by Erin Rhew
“So you know who I am then.” She said it as a statement, rather than a question.
“Should I?”
“I am no one.” Risking his wrath, she imitated his earlier inflection.
To her surprise, his laughter rang out heartily. She found herself smiling in response.
“I think we’re far enough away now.” Nash yanked back on the reigns to slow his horse. “We’ll stop for a bite to eat.”
Without giving her a chance to protest, he helped her off the horse and settled her against a tree. He pulled two apples from his saddlebag and handed one to Layla. She devoured it.
“Slow down.” Nash chuckled softly. “You’ll get a stomachache. I have more food if you need it.”
She grasped for an explanation, juice running down her chin. “It’s just that I haven’t eaten in a while.”
He rummaged around in his bag again and came up with a large chunk of bread and wedge of cheese. She accepted them with a sheepish but grateful grin. Halfway through the bread, she stopped and, remembering her manners, offered him a piece.
“Thank you, but you can have it. You seem to need it more than I do.” He finished off his apple, stood, and wiped his hands on his pants. “I’m going to go find some sticks to make a splint for your arm.”
“But…” Layla hesitated. If he left, she would be alone, in an unfamiliar part of the world with Prince Vance and his men in pursuit.
“I promise not to go far.” Her face grew warm at his attempt to reassure her. She hated to seem weak or helpless. “If anyone comes, kick them in that direction.” He pointed to a more densely wooded area, stifling a smile. She stuck out her tongue, but her lips turned up into a wide grin.
Nash returned just as Layla finished the wedge of cheese. Careful not to further injure her arm, Nash guided it, with exquisite care, to rest on his leg. The buzz between them rattled her sore bone painfully, but she held still to avoid interfering with his work.
“I need something to hold the sticks in place.” He looked around but shook his head, indicating that nothing around them would suffice.
Shrugging, Nash ripped off the sleeve of his shirt to reveal his taut biceps. Layla’s eyes widened, but she looked away before he could see her expression. Nash, seemingly oblivious, placed the sticks underneath her arm and lightly wrapped them. He worked with great efficiency. She watched with fascination.
“There.” He grinned. “That should hold for now.”
“Thank you.”
He laughed, soft and quiet, different from his loud, boisterous one. “You have leaves in your hair.”
Nash leaned forward to brush them out. At this distance, she could smell him, apple combined with woods. A strange hitch emanated from her throat.
Time froze. Her purple eyes locked with his green ones. Nash lifted his shaking hand to touch a strand of her hair while his other one rose to softly cup the side of her face. With a start, Layla realized she actually wanted him to kiss her. He leaned in, and for a moment, she let herself believe they were the only two people in the world.
Just before their lips met, a high-pitched wailing pierced the air. Nash jumped back, grabbing his ears. Layla slammed her hands over her own ears, sending pain ricocheting through her arm, but nothing blocked out the horrible sound.
“What is that?” she screamed in agony.
“Ethereal defenses!” Nash yelled back to her, no more than a whisper compared to the penetrating blast.
Layla fell on her side, desperate to stop the invasive noise. Not very far away, Nash writhed in pain. She reached out her uninjured arm to grab onto his hand.
“Nash.”
He turned toward her, anguish in his eyes, and extended his own hand. Just as the tips of his fingers made contact with hers, she lost consciousness.
Chapter Five
Layla
Layla bolted up. Bewildered, she looked around, trying to assess her surroundings as quickly as possible. She sat in a massive bed, surrounded by opulent yellow coverings inside one of the biggest rooms she’d ever seen. Ornate curtains, a charming combination of red and yellow, lined a whole wall of windows, which had been drawn to block the light as she slept. Braided Day of Dawning ribbons hung around the room. Braided? Vanguards didn’t braid their ribbons. Where was she?
Layla racked her brain, remembering Nash and the earsplitting pain. Nash. Where was he? She hoped that he’d managed to escape somehow, though she couldn’t imagine how anyone could move with that horrible sound invading every crevice of the body.
