by Erin Rhew
Grant grimaced. “I’m sorry about him. He’s always had a sharp tongue.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
But Samson’s words had stung. Wil had managed to spoil his relationship with Layla, and the one he’d agreed to attempt with Mia appeared rocky at best. He stood to lose Layla, his daughter, and Mia. The idea stalked his waking and sleeping hours, leaving him both exhausted and terrified.
Vespa slipped her small hand inside his. “Werrick’s here.”
The Elder entered the main hall, the black of his robe in stark contrast with the green garments of the Voltons. His beady eyes traveled around the room until they landed upon Wil. Werrick started his way until Volton Mil, the one who’d cared for Wil on their last visit, hindered the Elder’s progress.
“Elder Werrick, to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?” Though Mil sounded pleasant on the surface, a hardness bubbled underneath.
“Step aside, Mil. I’m here for the king of Etherea.” Elder Werrick shoved the other man aside and continued toward Wil.
Wil straightened and hauled himself up to his full height. He dwarfed the incoming Elder. When Vespa’s hand tightened in his, Wil applied gentle pressure and hoped she’d be reassured.
“Elder Werrick.” Wil kept his tone hard.
“King Wilhelm.”
“Did the queen send you?” The sneer slid off Werrick’s face. This time, Wil smiled, pleased to see the Elder falter.
Werrick recovered. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh, I believe you do.” Grant stepped beside Wil, his expression menacing.
The Elder waved his hand as if to erase the previous conversation. “I need to see Layla.”
“She’s busy right now. Would you like to wait in my room until she returns?” Vespa smiled, but Wil detected her insincerity.
“I’ll wait here.”
Vespa leaned in and batted her eyelashes. “With all due respect, Elder, your presence here has caused a bit of an uproar. Would you prefer to be constantly accosted by curious Voltons, or would you rather retreat to the privacy of my rooms?” Wil stifled a laugh as his sister wound the unsuspecting Elder around her finger.
Werrick narrowed his eyes and tapped his chin. “Fine. I suppose you’re right.”
Wil bit his lip to suppress a grin. As most people did, Elder Werrick had misunderstood Vespa. Her sweet, innocent expressions often lulled people into a false sense of security. Though Wil didn’t know what she had planned, he let her take the lead. Vespa curled her arm through the crux of Werrick’s and chattered as she led him down the hall. Wil and Grant followed.
Grant leaned in. “What’s she doing?”
“I have no idea.” Wil shook his head and grinned. “I’m certain she has a plan though.”
When they reached Vespa’s room, she turned to Wil and Grant and winked.
“Boys, why don’t you stay outside? I think the Elder will be more comfortable if you aren’t lording over him while he waits.” Her voice dripped with a false sweetness the Elder didn’t seem to notice.
Grant kissed her cheek. “Will you be all right?”
“Of course.” She patted his chest before slipping into her room alone with the head of the Ecclesiastics.
* * *
Wil paced up and down the hallway outside of Vespa’s door. Grant sat against the wall, but every few minutes, he stood and made a motion to break down the door, stopping only right before his fist smashed into it. What started out as humorous to Wil had now become concerning.
“What is taking so long? What could she possibly be doing in there?” Grant knocked his forehead against the doorframe.
“Your guess is as good as mine.” Wil pivoted and began his obsessive march back down the hall anew.
When he saw Volton Holt and Layla coming toward him, he froze mid-step. Longing, piercing and bittersweet, stabbed him. But the expression on her face, her genuine happiness, soothed the ache just a bit.
Layla rushed forward, her joy replaced with worry when she caught sight of him. “What’s going on?”
As Wil explained, Layla’s purple eyes sparked with anger. “With Vespa? What were you two thinking leaving her alone with that man?”
“She can handle herself.” Wil spoke with a confidence he didn’t feel.
Layla growled. “You said that about Nash and look what happened to him. He’s—”
Vespa opened the door. She peeked out and grinned. The impish twinkle in her eyes belied their wide-eyed innocence. Wil had seen the same look a million times growing up.
