by Erin Rhew
“Of course not. You’ve never treated him like our other children. You’ve never given him a chance.”
“Because I’ve never known who he really is.”
Sans shrank back at his forcefulness, and any small bit of warmth she may have had left in her vanished. Jesper sighed, reigned in his anger and frustration, and tried again.
“Ethereals have always had the ability to alter thoughts and memories when necessary. Wilhelm and Vespa are experts at it, while Nash still struggles. Yet he is as strong as any Vanguard I’ve ever met. Please, Sans, tell me the truth. Is Nash my son?”
Sans narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin. He would have given anything for a small glimpse into her mind at that moment, but his wife had always been sparing with her words. She spoke when she needed to, but more often than not, she held her tongue. On matters of state, he appreciated this quality. Today he did not.
Her frigid barrier dropped just a fraction. “I honestly don’t know the answer to your question, Jesper. In my heart, I say yes, but in my mind, I just don’t know. Right before we married, my father performed an Alteration. I remember the year before our wedding and our wedding but nothing in between.”
Anxiety squeezed Jesper’s chest. Why would Sans’ father remove the memories of a full year of her life? Why had she withheld this information from him? Did she too wonder about Nash? Several breaths stuttered and faltered before he regained the ability to speak.
“Sans, your father has been dead for over a year now. His Lock on your memories is gone. If you want to access them, you can now.”
Sans eyes swam with tears. “I don’t want to know, Jesper. Can’t you understand that? My father locked away a year’s worth of memories for a reason, and I don’t want to know it.”
“Please do it, Sans. For me.”
He placed his hands on top of hers again. She couldn’t stop now, not when the answer that both haunted and eluded him lay just beneath the surface. This very question, this not knowing, had driven him mad with jealousy and turned him into a man he never intended to be.
Jesper thought back to the first moment he saw Sansolena. When she had appeared in front of him that day, her blond hair shimmering and her brown eyes glowing, he believed her to be the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on. He thought he could never love anyone the way he planned to love her.
Less than a year into their marriage, she gave birth to Nash. When Jesper saw that squalling child with black hair, a rage built up inside him. He knew deep down they could never have produced such a child together. Everyone knew blond Ethereals always produced blond Ethereals. A rare few in the kingdom had hair with brown streaks, a product of some sort of past interbreeding, but nothing like the dark puff on Nash’s head.
Jesper, left with no other explanation, concluded his wife must have had another lover. The idea of another man touching Sansolena drove him to the brink of insanity. She was his wife. His. And every day and night since the moment of Nash’s birth, Jesper had wondered, been obsessed with the idea of this other man.
He became so fanatical he demanded a daily account of Sansolena’s whereabouts. Over time, he became someone he didn’t even recognize. And Sansolena, his beloved, bore her husband’s idiosyncrasies with grace and decorum, but he saw the toll his jealousy took on her, the constant look of sadness in her eyes. He hated himself for it, yet he couldn’t seem to stop.
She squeezed his hand, returning him to the present, though he refused to completely leave the past. “Please don’t ask me to do that, Jesper. We’ve built a life and a kingdom together. I have been faithfully by your side for twenty years. Though we didn’t know one another when we married, I have come to love you more than I ever thought possible. I won’t risk what we have together for some ancient memory. I won’t.”
Jesper sighed and stood. He had hoped she would tell him on her own. Somehow that would have been better, but since she refused, he had no choice but resort to other methods. They would not leave this room without the truth.
“Then I have no choice.”
“What do you mean?” Sans’ voice rose an octave. She slid back a bit in her chair.
“Forgive me, my love.” He sought solace for his unforgivable act. “I invoke The King’s Right.”
“No. Jesper, no. Think about what we have.” His whole being cried out for him to stop, to put an end to his madness, but the possessive, resentful beast inside him demanded the truth.
“I’m sorry, my dear. I can’t live another day without the truth.”
Jesper placed a shaking hand upon her head. His mind wandered back to the first moment he’d placed his hands in her hair. He had always loved twisting his fingers in her long, blond strands. But not today….today his touch hurt, tearing at a part of her she wished to keep secret. Possessed, he reached into the deepest section of her mind. She resisted, but he barreled through.
“I invoke The King’s Right over you, Sansolena. All previous Locks and Alterations will come undone by my command.” As her mind released a prism burst forth, spattering color across his vision before slipping away.
Sansolena’s head jerked back with violent force. Jesper watched her with a mixture of fascination and horror as a dazed look swept across her face. In all the years he’d been in charge of the realm, he’d never once invoked The King’s Right. He never could have envisioned using his power in this way.
Sans leaned forward, gripping her waist tightly. Strange moans emanated from her body. Jesper longed to hold her quaking body, but he resisted. Though a part of him wanted to undo what’s he’d just done and beg her forgiveness, he still needed his answers.
“Am I Nash’s father?” He whispered the question, both loving and hating it. Jesper held his breath. Today he would know, today the madness could end.
Sans rocked back and forth, still clutching her stomach. Silent tears streamed down her face.
“Please don’t, Jesper. Please, I beg you.” Her pain, almost a physical presence, leapt onto him, clawing at him to stop, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.