As she pushed off the covers, pain shot through her arm. Layla glanced down and noticed that Nash’s carefully made splint had been replaced by a real bandage, tightly wrapped. Further inspection of her body revealed she’d been washed and redressed. Layla flushed wondering who had been the one to clean and clothe her. Upon finishing the scan of her physical condition, her gaze landed on a young woman sleeping on a chair in the farthest corner of the room.
Layla cleared her throat. The startled young woman jumped up and then fell back into the chair, dazed. She stood again, regained her footing, and shuffled toward the bed. Layla’s mind, still a bit foggy, began slowing putting the pieces together. The alarm—Nash called it “the Ethereal defense system.” She must be in Etherea.
On Vanguard instinct, Layla’s good arm shot out and caught the other girl, who’d dared to approach the bed, around the throat. The Ethereal’s brown eyes widened, distorting her attractive face. She grabbed at Layla’s hands but proved to be no match for the much stronger Vanguard.
“Please, stop,” the girl choked out the words, rasping.
“Where am I?” Layla squeezed tighter. “Where is Elder Werrick?”
While the thought of seeing that man again repulsed her, Werrick still had Samson. Until she heard from Grant, Layla planned to stick with the Elder for better or worse. The Ethereal flailed around as her breath slowly seeped out of her body. Deep inside, Layla knew she should let the girl go, yet the Vanguard drive to eliminate all Ethereals proved quite consuming.
Just as the other girl’s eyes started to close, she wheezed, “Please, I know Grant…”
Layla jerked back her hand. The Ethereal fell to the ground, clawing at her throat and gasping for air. Layla jumped up, lording over the fallen girl. She hauled her up, placing the blonde in a seated position on the bed.
“What did you just say?” Layla searched the other girl’s face, hunting for signs of dishonesty. “Is this some Ethereal mind trick?”
“No trick.” The words sounded strained.
“How do you know about Grant?”
The girl looked up at Layla with soulful brown eyes. In them, Layla saw the same expression she’d seen in Grant’s at the Day of Dawning festival. His secret love…an Ethereal. No wonder he’d never brought her home. It all made sense and also explained why he’d been so adamant that the Ethereals were not as Layla had always believed.
“You’re his girlfriend.” Layla slumped in shock. A good Vanguard always maintained alertness, but in the face of such shocking information, she dropped her guard.
“I’m Vespa. And yes, I love your brother.”
“First Ones.” Layla cursed her ancient forbearers for their twisted humor.
She eyed Vespa critically. With her long flowing blond hair and friendly brown eyes, Vespa appeared both beautiful and innocent. Her fancy gown spoke of high birth, perhaps even royalty. Had she been the one to care for Layla at the behest of the royal family, or had she volunteered out of love for Grant? Though the girl seemed kind enough, Layla still couldn’t understand how her brother met and fell in love with the enemy.
“I’m sorry I startled you earlier.” Vespa’s hand touched her throat, her fingers fluttering along the angry, red spot Layla left there. “We thought you would be arriving with the Ecclesiastics. Otherwise, we never would have sounded the alarm.”
“Where is the Elder?” Layla asked.
“He arrived late last night.”
&n
bsp; “Does he know I’m here?”
“Yes.” Vespa nodded. . “He seemed relieved.”
Layla returned the nod, relieved herself. For now at least, Samson wouldn’t be harmed by the Ecclesiastics. She just hoped he would escape before she actually had to marry the Ethereal prince.
As she stared at Vespa, Layla again wondered if the girl had used a mind trick to make her believe the wild claims about Grant. She couldn’t wrap her brain around the idea of a Vanguard soldier falling in love with an Ethereal high born. Perhaps just the close proximity to Ethereals drove people insane. Not knowing which thoughts belonged to her and which Vespa had planted made Layla’s head spin. She ground her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut against the onslaught.
“I’m not Altering your mind if that’s what you’re wondering.” Layla’s eyes flew open, thrown off by Vespa’s intuitive statement.
“How did you know I was thinking that?” The question flew out with more harshness than Layla intended. “Are Ethereals mind readers too?”