He tilted his head. “What did you do?”
“Come in here.” She opened the door, but only enough so they could squeeze through. Quickly, she closed it behind them.
Elder Werrick lay on the bed, unmoving.
Wil rushed over. “Did you kill him?”
Vespa gasped. “Of course not. How could you even ask me that? I just put him to sleep.”
“Like your mother did with Wil?” Layla crossed the room and peered down at Werrick.
“Sort of. I told him to stay asleep until I ask him to wake.”
Volton Holt lifted Werrick’s eyelids and took his pulse. He grunted and nodded before dropping the Elder’s arm back down on the bed. “The Ecclesiastics will consider this an act of war. We’ve essentially kidnapped their leader.”
Vespa lifted her chin. “Blame it on me. I’m the one who did it.”
“No.” Wil shook his head. “Tell everyone the Elder fell ill and is being cared for here.”
“I’m no medical Volton,” Holt sighed. “Mil, the head of the medics, will insist on providing care. We can’t hide what’s been done once he becomes involved.”
Vespa slid a strand of hair behind her ear and smoothed it. “Can we say he’s helping you with a black arts study?”
“Perhaps, but how will we explain why he never leaves this room? He would need to accompany me to my quarters and work rooms for the story to hold.”
Vespa brightened. “I can move him. He’s under my Alteration. I can tell him to get up, walk into the main hall, and announce he’s assisting you with a study. Then I’ll just have him walk to your rooms. We can house him there for the time being.”
“You can do that?” Holt leaned back as if Vespa might sic her powers on him.
Wil almost laughed. The Volton held an esteemed position, leader of the black arts, yet he balked at the notion of an Alteration.
Vespa raised her chin. “Of course I can.”
Wil’s amusement disappeared as the reality of his sister’s actions crashed down on him. “Why did you do this, Vespa?”
She bit her lip. “I wanted to kill him for what he’s done to us, but you said we couldn’t. I thought we might at least be able to extract information from him, especially since he’s working for the queen.”
“Working for the queen?” Volton Holt sat down on the edge of the bed. “If what you’re saying is true, Werrick may be able to provide the information I need to bring down Cataleen.”
Vespa beamed.
Wil sighed. “Okay. Okay. Wake him up, and get him to Volton Holt’s quarters without arousing suspicion.”
Vespa leaned over the Elder and whispered into his ear. His eyes popped open, his gaze flying around the room. “What have you done to me?”
“You’re currently immobilized.” Vespa’s cheery tone did not match the severity of the situation.
Werrick’s arm twitched but failed to move further. He let out a frustrated grunt. “You’re going to let them do this to me, Volton? Me—the head of the Ecclesiastics? You know this means war. And I’ve got a secret weapon on my side.”
Holt’s body stiffened. “By ‘secret weapon’, are you referring to your alliance with the Outlander queen? That’s a violation of the Ecclesiastics’ vow of neutrality. I doubt your brothers will want to go to war once they find out what you’ve been doing.”
Werrick narrowed his eyes into small, beady slits. Before he could speak a
nother word, Layla stepped between Holt and the bed, obscuring her father from the Elder’s view. “It’s no fun to be at the mercy of someone else’s whim, is it?”
“Why you little—”
Wil grasped the Elder’s chin to turn his face away from Layla. “You’ll stop now if you know what’s good for you.” He motioned to his sister. “Let’s do this, Vespa.”
She bent down and whispered in the Elder’s ear again. His face softened and relaxed. Following Vespa’s instructions, Werrick rose from the bed and made his way into the hallway. The group followed along behind him.
“Will this work?” Layla’s hand brushed Wil’s when she leaned in to speak. His pulse quickened.
“Vespa is very powerful. It will work.”
Upon reaching the main hall, Werrick spread his arms wide. His grin stretched the width of his face. “Sorry for my hasty departure earlier.” His booming voice froze the Voltons in place. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve come here in the spirit of cooperation. For too long, the Voltons and Ecclesiastics have been at odds. We each stick to our side of the Borderland and try to have as little as possible to do with each other. But I want to change that. I want to work in harmony.”