Determined, he threw off the vestiges of his wife’s anguish and knelt before her. “Am I Nash’s father? By The King’s Right, you will answer me, Sansolena.”
“No.” In his frenzy, he almost missed her answer. As the life he’d built, his world, crumbled down around him, Jesper noted how powerful one small word could truly be. For twenty years, these questions had eaten away at him, chipping away more of him with each passing year and changing his very nature. He longed to hobble to his bed, yank the covers over his head, and wallow in his own misery, but he couldn’t stop now.
“Do I know his father?”
“Yes.” She continued her manic rocking, her eyes trained on the wall in front of her.
Jesper felt sick. With a shaking breath, he asked the final, most damning question of all, “Who is Nash’s father?”
Sans stopped rocking. She caught his gaze and held it firmly, her eyes begging him to stop. Tension hung in the air, pregnant with her pause. “Do you even care what you’ve done to me, Jesper? You entered my mind and forced me to remember a life I didn’t even know I lived.”
He stared at her, dumbfounded, and tried to imagine what she must feel—to be overwhelmed by a flood of memories and emotions locked away for twenty years. But her predicament failed to move him. She knew the answer. She alone held the final puzzle piece, and he would know it too. He would learn the identity of Nash’s father, and then he would kill them both—father and son. Only with their death could he finally be the man, the husband, he always wanted to be.
She narrowed her eyes, defiant even in the face of his mental assault. “You got your answer. Now stop.”
“By The King’s Right, you will tell me the name of Nash’s father.” His pain, frustration, anger, and self-loathing exploded in those words. Jesper reached into her mind, tugging for that last elusive memory—the man’s name.
Sansolena grabbed the sides of her head. She scream
ed as he ripped. “Rex. King Rex of the Vanguards…your sworn enemy.”
Jesper stumbled backward. When he hit the wall behind him, he sank to the floor. The desire to scream overcame him, dragging him farther and farther down until he almost succumbed. Sansolena and Rex?
Though he didn’t want to think of Rex, images of the man floated before his eyes, and in that moment, he saw what he hadn’t wanted to see for twenty years. Nash, the child Sansolena passed off as his, looked just like Rex. They had the same dark hair, the same green eyes. How had he been so blind?
When the idea of his wife in Rex’s arms assailed his mind, Jesper jumped up in disgust. He took one last look at the woman he’d loved for two decades and walked out the door.
Chapter Sixteen
Wil
Wil struggled to find the right words to say to Layla. How could he ever apologize for his father’s behavior? The king offered to barter her life for peace. Wil considered the notion unforgiveable.
“I’m so sorry about my father, Layla.” He shook his head, embarrassed by the inadequacy of his attempt.
“Don’t apologize, Wil. You stood up for me; I appreciate that.” When she smiled at him, he relaxed a bit, relieved she didn’t associate him with his father.
Wil stopped walking and turned to her, his face earnest. “I would never let anyone hurt you, Layla.”
“I know.”
He searched her purple eyes for doubt but found none.
They continued to walk in companionable silence. Wil’s mind swirled with possible reactions to Vance’s aggression. The crown should show a presence to those attacked, to let them know their king recognized their troubles and sought to defend them against future attacks. They had to respond, to show Vance he would not be allowed to attack Etherea without repercussions. To ignore Vance spelled the end of Etherea—the end of the elusive peace Elder Werrick and his Ecclesiastics promised
“So, the Alteration…” Layla floundered.
“What about it?” Wil’s pulse raced, though outside he remained calm.
“How does that work exactly? Do you just provide the place and situation and my mind fills everything else in, or did you create the whole thing?”
“It depends on the Alteration. Sometimes I just provide enough information to get the mind going. That can often be the best choice in a fight because people’s own imaginations come up with much more terrifying images than what I can conjure. Other times, I take control of the whole vision.”
She stopped walking and turned to face him. Her purple eyes glimmered in the dim hallway light.
“What about today?” she asked. “Did I make it up, or did you create it?”
Wil swallowed again. The moment he had been alternately anticipating and dreading arrived. He hoped she wasn’t upset.
“I created it.”
She nodded, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “I thought so.”
Wil wiped his sweaty palms against his pants and swallowed the lump in his throat. If he didn’t speak now, he might never again get up the courage. “Layla, I know we’re bound, but I believe that my feelings for you are my own. I think I’d feel this way about you even without the Ecclesiastics’ meddling.”
“I—”
A nervous half-laugh burst forward. He closed his eyes, embarrassed, and wiped his palms again. He’d mess up his one opportunity, yet his confessions continued to cascade from his open mouth. Wil opened his eyes, hoping they conveyed the sincerity of his profession. “You don’t have to say anything right now…especially if you don’t feel the same way. Just think about it. Think about how you feel about me and whether or not you believe you’d feel that way if we weren’t bound.”
“I will.”
“You will?” He hadn’t dared hope for such a response.
The corners of her mouth tugged upward into a smile, and she blushed. “I will.”
He sucked in a deep breath. If ever there had been a time to lay his heart out, open and raw before her…“I’d like to kiss you. For real this time. May I?”