Vespa, despite their unease with one another, laughed. “No. I can tell by the look on your face, Layla. You look like you can’t decide whether you want to believe me or kill me.”
The corner of Layla’s mouth turned up in amusement, though she quickly rearranged her face to hide it. She still didn’t know Vespa or trust her. A good Vanguard remained alert at all times, especially in the lair of the enemy.
“So, you don’t believe me about Grant.” Her brown eyes regarded Layla with curiosity and weariness.
“No, I don’t.”
“Well, whether or not you believe me, I ask that you keep this information to yourself, if not for my sake then your brother’s. I only told you because I thought you were going to kill me. I wanted to Alter your mind to make you stop, but I promised Grant I wouldn’t use my powers against you.”
“You spoke to my brother recently?” Vespa’s assentation drew in Layla despite herself.
“I saw him briefly. He asked me to look after you.”
Layla sorted through the information to catch any hint of deception. While Vespa kept her tale cryptic, Layla heard Grant’s personality in the retelling. He would ask Vespa to take care of Layla, and he would insist she refrain from using Alterations.
“What about our parents? Did he mention them?”
“He said they are being taken to a safe place, where the Ecclesiastics cannot reach them. When he left, Grant said he planned to head toward the Ecclesiastical compound to intercept the carriage holding your other brother. I’m sorry, but that’s all I know.”
Layla swallowed hard, making a noise. Vespa knew a great deal about their family and about the dangers they faced. Perhaps she did know Grant and had secured his affections. After all, this scenario lined up with his unusual behavior. She had never known her brother to be imprudent, but his attraction could have overwhelmed his better senses. Nash’s face flashed across her mind. She flushed, recalling how she’d almost let a complete stranger kiss her.
“So, you really are the Fulfillment? Grant told me the measures your family took to keep you hidden from the Ecclesiastics.” When Layla didn’t reply, Vespa continued, “And you’re here to marry our Prince Wilhelm.”
“Forgive me, but I can’t say I’m thrilled to marry my enemy.”
“I’d forgotten how much you Vanguards loathe us.” Vespa stood, her back straight and proud.
Layla grinned, appreciating Vespa’s moxie. In the face of an enemy with superior strength, without the ability to defend herself using Alterations, the Ethereal still stood her ground. Layla respected that.
“How did you hurt your arm?” Vespa tried again.
“I jumped off the back of Prince Vance’s horse.”
“You did what?” Vespa’s brown eyes widened in amazement and a grin of surprise lit up her face. Though she tried not to, Layla smiled in return, understanding how this girl managed to bewitch her brother.
“He said he’d kill me, so I just jumped.”
“He said what?” The smile disappeared off Vespa’s face. “That’s a personal affront to Prince Wilhelm, Layla. You are to be his bride. You are bound to him. For Prince Vance to threaten you is an act of war.” Vespa stood and shook her small fists. “No one threatens my family.”
Layla raised her eyebrow, confused. “Your family?”
“Of course, I’m Princess Vespa, Wil’s sister.”
“You’re who?” Layla’s brain spun to process how her brother, a lowly Vanguard solider, had secured the affections of the Ethereal princess. This whole time, she’d assumed Vespa came from good breeding but would never have guessed her true station.
Her emotions swirled. Anger—Vance’s actions were an affront to Prince Wilhelm, what about the affront to Layla herself? Dismay—Wilhelm’s bride, bound to an Ethereal. Kinship—like Layla, Vespa appeared fiercely protective of her family. Worry—how would Vance’s choices impact her brothers? Bewilderment—her first conversation with an Ethereal and she’d already managed to stir up more trouble between the two sides…some Fulfillment she was turning out to be.
A soft knock on the door pulled Layla from her thoughts. She glanced at Vespa, who regally called for the person to enter.
A small mousy woman spoke from the doorway. “My lady Vespa, the king bid me to check upon the Fulfillment.”
“She is awake.” Vespa gestured toward Layla.
“Very good. The king and prince wish to see her.” The servant backed out of the doorway, her wide eyes never leaving Layla.
“Tell my father and brother we won’t be long.”
