by Erin Rhew
Layla heard the warning in the Elder’s claim. The hairs on her arm stood up. She’d seen what Werrick had done to Samson, so she harbored no illusions about her mother’s safety. Layla started to stand, but Grant placed a hand upon her arm.
“There are people out there who would rather kill you than make peace with the Ethereals,” he whispered.
Layla yanked her arm away. “Werrick is dangerous.”
“She’s my daughter.” Lia’s conviction rang out, rising clear and true.
Werrick turned just enough for Layla to catch a glimpse of the smile plastered upon his face. “Madam, with all respect, she is not your daughter.”
“I have raised her and loved her from the moment she appeared on my doorstep seventeen years ago. I may not have birthed her, but she’s my daughter all the same. Let her go. She belongs with her family.”
Werrick barked out a hard laugh. “She belongs to the First Ones, not you. The Fulfillment will go at once to Etherea, marry the Ethereal prince, and usher in the peace that has been absent for centuries.”
“No.” Lia lurched forward.
“Mother!” Layla and Grant screamed in unison.
A large Vanguard soldier stepped forward and bashed Lia on the back of the head with the hilt of his sword. She crumpled to the ground as a soft groan escaped her lips.
“Mother.” Layla croaked out the endearment while tears sprang to her eyes. She jumped up, ready to take on the whole Vanguard army to reach her fallen parent.
Grant pushed her down hard against the carriage seat. She kicked him with more viciousness than intended, her fear and anger providing extra force. Her brother knelt before her, grabbed the sides of her face, and forced her to look him in the eye.
“Stay for now and do your duty, Layla,” She heard his protective ferocity, loving and hating it in the same instant. “I’ll take care of our parents and alert you as soon as Samson is free.”
“I can’t leave her like that.” She stabbed an accusing finger at the window for emphasis.
“You don’t have a choice right now. They still have Samson.”
Layla closed her eyes to still her raging emotions. Her brother was right. If she wanted to save her family, she’d have to play along with Werrick for a little bit longer. She nodded her assent with a heavy heart.
“Remember what I said earlier. The Ethereals aren’t what you think.” Grant leaned in, planted a rough kiss on her cheek, and stepped out of the carriage.
She reached out to grab his hand. He stopped, turning around. With a tense look upon his face, her brother nodded, understanding her unspoken plea.
“I’ll take care of them all.” Grant shut the door, leaving only his oath to comfort her.
From the window, Layla watched as mayhem erupted outside. The unjustified injury of a much-loved and respected person like Lia Mantar sent the mob into an uproar. Others, who wanted to kill Layla more than they wanted to honor the First Ones, moved toward the carriage. Just as she reached forward to close the curtain against the scene, Elder Werrick flung open the door and jumped inside.
He beat on the wooden wall separating the coach from the driver and roared, “Go!”
* * * *
In the carriage, the Elder said very little except to explain they would be stopping by the castle of the Vanguard king, Rex, on the way to Etherea. After arriving and being greeted with little fanfare, Layla stumbled along as two of the king’s guards pushed her forward. To her smug satisfaction, a second set of soldiers shoved Werrick roughly down the hall beside her. The thought of standing before her king, whom she’d seen only once from a vast distance when she was seven, set her nerves on edge and made her stomach roil.
As the guards pulled her along, she tried not to gape, but the sheer grandness of the palace overwhelmed her. Rich, dark tapestries hung on the windows while painted children danced on the ceiling above her. Scowling faces of former kings glared down at her from their perch on the wall to her right. As in Medlin, vibrant ribbons lined the hallways in celebration of the Day of Dawning. Layla concentrated hard on every detail because focusing on the castle’s grandeur helped keep her mind off the real reason she was at the palace in the first place. The Fulfillment…
When the audience chamber door swung open, King Rex’s guards shoved Layla and Elder Werrick through it, throwing them to the ground in front of the throne. Layla stayed on her knees, though she stole a quick glance to observe her king. He stared down at her with formidable green eyes. She lowered her head in submission, her body quaking.