Wil resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands and groan. He oscillated between amusement at the Elder’s ridiculous speech and terror that their ruse would be discovered.
Werrick’s enormous grin remained on his face as he continued. “In the spirit of cooperation, I plan to join Volton Holt in a black arts project. Our study, as I’m sure you understand, will require the utmost secrecy. And since I know the presence of an Ecclesiastic disrupts your normal routine here in Volton, I promise to stay out of sight as much as possible.” The Elder turned to his guards. “Please go back to the Ecclesiastics and tell them I will remain in Volton for a while. They should not worry. Brother Sutton should be able to handle my duties until I return.”
When the guards blinked at one another, the smile slid off Werrick’s face. “I said go!” The Ecclesiastic brothers jumped at his tone and scampered out the door without a second glance.
The Elder bowed his head. “I apologize for my outburst, Voltons. I must be tired.” He motioned to Vespa. “Help me to my room, dear. I need to lie down.”
* * *
Though Wil longed to see Elder Werrick crack under Vespa’s interrogation, his feet carried him to Mia’s door. His sense of responsibility and concern over his daughter’s health won out over his curiosity.
He’d never heard of a three-month pregnancy before, and he didn’t know what to expect in terms of Mia’s progress. But he felt certain the amount of stress she’d endured of late benefitted neither her nor the baby. Despite his conflicted feelings for Mia, his devotion to his daughter and her well-being remained forefront in his mind.
Wil cracked open her door, not wanting to disturb Mia if she lay sleeping. To his surprise, laughter emanated from within. Curious, he peeked inside and found Samson sitting on Mia’s bed, leaning in toward her. Her blue eyes danced as she laughed. Wil couldn’t recall a time she’d looked that relaxed in his presence.
As he watched, he noted the way their heads leaned in toward one another, drawn together by a force neither appeared to recognize. Samson lifted Mia’s hand, kissed it, and then threaded their fingers together.
Having seen enough, Wil closed the door. Conflicting emotions assailed him. On the one hand, encouraging Mia to be with Samson behooved him and left him free to pursue Layla unhindered. But if Mia married Samson, Wil stood a real chance of losing his child. He couldn’t risk that. Did Mia’s heart volley between her desire and her responsibility as his did? She claimed to love him yet spent her free time in Samson’s company.
Brushing aside those unanswerable questions, he headed toward Volton Holt’s room. He’d promised Nash he would get information to help free Zarina, and he intended to hold up his end of the deal. Since his brother had sacrificed his freedom and future for this truth, Wil refused to let him down.
When Wil opened the door, he found all his traveling companions, minus Samson and Mia, congregated. Ethereals, Outlanders, and Vanguards all clustered around the Elder, who lay motionless but awake on Volton Holt’s couch. Werrick’s face contorted with unconcealed rage.
“Are you really vapid enough to think I’ll tell you anything, girl ?” Werrick spat the taunt at Vespa, though he glared at each person gathered.
Vespa lorded over the prostrate Elder. “I want to give you the opportunity to do the right thing before I force you.”
His whole life, he’d viewed Vespa as his “baby” sister—in need of his protection. But she’d grown into her own of late and reminded him of their mother—regal and capable. He would have to change his way of thinking and view her as the powerful ally she’d become.
“Play your mind games with me all you want, princess. I told you before, I know very little.” Werrick closed his eyes as if surrendering to his fate.
Vespa shrugged. “Just remember, you had a choice.”
She concentrated on his face. The Elder’s eyes popped open in alarm. Wil watched in fascination as Vespa’s mind reached inside Werrick’s.
“Tell us what we want to know about the Outlander queen, Elder.”
“She’s wrong about the Prophecy.”
Wil moved beside Vespa. “In what way?”
“About the second part. She thinks…no, you all think, the Halfling is Layla and the one of unusual fortitude is Nash, but you’re wrong.” He laughed. Even in an Altered state, he seemed to enjoy having the upper hand in whatever limited capacity he could muster.