Layla clenched her fists; an instinctive desire to protect herself coursed through her veins. The king? The prince? What if they didn’t believe in the Prophecy? Would they kill her, or would they return her to Prince Vance, who would most certainly kill her? Or, equally as dismal, what if they forced her to fulfill her duties and go through with marriage to Wilhelm?
Chapter Six
Wil
Prince Wilhelm paced back and forth in the audience chamber, unable to reign in his anxiety. He glanced at his father, King Jesper, who sighed audibly. The prince knew his father hated when Wil paced, but today he couldn’t sit still. Today, he would meet her…his bride. Of course, he’d already seen her briefly—when he and his soldiers came across her unconscious body—but he would officially meet her in just a few moments.
Since he was child, Wil had been taught all about the Vanguards’ barbaric, war-mongering ways. He had expected to find a feral, half-crazed warrior woman outside his gates, yet Layla had looked so small and fragile lying there on the forest floor…
Wil pivoted and strode in the other direction, a prisoner to his thoughts. Everything had happened so suddenly and he hadn’t had a chance to process it all. The Prophecy required him to marry a Vanguard…a Vanguard.
Wil shook his head, glancing toward the door. He half expected his bride to come barreling through it, slicing up guards along the way. Now that Layla had rested and received medical attention, he worried her true savage nature would emerge. The Elder insisted she fulfilled the requirements of the Prophecy, but Wil remained skeptical. He sighed in frustration. How could he be expected to marry a Vanguard? And if he did, how would that usher in any sort of peace? Wil swallowed with great difficulty—the pressure of their union and what it could mean for their two nations choked his throat like a hangman’s noose.
According to Elder Werrick, Prince Vance disposed of his own father over the ordeal. Wil had heard the stories of how rash and brazen Vance could be. In fact, his own father often worried about the day King Rex died, leaving Vance in control of Vanguard. Without his father to control him, the new King Vance surely planned to wage a relentless war against the Ethereals. Peace had never seemed less likely.
When his father rose, Wil dragged his attention away from his brooding thoughts and directed them to the audience chamber door. He sucked in a breath and let it back out slowly as he moved toward the throne to take
his expected place at his father’s left hand. Elder Werrick led the procession, followed by Wil’s sister, Vespa. With so many people standing in front of her, he couldn’t even catch a glimpse of his future bride.
Elder Werrick introduced the girl with great pomp, unexpected since the girl’s blood contained no royal heritage. “King Jesper, I am pleased to announce I found the long awaited Fulfillment.”
The Ecclesiastic bowed, not quite low enough for proper respect. Jesper glanced at Wil and shook his head. Wil knew his father believed in the Prophecy and the work of the Ecclesiastics, to a point, but the king barely tolerated Elder Werrick. In Wil’s estimation, his father showed good judgment being wary of the man. There was something strange about him.
Wil sat up a little straighter in his seat, hoping to catch sight of Layla, but she too bowed before the throne—down to her knees in a gesture of full respect. Her dark hair swirled from the top of her head all the way to the floor, obscuring her face. Wil drew in a surprised breath. She had approached the throne without incident and bowed low before the king. Already she surprised him.
The Elder continued speaking, “My king, allow me to present, Layla Givens, the Fulfillment.”
Werrick gestured grandly behind him. Vespa stepped aside. From his seat, Wil peered down with great interest.
“My king.” Her whisper carried an intriguing melody. “My prince.”
The young woman lowered herself again. When she rose, her purple gaze landed on Wil. He sucked in a sharp breath. Her exquisite beauty, combined with her calm demeanor, shocked him to the core of his being. She’d only been here for moments yet had already managed to astonish him.
Wil stood abruptly, alarmed by the force of his reaction to Layla. He walked toward her, entranced. Her purple eyes studied him. Never before had he seen eyes that color. And her long, silky black hair…he had to clasp his hands behind his back just to keep from reaching out to touch it. He knew better than to underestimate her strength—for all Vanguards possessed impressive might—yet his tall frame dwarfed her tiny build. She barely came up to his shoulder.