph, I just assumed she lived beneath the sea.
“You sound disappointed.” Nesaea smiles.
“I’m not.” I refrain from rolling my eyes.
“My husband belonged in the mountains. I followed him there as is the way with mates.”
I want to ask about my birth father, but
