The Fulfillment

by Erin Rhew

  “Ok.”

  “Let’s go. Remember, she looks like an Ethereal—slender with long, blonde hair.”

  Layla’s eyebrows furrowed. “Slender?”

  Wil cursed his own stupidity. Though she’d promised to remain in the carriage, he’d been foolish to bring her so close to the action.

  Layla twirled the necklace Holt had given her. “You can’t blame yourself, Wil.”

  “I should never have mentioned the carriage idea.”

  “She would have found a way to do what she wanted with or without you. We both know that. Mia’s headstrong.”

  Mars pointed to a nearby blonde woman. “Is that her?”

  Wil squinted. “I don’t think so.” He paused. “Wait, I have an idea.” He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Reina!”

  Within moments, Wil heard Samson’s anguished cries. He bolted toward the sound, Layla and Mars close behind.

  Samson

  Samson caught Mia as the impact of the arrow knocked her backward. He eased her down to the ground.

  “Mia.” He shook her shoulder. “Mia.”

  Her eyes fluttered open. “Samson.” A smile spread across her face. She raised an arm and patted his cheek. “My Samson.”

  “I am your Samson. I’ve always been your Samson.” He kissed her forehead. “Oh First Ones, Mia.”

  She tensed. Her eyes expanded before they closed.

  He shook her again, but her head lolled around. “Mia.”

  Vanguard anger welled up inside him. Hot, boiling rage spewed from every pore. He rose from the ground like monster bent on destruction. With speed propelled by his fury, Samson charged the Vanguard bowman.

  The archer nocked an arrow and pointed the tip, but Samson continued on his manic charge. The arrow released, connecting with Samson’s shoulder. He noticed the sting of it no more than he’d notice that of a bee. He barreled on. Another arrow landed in his chest, another in his leg, and one in his neck, but his tunnel vision focused solely on the man who’d shot Mia. Warm, thick blood oozed from his wounds, but he ignored them.

  He crashed into the soldier, knocking him to the ground with a hard thud. Samson punched the Vanguard over and over, his hands moving faster than his eyes could see. His blood mingled with the other man’s. Reaching down, Samson withdrew the arrow from his leg and stabbed the solider with it. He pulled the arrow from his shoulder, lifted the bloody shaft, and drove it into the other man’s throat. The soldier grew limp beneath Samson, but he kept pummeling the body.

  “Samson!” Layla’s voice drew him from his crazed assault.

  He glanced back. His sister, Mars, and Wil surrounded Mia’s body.

  “Set up a perimeter around the king and princess,” Layla screamed at nearby soldiers. They gathered around the group to form a shield.

  Samson dropped the dead bowman and staggered toward his sister and Mia. The wound on his neck leaked blood with every beat of his heart. Layla blanched. She pushed through the protective wall and rushed up to catch him before he fell.

  His legs wobbled as he tried to walk with Layla’s support. “Take me to her.”

  Layla dragged him over and laid him down on the ground beside Mia. His beloved shifted back into herself. He turned his head and gazed at her reddish-brown hair. He’d never seen anyone so lovely in his whole life. His heart seized.

  “Samson.” Layla sounded so far away. He blocked out the sound of her voice as he concentrated on Mia’s features.

  Sliding his hand across the dirt toward hers, he intertwined their fingers. A slow smile spread across his face.

  “I love you, Mia.” He coughed through the thick substance in his throat. “I have since the moment I saw you by the river, and I always will.”

  His breathing became labored. Inhaling required a Herculean effort. Layla and Mars’ worried faces hovered above him. He turned from them back to Mia. Her blue eyes opened. When she saw him beside her, she smiled.

  “Samson.”

  He struggled to hear her muffled words.

  “Samson, I lo—”

  His world went black.

  Wil

  “No, Samson. No.” Layla fell upon her brother’s body. Wil leapt up and ran over to comfort her, but she pushed him away.

  “Samson?” Mia attempted to lift her head.

  Wil swallowed hard against the mass in his throat. “I’m sorry, Mia. He’s gone.”

  “What? No, he can’t be dead. He can’t be.” Tears streamed down her face. She raised a hand to wipe them away, but it fell limp against the ground.