“Who is the one with unusual fortitude?” Wil’s heart leapt then plummeted. Even if the Prophecy didn’t refer to Nash and Layla, he still couldn’t be with her because of Mia and the baby.
“You’re only half right. Nash is part of the Prophecy, but he’s the Halfling.” Elder Werrick blinked—a slow, lazy motion.
“Who completes the other half?” Layla joined Wil and Vespa at Werrick’s side.
“You know who.”
“Who is it?” Vespa gripped the Elder’s shoulders. “I command you to tell me.”
“You know who.”
Vespa shook him. “Tell us now!”
Werrick’s eyes rolled back into his head. Convulsions racked his body, but Vespa still held on.
Wil covered his sister’s hands with his own and eased them off the Elder. “Vespa, stop. Please.”
Vespa knocked Wil back. “Tell me, Elder.” Blood trickled from Werrick’s nose.
Wil grabbed his sister by the shoulders. “Stop this, Vespa. You did a truth Alteration. He’s telling the truth—maybe not the whole truth, but a truth—so you must stop. Remember yourself.”
Her face, full of rage and frustration, relaxed. She collapsed into his arms. “I’m sorry, Wil.”
“It’s okay.” He rubbed her hair. “You know anger destabilizes the Alternation. You’re so powerful that you could easily damage his mind, like Father did to you. You’d never forgive yourself if you did that to someone else.”
She nodded against his chest. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
He softened. “Thank you for trying to get that information for us.”
“I want to help save Etherea.”
He smiled. “I know. And you did.”
She glanced up at him, with that same guilty grin he recognized from childhood. He noticed the deep circles under her eyes. The Alteration had drained her almost as much as it had the Elder. “Why don’t you go lie down for a while?”
She nodded.
He passed his sister to Grant, who took her from the room.
When the door shut, Wil turned to the gathered group. Four astounded faces stared back. At first he didn’t know what to say, so he busied himself with wiping the blood from the Elder’s face.
Layla let out a low whistle. “So…what was that?”
“We have to be careful with our emotions during Alterations, or we can adversel
y affect the subject. The younger we are, the stronger our feelings feed into it. She lost control. I’m sorry, but it happens to the best of us.”
Layla met his gaze. The rest of the room and all the stress contained within it seemed to vanish, leaving the two of them alone. He recalled the Alteration he’d performed on her, vastly different than the one Vespa had just executed. His love for Layla had colored every moment of it. He sighed. Regardless of the Elder’s cryptic message about the Prophecy, they could only be together now in his dreams.
Layla whispered over the shallowly breathing Elder, “I wanted him to die. I wanted Vespa to kill him. Does that make me a terrible person?”
“No, it doesn’t. I wanted him to die too.”
“But you stopped her. I wouldn’t have.”
“You would have. You wouldn’t have wanted Vespa to live with that guilt.” He cast her a wary smile. “And you wouldn’t have wanted to give the Elder a peaceful death.”
The left corner of her mouth lifted. “You’re right. I want to see his face when I slip my sword into his stomach.”
“Now that’s the Vanguard girl I know and love.”
They both froze. He’d said it…aloud. Heat rose to his face, mirrored by her own pink cheeks. He glanced away.
Behind them, Holt cleared his throat. “I think I know what the Elder meant. I know who has the unusual fortitude.”
Chapter Twelve
Layla
Layla’s knee bounced up and down as she awaited her father’s return—an insufficient release for the tension building inside her. Werrick’s veiled messages spun through her mind. If they’d made an error in their assumptions about the Halfling and the one with fortitude, she and Wil might still be destined to be together. Except….
As if summoned by Layla’s thoughts, Mia entered the room with Samson right behind her. The Outlander girl’s coloring had improved since the last time Layla had seen her. She laughed at something Samson had said before stopping short when her gaze landed on Wil. Samson bumped into her but caught and righted her before she fell.
Mia and Wil stared at one another. Their uncomfortable silence soaked the room in palpable tension. Wil cleared his throat, stood, and offered his seat. Mia accepted with a tentative, grateful smile. Layla’s knee bounced harder.