Her blush deepened, turning her face a charming shade of scarlet. He stared at the floor, certain he’d been too forward, but then she said, “Yes.”
Wil’s head popped up, disbelief flooding through his body. Blood pounded in his ears as he leaned in, anticipating the feel of her lips upon his. He smelled her hair, a mixture of lavender and roses. Just as he did in the Alteration, Wil paused before their lips touched, and smiled down at her.
“Wil!” Someone boomed from farther down the hallway.
He and Layla jumped back. The shock on her face mirrored his own. They turned and, to their mutual horror, found the king barreling down the hallway. His face blazed purple with fury.
“Oh no.” Layla took a step back, away from the charging king. “I don’t want to hurt your father, Wil, but I will defend myself if he attacks.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less, Layla. But you should go.”
“What about you? I can’t leave you here alone to face him.”
“He won’t hurt me, but I can’t promise the same for you. Please, Layla, go.”
She hesitated for a moment longer then took off. Relief coursed through him when she disappeared around the corner. She remained out of his father’s reach…for now.
“Wil!” King Jesper screamed his name again.
Wil purposefully maneuvered himself straight into his father’s path, determined to give Layla all the time she needed to escape. “Father, I will not let you give Layla back to the Vanguards.”
Jesper’s eyes narrowed. Wil prepared for an onslaught. But his father waved his hand as if dismissing a servant.
“I don’t care about your stupid little Fulfillment right now, son. We have bigger problems in the realm.”
“What do you mean?” Wil blinked in confusion.
“That imposter, Nash, is to be arrested on sight for high treason.”
Imposter? He didn’t understand his father’s ramblings. “Surely you aren’t going to arrest him for what happened in the meeting room.” Wil argued. Jesper and Nash clashed all the time, but their father had never ordered his eldest son’s arrest.
“I’m arresting him for being a Vanguard spy.”
Wil stepped back in shock. Jesper had lost his mind. Nash had risked his life countless times to gather crucial information from Grant. He’d been instrumental in blocking the false king’s advances. Their father was mistaken.
“That’s ridiculous, Father. Nash is no more of a spy than you or I.’
“He’s the son of King Rex.” His father’s shoulders slumped as his pain and rage burst forth, finding an outlet.
Wil froze. “Wait, what?”
“Your mother just confessed it to me. All those times your brother went missing, I bet he went to see his true father. I bet the two of them had a good laugh at my expense. Well, I’ll show them all who will get the last laugh. Your mother and Nash are to be tried for high treason at the end of the week. If you see Nash, seize him.”
Wil’s mind raced. Nash, the son of King Rex? He felt compelled to ask his mother, to hear the words from her mouth. Yet he knew the truth in his heart. With that dark hair, unusual strength, and fierce pride, Nash looked and acted more like a Vanguard than an Ethereal.
“Where is Mother?”
“She’s being taken to the dungeons as we speak. Now, move aside, son. I have to find Nash so he can join her.”
Wil turned on his heels and tore off down the hallway, determined to find Nash before his father did. Jesper’s furious roars followed him as he ran.
Chapter Seventeen
Layla
After Wil told her to go, Layla obeyed like her life depended on it, and given the murderous look on King Jesper’s face, it might. Guilt combined with Vanguard pride nagged at her. Hadn’t she once told Nash a true Vanguard never ran from a fight? Yet, she left Wil alone to face his father’s wrath. She clung to the belief that Jesper would not hurt his favorite son, his heir
, but still, she’d left him there. She’d run away like a coward. Layla exploded out into the outer courtyard. After slamming the door shut, she leaned against it, sucking in deep breaths. She contemplated going back and rectifying her mistake.
“Layla?” She turned to see Nash leaning against a courtyard wall. He straightened. “Layla, are you okay?”
“Your father…” She panted, catching her breath. “He came storming down the hall, and I ran, Nash. I just ran. I left Wil. I should have fought…I’ve become a coward…I should…”
She wiped at the angry tears that flowed down her cheeks. Their presence, another sign of weakness, further enflamed her self-loathing. Nash rushed over and drew her into his arms. Layla relaxed against him, somehow comforted by the now familiar buzzing between them.
“You did the right thing by running. My father would never hurt Wil. Even so, Wil can handle our father. He’s particularly skilled at defusing charged situations, like our mother.”
Nash paused. Tightening his arms around her, he said, “I won’t let Jesper hand you over to Vance. I promise.” He placed a hard kiss on her forehead to emphasize his point.
“Don’t worry. I won’t let him either.” She joked, though it fell flat, killed by her own turmoil before it took flight. Growing serious, she squeezed his waist. “Thank you for standing up to your father for me in the meeting room.”
His broad chest muffled her thanks, but she didn’t care. His arms ensconced her, creating a cocoon of warmth and safety. For too long, he’d pushed her away. She relished this unexpected moment of closeness and remained as still as possible lest he let her go.
“When he said he’d turn you over to Vance, I just couldn’t control myself. I just…”
Nash fell silent and pulled back a bit. He grabbed her face between his hands, locking her in place, and planted kisses from the top of her forehead to the bottom of her chin, carefully avoiding her lips.