The Prophecy

by Erin Rhew

  “My prince.” She lowered her gaze as he approached.

  “Call me Wil.” He longed to place a finger under her chin, to lift her head until he could again stare into those unusual eyes.

  “Wil.” She repeated the words, trying them out. He smiled, liking the sound of his name upon her lips. “I am Layla.”

  “Layla.” He spoke her name out loud for the first time. An unexpected bolt of pleasure coursed through his body.

  Elder Werrick bustled toward them. He placed one hand on Wil’s shoulder and the other on Layla’s to move them closer together. A strange buzzing emanated from the Elder, sending a shock wave down Wil’s arm. He stepped to the side, just out of Elder Werrick’s reach, as the older man spoke. “King Jesper, they appear to get along beautifully. When shall we have the wedding? Tomorrow?”

  Wil whirled around to face his father. While he found Layla alluring, Wil wasn’t prepared to connect his life, his future, and his kingdom to a stranger. He may not be king yet, but he still had to consider his people when making major decisions. His father’s steely blue gaze briefly brushed over Wil and Layla before landing upon the Elder.

  “Let’s not be hasty, Elder. There is time. Peace has waited centuries…what’s a little longer?” Wil detected the simmering anger behind Jesper’s words. He knew his father did not agree with this marriage, despite the king’s touted belief in the Prophecy, and hoped to delay it long enough to figure out a way to extract them all from the arrangement.

  “With all due respect to your position as king, I must insist they marry immediately.” Werrick’s sneer contradicted his words.

  Wil noticed a side door open. Relief flowed through him when Volton Mars, his longtime tutor and friend, joined them. At the sight of the Volton, Elder Werrick recoiled. Bad blood ran between the men, though Mars had never told Wil the reason.

  “Werrick, still forcing your will on others, I see.” Volton Mars moved a few steps closer to Wil, his gaze trained upon the Elder.

  “Mars, still injecting yourself where you aren’t needed, I see.” Werrick regarded the other man with clear loathing.

  Though the two men stood apart, their mutual tension and disgust permeated the whole room. Wil made a mental note to get the full story from Mars in the future. From the corner of his eye, the prince saw Layla observing the men with similar fascination. Her purple eyes glittered.

  “King Jesper is right. There is no need to push these two into marriage just yet. If they are to bring about your supposed peace, let them do so as friends as well as spouses.” Mars walked to Wil’s side in a show of solidarity.

  The Elder’s face turned bright red. “For centuries, we have been waiting upon the Fulfillment. Now that she has been found, you would prevent the Prophecy from finally coming true? That’s blasphemous.”

  “And speaking against the king is treasonous.” Jesper stood, his posture full of warning. “I do not take treason lightly, Elder Werrick. You will obey my order, or you will leave Etherea and take your Vanguard girl with you. If you expect me to marry off my heir to one of Rex’s subjects just because you say so, then you’re more obtuse than I thought.”

  “Obtuse.” Elder Werrick huffed. “I’m the Elder of the Ecclesiastics, practically a king in my own right.”

  “Then go back to the Borderlands.” Jesper pointed to the door, his face red with rage. “But if you plan to stay in my kingdom to ensure the Prophecy, you will do so in obedience to me.”

  Beside Wil, Layla let out a small snort of laughter. His own lips turned up in response. Elder Werrick looked around the room, making eye contact with each person. Sighing, the portly man turned back to the king.

  “I need to stay in Etherea and oversee the marriage of Wilhelm and the Fulfillment.”

  “Layla,” Wil interjected. “Her name is Layla.” He glimpsed her smile.

  Werrick pursed his lips together, displeasure written all over this face. “I will obey your commands, King Jesper. Please let me know when you wish to proceed with the wedding.”

  The Elder turned and walked out the door, his robes flapping wildly behind him.

  Vespa piped in, “Father, shouldn’t we retire to the dining area? Mother has been ordering the servants around all day in preparation for our first dinner with the Fulfill…” She glanced at Wil. “Layla.”

  “We should.” Jesper rose.