  Layla’s wails drew the attention of Grant, who rushed over. After the soldiers let him into the circle, the two siblings clung to one another and sobbed. Wil stepped back and returned to Mia’s side. He cradled her head as she wept.

  Mars crouched down beside Wil and examined Mia. His lips pursed.

  Wil leaned in and whispered so Mia could not hear. “Tell me honestly, how is she?”

  His brown eyes shimmered. “Her wound is fatal.” He pointed at the red spot spreading across her shirt.

  An overwhelming sense of sorrow overtook Wil. One tragedy after another had struck Mia’s life, culminating in this moment—her own death. He rubbed her hair as she continued to cry. Her tears soaked the leg of his pants.

  Wil feared asking Mars, but he had to know the answer. “And the baby?’

  “I can remove the child, but I can’t make any promises.”

  Wil rubbed Mia’s cheek. “Mia.” The lackluster gleam in her now pale blue eyes signaled her rapid deterioration. “The baby—”

  She placed her hands across her stomach. “She’s strong, Wil. I know what you’re asking, and the answer is yes.”

  “You’re so brave.” Wil smoothed back her hair.

  Volton Mars smiled down at Mia. “Wil’s right. You’re very brave. I need you to take this medicine which will block feeling to the lower portion of your body. Don’t be afraid if you can’t feel your legs. It’s only the medicine.”

  “My legs are numb right now.”

  Mars held the vile as she sipped. “Wil, join me.” The two men moved to Mia’s feet. “I’m going to hand the baby to you once I’ve gotten her out. Take this.” The Volton handed Wil a white cloth. “Wrap her in that to keep her warm.”

  Layla wiped her tears and knelt by Mia’s side. She held the Outlander’s hand. “Samson loved you, and he loved your baby. He would be so proud of you.”

  Mia smiled. “Thank you, Layla. I tried to tell him I loved him too.”

  “He knew.” Layla stroked Mia’s hand. “He knew.”

  Wil fought back his own tears. When he chose to wage this war against Vance, he knew lives would be lost, but he never expected Samson or Mia to be the ones to fall. Mia would never know her daughter; their daughter would never know her mother.

  “I’m ready.” Mars poked Mia’s stomach. “Did you feel that?”

  “No.” She closed her eyes.

  Wil gathered a small measure of comfort in the fact that Mia wouldn’t suffer thanks to Mars’ pain-inhibiting potion. He watched as his oldest friend, the man who brought him into the world, made the initial incision.

  With careful precision, Mars cut through the layers of muscle, pulled back Mia’s skin, reached inside, and withdrew a small, blue-tinted bundle. At first, the baby did not cry. Her tiny fists flailed, but she made no noise.

  Fear exploded inside Wil—every piece of his body tingled from the force of it. Mars wiped his hands on another cloth then rubbed the baby. He suctioned out her nose and mouth with urgency and care. Then Wil heard the most beautiful sound—his daughter’s cry. She sucked in air and screamed it back out lustily. Wil laughed, tears in his eyes.

  Mars handed the baby to Wil. “I’ve always heard that daughters are like flowers in that they fill the world with beauty. Here is your blossom.”

  Wil wrapped his daughter in the cloth Mars had given him. He longed to count her fingers and toes, marveling at each tiny facet of her, but he k
new he’d have time to do those things later.

  He gazed at her little face peeking out from the wrapping and never wanted to take his eyes off her. Her tuft of brown hair with the slightest glimmer of red matched Mia’s, but her nose and mouth came from him. Seeing a fraction of himself reflected in this little person awed him.

  He shook himself from his own revelry, stood, and knelt down beside Mia’s head. She needed this time with their daughter. He had a lifetime while she had mere minutes.

  Layla helped Wil fold Mia’s arms into a cradle. He lay the baby in the space and supported the dying mother’s arms.

  Mia’s eyes fluttered open. She glanced down at her newborn. Wil stroked his daughter’s head. “She has your hair color.”

  Mia’s own tears shimmered. “She does, doesn’t she?”

  Layla brushed back Mia’s hair. “She’s beautiful like her mother.”