Elder Werrick rose to his feet, making a great show of brushing off his robe. “Why, King Rex, I’ve never received such horrible treatment. I am the Elder of the Ecclesiastics.”
“And I am the King of Vanguard. One of my riders preceded your arrival, so I know all about the riot you caused in Medlin.”
Layla’s lips twitched, threatening a smile, as the Elder started and stopped before settling on the right words. “Surely you don’t blame me for the unruly behavior of your subjects, King Rex.”
“You failed to follow the proper protocol for a Prophecy candidate, and you bashed an innocent woman on the head. I do not take these offenses lightly, Elder Werrick. We afford you Ecclesiastics a certain liberty because of your neutrality and your desire to find the Fulfillment. However, I am prepared to imprison you right now if you do not explain yourself to my satisfaction.” The king’s threat echoed throughout the room.
Despite Rex’s warning, Werrick appeared unaffected. He smiled the smarmy, conniving smile Layla had seen several times during their onerous journey together. The Elder paced back and forth, holding the conversation in a pregnant pause. Layla got the impression he enjoyed keeping his audience captive.
“Speak, Werrick, or I’ll have my guards throw you in a cell right now.” King Rex rose, drawing himself up to his full, intimidating height. Even from her position on the floor, Layla could feel the power he radiated.
“King Rex, I broke protocol because this girl…” Werrick paused, sighing as he offered his hand to Layla. Though she loathed the idea of touching him, she took it and stood. “This girl is the Fulfillment. No testing is required because the First Ones told me themselves.”
One of the king’s guards snickered, attempting to cover his action with a cough. King Rex shot the man a hard look. Nearly falling in his haste, the guard shuffled out of the room.
“The First Ones told you?” Even the king couldn’t hide his disbelief.
“Touch her, King. You will feel the power of the First Ones flowing through her,” Werrick insisted, shoving Layla’s hand forward.
The king observed her with his piercing gaze. At the risk of incurring his ire, she lifted her eyes to connect with his. Layla tried to convey to her king, her potential savior, the abuse she had suffered under the Elder’s care, but King Rex did not seem to understand her message. His hesitation clear, he reached out and touched her outstretched palm. The king’s large hand engulfed her smaller one. He squeezed, forcing her fingers together time and time again with no success. He frowned, and she knew he’d failed to activate the sensation Elder Werrick insisted she possessed.
“I feel nothing,” King Rex said after several tense moments.
Unfazed, Werrick continued, “My years spent studying the holy texts combined with my position as Elder gives me a unique ability to detect the often subtle messages from our First Ones.”
“I suppose so.” The king’s statement did not match his expression, which conveyed a clear lack of conviction.
“And as for the regretful situation with the injured woman, I truly believed she meant to hurt the girl. It’s my job to protect the Fulfillment until I turn her over to the Ethereals.”
“Liar!” Layla screamed. “That woman was my mother, and she posed no threat to me.”
“Silence.”
Layla shrank back from the force of the king’s words. She had hoped for assistance but instead managed to anger him. If nothing else, Layl
a prayed she had at least been successful in casting a shadow of suspicion across the Elder.
King Rex’s skeptical regard of the Ecclesiastic assured her that she had.
After allowing Rex the silence he demanded, Werrick spoke again. “My duty to the First Ones requires me to transport this girl to the Ethereals where she will marry the Ethereal prince.” He swallowed and lowered his head. Layla recognized the Elder’s false meekness, but did the king? “May I have your permission to do so?”
Layla’s focus vanished as the full impact of Werrick’s words hit her, erasing all other thoughts. She had known the Fulfillment would marry into the other side. She knew it, yet still the enormity of it, the sheer revulsion of it, overwhelmed her. Wife of the Ethereal prince? Her head swam over the ridiculous notion. How could she marry one of them? Layla remembered her brother’s words, let them soothe her. Grant knew something she didn’t…Layla had to trust that, though her neck muscles refused to unclench.
The king sighed, a deep, troubled sound. “We are all bound by the Prophecy of the First Ones, Elder Werrick. If she is the Fulfillment as you claim, I release her into your custody to be transported immediately to Etherea.”