  Wil stood close enough to touch Layla yet kept his hands down. “May I escort you to dinner?”

  She lowered her eyes again, a faint flush tinting her cheeks. “Yes, thank you.”

  He started to offer his arm, an Ethereal custom, but decided against it. While he knew a great deal about the Vanguard leadership and military, he knew little of Vanguard courtesy customs. He fell in step beside Layla rather than risk offending, frightening, or enraging her. If his future bride noticed his internal deliberation, she acted like she didn’t. They strolled toward the dining room in companionable silence.

  Vespa hurried ahead to walk with her father, giving Wil and Layla their privacy. Suddenly alone with her, his tongue ensnared his speech, yet at the same time, he wanted to impress her. Surely she had preconceived notions about him and his people, just as he had of her. If they did marry and had to work together to bring about peace, those prejudices would have to be addressed, the myths dispelled, but Wil was at a loss for how to make that happen.

  He started with a safe topic. “I’m sorry your journey was so arduous.”

  “Thank you.”

  He wanted her to say more. Despite her short reply, Wil pressed forward, attempting to draw her out. “I hope you will be happy here. I know our two sides have been at odds for…well, forever.” He laughed, a strangled, nervous sound. “But maybe we can come to know one another and work toward peace.”

  She gazed up at him, her face curious. His pulse quickened. Though he’d seen his share of beautiful women, none struck him as Layla did. She had the Vanguard fierceness—he saw it blazing in her eyes and in the way she set her chin—yet he did not see the volatility he’d been told resided in her people.

  “So, do you mean to play tricks with my mind?” Whether she was joking or serious, her face gave no indication.

  He stifled a laugh, reminding himself that she did not understand their laws or customs, which forbade unprovoked Alterations. “No, I will not enter your mind without your permission nor will any member of my family or realm. Serious harm will come to anyone who tries. You have my word.”

  Her shoulders relaxed, and they shared a tentative smile. Could some bond actually be forged between them that just might save both of their kingdoms? Her presence encouraged him to envision it.

  “So, are you planning to beat me up?” Wil grinned to show his jest, hoping his teasing did not offend her.

  “I thought about it.” She paused and cocked her head, her purple eyes sparkling. “But I decided to spare you for now.”

  His laughter echoed down the hallway reaching far enough to garner the attention of his father and sister, who turned back. After a moment’s hesitation, Layla joined him. His heart lightened.

  Chapter Seven

  Layla

  Once they reached the dining room, Vespa guided Layla to a seat right beside Prince Wilhelm. Wil, Layla reminded herself, testing it out. Like his sister, Wil wasn’t at all as she expected. Of course, she still didn’t know if she could trust her own mind’s interpretation of events. She hadn’t yet ruled out the possibility that Wil, Vespa, or King Jesper somehow altered her perception.

  Wil took his place beside her. Their eyes met, and he smiled. She returned it, their moment in the hallway still lingering between them.

  His features pleased her eye far more than she expected. Like Vespa, he had dazzlingly blond hair, but unlike his sister, Wil’s eyes blazed a shockingly deep, yet bright, shade of blue. When he looked away, she took the opportunity to study his profile. He had a strong, chiseled jaw, and lips that appeared ready to smile at any moment. He turned and caught he
r staring—at his lips no less. Her face grew warm. She knew her cheeks flamed a mortifying shade of pink.

  The king took his seat. Layla noticed two open spots: one across from her, near Vespa, and the other beside King Jesper. Layla assumed one belonged to the queen, but who would sit in the final chair? Elder Werrick? If so, Layla would most certainly lose her appetite. She’d seen more than enough of the pushy Ecclesiastic and looked forward to a long reprieve from him.

  On cue, the queen bustled into the room. She, too, sported bright blond hair, though she kept hers swept up in a tight bun on the top of her head. Her observant brown eyes fell immediately upon Layla. The Vanguard sat still, bearing the other woman’s intense scrutiny without flinching. They faced off silently, each assessing the other. Though the queen had a large smile on her lovely face, her eyes conveyed suspicion. Layla swallowed hard. Maybe Vespa and Wil didn’t plan to rearrange Layla’s mind, but she believed the queen would be perfectly willing.