  Mia gasped. She arched her back and closed her eyes. When they reopened, she focused on Layla. “I’m dying.”

  Layla nodded because words failed her.

  Tears streaked down Mia’s cheeks. “At least I’ll get to be with my family…” Her voice broke. “And Samson.”

  “I’m sure he’s up there waiting. Impatiently, of course.” She forced a smile through her tears. His loss had shattered pieces of her heart she knew would never heal.

  Mia choked out a laugh. “He knows no other way. Remember in the carriage, when I told you I’d take care of Wil?”

  “I remember.”

  “Well, now it’s your turn. You take care of Wil, and my daughter. I wanted to be the one to do it.” A small sob escaped. “ut I can’t. So, it’s you, Layla. I think it’s always been you.”

  Layla’s shoulders slumped as she started to cry. “I will, Mia. I promise. I’ll make them both happy, like you and Samson would have done.”

  Mia shuddered as death swiped at her. “I love her so much and miss her already.” She planted light kisses all around the baby’s face. Another tremor tore through her. Mortality clawed at the door of her soul.

  Wil touched Mia’s cheek. “I’ll make sure she knows everything about you, Mia. She will know how brave you were and how valiantly you fought for those you loved.”

  “Thank you, Wil.” She turned to Layla. “Take care of him. And my daughter…Reina.”

  The new mother turned her head and kissed her daughter once more. As the final quake ravaged her body, Mia let out a long, slow exhale, and then she slipped away.

  Nash

  Nash waved a hand up and down in front of the guard’s face, but the soldier did not react at all. Even though Nash had spent his entire life surrounded by Ethereals, he still marveled at their Alteration abilities. With the power of their combined minds, his mother and sister had managed to freeze Vance’s entire army and even some members of their own.

  Rex walked up and down the rows of statuesque men in wonderment. “Can they hear me?”

  “I believe so. You told my mother and sister that’s what you wanted, so I’m sure that’s what they gave you. They’re very good at their craft.”

  Rex nodded. “So they are. Perhaps we should have placed them at the front of the battle instead of the back.”

  “Perhaps.” But he knew neither of them meant those words. They were Vanguards at their core. Even though Vance had been a traitor and usurper, he deserved to die fighting—a Vanguard death—not rendered helpless by an Ethereal Alteration.

  Rex walked to the middle of the battlefield. “Vanguards, your former king Vance is dead.” He faltered. “I come to you now in the spirit of reconciliation. The Fulfillment has finally arrived, and our long-awaited peace sits just over the horizon. On this battlefield today, you have seen the Ethereal king, the Outlander queen, and the true Vanguard king fighting side-by-side to bring about the outcome we all desire. If you will stand with us, we welcome you. But if your goal is to continue this war, you will die here. Your minds will be restored to you in a moment. If you wish to join the new, peaceful Vanguard nation, lay down your swords. If not, may the First Ones keep you.”

  His father’s speech complete, Nash ran back to the Ethereal line to tell his mother and sister to release the soldiers’ minds. They stood together, their hands clasped and faces determined. With their blonde hair whipping in the breeze, they looked like mirror images of one another. Nash smiled. The Ethereal people may not possess the physical endowments of the Vanguards, but they still exemplified their own brand of strength.

  He’d heard the word “Halfling” used in a derogatory manner, but he saw his half-Vanguard, half-Ethereal lineage as an asset.

  “Mother.” He tapped her on the arm. “Father is ready.”

  Sansolena’s body relaxed as she released the minds she’d been holding. Vespa followed suit. Both blinked several times before turning to him with matching brown eyes, alive with worry.

  The queen whipped her head around. “Where is Wil? He left here in a panic.”

  A part of him wanted to join the search for his brother, but the other part felt called back to his father. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him. I’m sorry, but I have to get back to Father. If any Vanguards elect to fight, I want to be standing by his side.”

  “Go.” His mother nodded her assent. “We’ll find Wil.”

  Nash raced back to the front, worried he’d find his father embroiled in a fierce battle with those resistant to peace. Instead, he found a large pile of swords and an even larger group of men and women bowing to Rex. Nash breathed a sigh of relief. He turned to head back to his mother and join the search for Wil.