With a scowl of distaste upon his face, the Elder managed a small bow. “Thank you, King Rex.”
Before another word could be spoken, the door to the audience chamber flew open. A young man strode into the room, his lips tight with anger. Behind him, a woman wearing the gaudiest dress Layla had ever seen hurried to catch up. They each had dark brown hair, but the shrewdness in their eyes most clearly marked them as kin. Though she’d never seen them before, Layla assumed them to be Queen Montessa and Prince Vance. Looking at them, she sensed a deep foreboding.
“Father, you can’t be serious,” the young man exclaimed. Layla held back the absurd sensation to laugh as his high-pitched, petulant whine struck her. “We cannot allow a Vanguard citizen to be transported to Etherea, much less marry their so-called prince.”
King Rex’s face deepened into a menacing scowl. Layla could see why Ethereals often ran from this man in battle. He looked imposing, but the prince did not appear to be at all phased by his father’s displeasure.
“Vance, that is enough.” The king’s deep growl rattled through Layla, yet the prince continued his advance.
The queen cleared her throat. “Perhaps the Elder is mistaken, Rex. Shouldn’t we at least wait until the girl has been tested?” Layla caught the false sweetness in the queen’s tone and wondered if the king did too. How could a great man miss such obvious clues?
“That’s enough from both of you.” The king’s face turned bright red with fury. “Guards, escort Prince Vance and Queen Montessa out of my sight.”
Several guards stepped forward, working hard to subdue the struggling prince and queen. As the soldiers hauled a flailing Vance away, Layla watched his face turn purple with indignation. The prince focused his malicious, unrelenting gaze upon his father.
“A true Vanguard wouldn’t make peace with Ethereals. A true Vanguard slaughters his enemies without mercy. You want peace? We’ll only have peace when we erase the Ethereal plague from this world!” Vance’s maniacal screams followed him down the corridor.
Before the doors closed, Queen Montessa joined her son’s cries, “You’ve made the wrong choice, Rex. Mark my words, you will rue this day!”
Chapter Three
Layla
For a trained horsewoman like Layla, traveling by carriage seemed odd, foreign. From the moment she could walk, her adopted parents placed her on horseback, per Vanguard custom. She knew both the gentle gait and the full out sprint of her filly but not the bouncing wobble of a carriage. The constant jostle added to her unease while thoughts of her family increased her sorrow.
Across from her, Elder Werrick made a show of pretending she wasn’t there, so she took the opportunity to assess him. What motivated a man like him? She knew so little about those who lived outside of Vanguard. She eyed him, hoping to gain miraculous insight, but she only saw a squat, grim man. Squished together in the confines of the small rolling cabin, he didn’t seem nearly as imposing as he had earlier.
“Do you believe in the Prophecy, my child?” Elder Werrick broke the silence.
Did she believe in the Prophecy? What kind of question was that? She’d heard it preached her whole life. Of course, she believed the Prophecy. Didn’t everyone? Even the Ethereals, who disagreed with the Vanguards on everything, believed in the Prophecy. He should have asked whether or not she believed she was the Fulfillment. For that, she would have had an entirely different answer.
“Of course.” She held her face tight, revealing nothing.
“Then you must know what a glorious day it is. Most Elders search their whole lives for the Fulfillment without finding her. Whole generations of Ecclesiastics have lived and died never witnessing the promised peace, but today, everything changes. Peace will finally reign between the Vanguards and Ethereals.”
He waited for her to respond. When she didn’t, he continued, “You are the deliverer. Do you realize how important your role is?”
Layla narrowed her eyes. The more the Elder spoke, the more she discerned his true motivation. Deliverer—so that’s what fueled him. If Layla somehow miraculously managed to bring about the long awaited peace, Elder Werrick would be forever known as the savior who found her. But she couldn’t even comprehend how this peace could possibly be engineered. Simply marrying the Ethereal prince—a thought that made her cringe—wouldn’t magically bring it about, assuming the Ethereals didn’t kill her or drive her mad with their mind games first. She willed herself to calm down. Grant promised her the Ethereals were not monsters, contrary to what she had always been told. Choosing to believe her brother, Layla took a deep breath to still her anxious mind.