  Wil cleared his throat. “Mother, you’ve created a lovely meal for our new guest. Allow me to introduce Layla Givens. Layla, this is my mother, Queen Sansolena.”

  Layla broke gaze with the queen. When Wil winked, she realized he’d sensed her discomfort and sought to alleviate it. She nodded at him to convey her gratitude. The queen’s eyes narrowed, but she quickly recovered. “Welcome, Layla. I apologize for not being in the audience room to greet you, but my presence was required elsewhere.”

  Layla met the queen’s eyes again. She wanted the Ethereal to know she would not back down. “My queen, I am honored to meet you.”

  “Where is that no good son of ours?” King Jesper interrupted. “I’m hungry, and I know you,” he looked pointedly at the queen, “won’t let us eat without him.”

  “He’ll be here any moment.” The queen’s cheek twitched, but her smile remained plastered to her face.

  Layla believed the queen hid exasperation behind that mask, though with the king or with this other son, she couldn’t determine. As a Vanguard from a remote, small town, she knew very little about the Ethereal royal family, so the revelation of a second brother surprised her. She leaned in closer to Wil.

  “You have a brother?” Layla hoped only Wil could hear her.

  “Yes, he’s eleven months older than me.”

  “Older? Forgive me, Prince Wilhelm…”

  “Wil, please call me Wil.”

  “Forgive me, Wil, but I thought the eldest son became king.”

  Wil glanced toward her and then looked down at the table, but not before she caught the reluctance in his blue eyes. Layla’s interest piqued. Perhaps she could use any discord in the royal family to her advantage when the time came to make her escape. Guilt rocked her for plotting against Wil, who seemed nice enough, but her loyalty lay with her family, not him.

  “My brother abdicated, released his birthright. He told my father he had no desire to be king, so I will take the throne one day.”

  King Jesper, who previously gave no indication he’d been listening, leaned forward, his mouth twisted in anger. “And we’re all the better for it.” The queen shot her husband a reproachful look. He grinned at her, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s true, Sansolena. We all know it.”

  The dining room door flung open, and a young man hauled himself in boorishly. Despite his dramatic entrance, he made a leisurely approach to the table, which left King Jesper seething in his seat. Layla studied the king’s reaction with great interest before turning back to the newcomer. While he remained too far in the shadows for Layla to clearly see his face, she guessed he must be the eldest son. The firstborn prince tossed an object into the sky and caught it. His lackadaisical attitude continued to hold up dinner, but he did not increase his pace. Something about the way he walked caught Layla’s attention. It seemed vaguely familiar…

  “Finally.” The king spoke with great agitation. “Sit down so we can eat.”

  “I can’t believe you used the alarms on me today, Father.”

  That voice! Layla froze. She became so still Wil looked over at her, his eyes wide with concern, but she couldn’t make herself move. She knew that voice.

  Will smiled. “Layla, I’d like to introduce my brother.”

  The newcomer stepped into the light, his whole face illuminated. Layla sucked in a sharp breath. That dark hair, those piercing green eyes…she knew that face.

  “Nash,” Wil finished.

  * * * *

  Layla pushed the food around on her plate, unable to imagine forcing the meal into her tangled stomach. Nash—an Ethereal? Nash—Wil’s brother? She could hardly come to grips with the idea. How could this be? Nash told her he had no allegiance, yet he was the son of King Jesper. Father and son did not seem to be on friendly terms, and according to Wil, Nash abdicated the throne. Still, Layla couldn’t shake notion that he’d lied to her in the forest—maybe not directly but by not revealing this pertinent information.

  She tried not to glare at him from across the table, yet found her gaze wandering his way. For his part, Nash stared at his plate. He never once lifted his head. She wondered what he thought as he studied the peas in front of him with such intensity. Despite the revelation of his parentage and her anger over his purposeful omission, Layla still felt drawn to him in ways that angered, annoyed, and intrigued her.