  “Wait, Nash. Come here.” His father waved him over.

  Confused, Nash followed his father’s instructions. Zarina appeared by his side. Smiling, she linked her arm through his.

  Rex put an arm around Nash’s shoulder. “Vanguards, this man is my son. I am assuming a position in Etherea to ensure peace between our countries, so Nash is your new king.”

  A surprised murmur rippled through the crowd. Nash half expected the people to rise up and revolt, but they stayed still.

  “Me?” Nash whispered his question so only Rex could hear.

  “Of course, you, Nash. You were born to be a king.” He spread his arms wide toward his former subjects and cheered. “King Nash and Queen Zarina!”

  “To the king and queen!” The crowd stood and bowed again, this time to Nash and Zarina.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Layla

  When Layla entered Wil’s room, she found the wet nurse, Meeket, changing Reina’s diaper. She stood by the bed and watched the woman work. She had tried several times to move at the other woman’s pace, but Meeket’s efficiency only highlighted Layla’s inadequacy.

  “Tell King Wil I’ll be back in a little while to get the baby.” Meeket handed the freshly changed and wrapped bundle to Layla.

  “I’ll tell him.”

  The wet nurse bustled out of the room, leaving Layla alone with the child. She peered down into the blanket. Curious blue eyes roamed over her face. “You look more and more like your mama every day.” Layla swayed back and forth. “Her name was Mia, and she was so brave. She always fought for those she loved, including you.”

  The baby gurgled. Layla smiled. She thought about the final words Mia whispered to her— Take care of him. And my daughter…Reina —and she wanted more than anything to uphold that promise. She yearned to join her life to Wil’s and the baby’s, but she had no idea if he desired the same thing.

  He’d been so busy since they’d gotten back from Vanguard—planning Mia and Samson’s funeral, holding meetings, and securing the peace they’d dreamed about for so long. She knew all those activities required his presence and attention, but she hoped she would find a chance to talk to him about their future soon. If only she could tell him how much he meant, how much she wanted to be with him, how very much she loved him. Layla sighed as she watched Reina’s eyelids grow heavy.

  While swaying the little one back and f
orth, Layla hummed a song her adoptive mother Lia, used to sing to her as a child. Lia…though she had not birthed Layla, she had loved her as if she had. As Layla kissed Reina’s tiny cheek, she felt closer to her adoptive mother than she ever had. Like Lia, Layla loved the bundle in her arms. She knew she could never replace Mia, and she didn’t want to, but she longed to have a place in the baby’s life…and in Wil’s.

  Wil

  Wil hauled himself down the corridor toward his room. For the past several weeks, he’d been consumed with the process of peace. Though Wil, Nash, and Iris now ran the Three Kingdoms, their peace accord required a great deal of negotiating and an abundance of new laws to be passed. That struggle, combined with Mia and Samson’s passing and his newborn daughter’s care, left him little energy by the end of the day.

  Despite his fatigue, Wil had resolved to talk to Layla. She’d been right beside him in the negotiations and always took turns caring for Reina, yet he hadn’t been able to talk to her about the one thing that pressed upon his heart—their future.

  He stepped through the outer door to his chambers and closed it gently behind him so he would not wake his daughter. Wil crept forward into his bedroom. Though the wet nurse insisted on keeping Reina with her overnight, he kept his daughter in his rooms during the evenings for as long as he could.

  As he entered his bedroom, he stopped in his tracks. Layla held his daughter in her arms and swayed her back and forth. He leaned against the doorframe, watching them with an indescribable joy. Layla kissed Reina’s forehead while telling her the story of Samson and the tree. Wil smiled.

  She noticed him leaning in the doorway and motioned for him to enter. “Come in. She’s asleep.”

  “I’m sorry for staring, but you two made such a beautiful picture, I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  Layla flushed. As always, he found her pink cheeks endearing. She slid over to the cradle and placed the sleeping child inside. Before Layla walked away, she planted another light kiss on Reina’s cheek. Wil loved her even more for the tender care she gave his daughter.

  Layla started toward the door. “Well, I guess this is goodnight.”