“Elder Werrick, I believe there has been some sort of mistake. As I told you in Medlin, I am no one special. The Prophecy mentions a special blessing from the First Ones. I do not have a gift, so I cannot be the Fulfillment.”
Werrick smiled, though his face showed no joy. “Girl, I have spent years studying the Prophecy and The First Ones. Potential candidates have come and gone, seeping like sand through my hands. I would not have chosen you myself, but your mark from the First Ones cannot be denied.”
“What mark? I bear no mark.” She gestured to her body, emphasizing her point.
The Elder rearranged himself with great care, forcing her to wait for an explanation. “The First Ones have chosen you, and you must walk the path they laid out centuries ago. The answer to peace is somewhere within you. That is all we know and all we need to know…for now.”
Did all Ecclesiastics speak in riddles? If Elder Werrick thought she had some great answer to peace within her, he had a terrible disappointment coming. How could she be expected to make decisions to bring about peace between two kingdoms whose inhabitants had hated one another since the time of the First Ones? People, older and smarter than she, had tried and failed for centuries. Did the Elder really believe she possessed some magical power? If he did, she questioned his sanity.
Elder Werrick pulled a small locket from his pocket and held it up with great reverence. Layla twisted her hands together in her lap, understanding this piece of jewelry somehow fit into Werrick’s plans.
“This is a binding locket. Do you know what that is?” She shook her head. “This locket will bind you to the Ethereal prince, and he to you. The Prophecy did not explain how your marriage will serve both realms, but we have to have faith that it will. Blessed be the First Ones.”
“Blessed be the First Ones.” She spoke the words from memory, realizing with a start she’d never even stopped to consider them before today. Who were the First Ones really? She knew so little about them. And right now, exalting them felt false since thousands of years ago, they decreed her marriage to her greatest enemy.
Leaning forward, she took the locket to examine it. The outside of the plain gold heart revealed no secrets whi
le the inside remained empty, nothing special. How could such a small, insignificant piece of jewelry bind her to the Ethereal prince?
Layla took a deep breath. “And if I refuse?”
Elder Werrick’s bushy gray eyebrows crinkled. He stared at her with a mix of agitation and condescending amusement. The urge to attack him—a Vanguard instinct—overwhelmed her, but she held back. While this man repulsed her, he still had Samson, for the time being at least. She would continue to play along, as Grant had advised, and wait for her moment to seek revenge.
“Refuse? Girl, do you not see the First Ones have chosen you for a duty that no one else can carry out? You are special, blessed beyond measure.”
Layla bit her lip to keep from laughing. Her only value lay in her ability to play along with the Elder’s ambitions. Didn’t he see this charade would only serve to endanger them all?
“What if I don’t want to be bound?”
“You have no choice.” His clipped tone revealed no compassion.
“It’s my life.” She would not be forced into a marriage she didn’t want nor would she be forced to bear a burden as huge as peace between the Vanguards and Ethereals.
“No, Layla, you are the Fulfillment. Your life is no longer your own. You belong to the First Ones, to the Ethereal prince, but most importantly, to peace.” He snatched the locket from her hands.
“I belong to no one.”
“We’ll see about that.” He smirked, further enflaming her anger. “First Ones,” Elder Werrick raised his hands above his head, the locket in his right hand. “Thank you for the Fulfillment. We have waited a long time to find her and for the promised peace.”
“Wait. Stop. What are you doing?”
Violent opposition bubbled up from within her core. She jumped up to stop him, but the carriage’s lurch threw her backward. With a grunt of frustration, she pushed herself back up. The Elder’s foot shot out and knocked her down again. Fury coursed through her. Layla summoned up her Vanguard strength. As she went to rise again, heaviness fell upon her. She whipped her head around to locate the source but nothing held her down. The Elder must be the cause, though she didn’t understand how.