  Wil leaned over, his blue eyes searching. “Are you not hungry?”

  Guilt pricked her. Wil did seem kind, yet she couldn’t allow herself to become emotionally connected to him…or his brother. Remaining detached and waiting for Grant’s signal took priority over any other feelings she may have. Sneaking a peek at Nash, Layla found him studying her interaction with Wil, an unidentifiable expression on his face. Why had he chosen this moment to finally look up from his food? She flushed and turned her head away, feeling her resolve slip. Samson, Samson, she repeated her imprisoned brother’s name over and over to center herself.

  “I…” Layla fumbled. Wil still awaited an answer beside her. “I need to be excused.”

  She jumped up from the table. If she stayed in that room with Nash for one second more, Layla might be tempted to call him out for his deception…either that or throttle him. Each choice held its own appeal. No one at the table spoke to grant her permission to leave, so she pushed open the dining room door and walked out.

  “…typical Vanguard impulsiveness.” She heard the king disparage her just as the door closed.

  Further enraged, Layla raced down the hallways, veering left and right, completely lost. Hurt, angry, and confused, she pressed herself against a wall and slid down until her bottom touched the floor. She buried her head in her hands. The Elder ruined her life with his ridiculous proclamation. She was not the Fulfillment.

  At the sound of footsteps, Layla jerked her head up. She jumped to her feet, crouching in a defensive pose. A Vanguard should always be alert, never found in a compromising position. To her surprise, Nash barreled around the corner, nearly crashing into her.

  “What are you doing here?” His inquiry, a mix between question and accusation, carried down the hallway.

  “What am I doing here? What are you doing here?” Layla spoke louder to match his pitch.

  “I live here.” He gestured to the floor with one hand and the ceiling with the other. His blasé demeanor infuriated her. Last time they spoke, he conveniently left out his paternity, so how could she have known he lived here—in the castle, as a prince?

  Her ire rose. “I thought you had no allegiance.”

  Nash turned away. He dug his hands in his hair. “It’s complicated.”

  “Yeah, well it’s complicated for me too.”

  They stood in awkward silence for a while. “What happened in the forest, Nash? How did you get away?”

  “The Ethereal defense horns sounded when we came into range. It’s my fault. I let myself get distracted, and I didn’t realize we’d gotten close enough to be spotted by the Ethereal lookout.” His green eyes held an apology. “I’m sorry, Layla.
The horns aren’t lethal, but they certainly make you feel like you’re dying.”

  She recalled the horrible sound permeating the air, surrounding and engulfing her with its deafening noise. “Yes, they do, but you still didn’t tell me how you got away.” In the forest, she had refrained from pushing him about his fealty, but she wouldn’t let him get away without answering her questions now.

  “I crawled far enough away from you before my brother and his soldiers came. That’s no small feat, I assure you.” He looked pleased with himself. “No one knows we were together in the forest.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “Your turn, Layla. Tell me why my family is treating a Vanguard like an honored guest.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “I wouldn’t ask you if I did.”

  Nash caught one of her locks in his finger and twirled it. The same magnetic trill that electrified them in the woods flowed from her hair into his fingers and back again. He moved toward her slowly. She backed up against the wall. As she had earlier, Layla focused on her reason for being in Etherea, to remain detached, but she struggled in the face of their mutual attraction. When Nash lowered his mouth toward hers, she reached deep inside to find the strength to stop him when she wanted nothing more than to connect.

  “Stop.” She pushed the word out with great effort though it sounded as soft as a whisper. “I can’t.”

  “Why not? You didn’t seem resistant to kissing me in the woods.” Confusion on his face altered, but did not detract from, his handsome features. To emphasize his point, Nash pressed his lips lightly against her cheek. She almost faltered.

  “I know, Nash, but that was before.”

  “Before what?” His questioning gaze searched her face and then realization dawned on him. “I see. You mean before Wil.”

  Nash pushed off the wall. His green eyes, which had been so soft and caring in the forest, now shined brightly with warring emotions. She cringed, an uncommon Vanguard reaction.