by Erin Rhew
“Don’t talk now. I left Volton Mars by the defense horns, but he’ll be back soon. I’ll have him look at you. You’ll be fine.”
With his free hand, Wil wiped at the tears cascading down his cheeks. They clouded his vision, and he needed to be able to see everything clearly. With his kingdom being invaded and his father wounded, Wil had to hold himself together.
Jesper pumped Wil’s hand to garner his son’s attention. “I let them go, Wil.”
“Let who go?” His father made no sense.
“Your mother and sister. I dropped them off by the river and told them to run.”
Could it really be true? Wil’s heart beat with renewed hope. “Then who was headed to the gallows?”
“Criminals I’d already sentenced to death. I couldn’t do it, Wil. As mad and hurt as I was, I couldn’t do it.”
“Father…” Words failed him.
“I’m sorry, Wil. For everything…so sorry.” Jesper wheezed, shaking violently.
“Father, no.”
“Wil.” Layla’s panicked voice drew his focus away from his father.
He jumped up to find Vance making his way toward them, a mixture of pride and anger illuminating his enemy’s eyes. Staring at the false king, Wil knew death rushed to meet him. All his hopes and dreams for the future vanished, but with his father on the verge of death, Wil would stand for Etherea even if it cost his life as well. He grabbed his sword and slid closer to Layla.
“My father is dying. Please go find Volton Mars.”
“I can’t leave you alone with Vance. Though he looks and sounds weak, he’s still Rex’s son. His position as prince gives an unusual amount of strength. He will kill you, Wil. He’s here to eradicate the Ethereals once and for all.” Her words tumbled out, filling the space between them. “I can’t leave you, Wil. We will fight him together.”
The depth of her concern and loyalty touched him, but he wouldn’t risk her life. If he told her the truth—that he couldn’t stand the idea of a world without her—she wouldn’t go. Wil had to make her believe he needed the Volton, even though Mars could do little for the king at this point.
“Thank you, Layla, but I really need you to find the Volton.”
“You go find the Volton. I’ll stay and fight Vance.”
“With my father injured, I’m the acting king of Etherea. I can’t be seen fleeing a battle. Please, Layla, go. We don’t have time to discuss it any longer.” When she bit her lip, Wil knew she would go despite her objections. He spared a moment to look her in the eyes, hoping to convey everything he didn’t have time to say.
“I don’t want you to die.”
Wil smiled at the longing in her eyes. He considered sweeping her up into a kiss but instead said, “I’ll try not to. Please go.”
To his great relief, she did. Wil stood to face Vance. There wasn’t enough time to perform an Alteration, so he would have to battle the Prince of Vanguard, man to man.
Nash
Nash slammed the battle axe into the chest of the Vanguard in front of him. It landed with a sickening thud, but Nash didn’t have time to think about it. He pressed on with steely resolve, toward Layla. He refused to rest until he reached her and ensured her safety.
As the path cleared, he saw Wil and Layla standing together with King Jesper lying unmoving behind them. Fear and worry seized him. He scanned the crowd, his eyes landing on Vance, who headed straight for them. Nash suppressed his rising panic, slashing and slicing through every obstacle in his path. He had to reach them before Vance did.
Soldiers streamed around him. Frustrated, Nash smashed them aside, some with the axe and others with his sword. Though the other Vanguards possessed incredible strength, they lacked his singular purpose. Men fell by the side, no more than insects in Nash’s path. He never took his gaze off the platform.
When Layla ran, the vise grip on Nash’s heart loosened, only to be immediately replaced by a new fear when he realized Wil now stood alone to face Vance. The Ethereal, despite his disproportionate height, didn’t stand a chance against the Vanguard. Nash willed his brother to turn and run, but Wil stayed rooted in place. He recognized the stubborn set of Wil’s jaw and knew his brother would fight, even surrender his life.
“Run, Wil!” Nash shouted even though he understood the futility. “I’m almost there.”
With Nash just a few feet from away, Vance’s sword dove into Wil’s skin. The Ethereal’s blue eyes bulged with pain. Bile rose in the back of Nash’s throat. Not Wil.
“No!” Nash lunged forward and knocked Vance to the ground.
Layla
Layla headed toward the horns as Wil instructed, but she skidded to a halt and turned back around. Though Wil might hate her for the choice, she would rather see Jesper die than Wil. She should never have left in the first place, no matter what Wil said. A true Vanguard didn’t run. Layla sprinted toward the platform, back toward Wil, her lungs stumbling to keep up with her pace.
“No!” Layla cried as the tip of Vance’s sword punctured Wil on the left side of his chest.
He crumpled to the ground. She exploded toward him, knocking aside everyone who stood in her way. Fueled by panic, she closed the distance in no time.
“Wil.”
“Layla, go.” He pushed at her. “Vance will kill you.”
She looked up, sword in hand. She’d forgotten to watch out for Vance in her haste to reach Wil. The mock king leapt up off the ground—how had he gotten there? Vance hurled himself backward, managing to deftly avoid the tip of a Vanguard soldier’s sword. No, not a Vanguard soldier, but Nash. Nash! As he slashed furiously at the Vanguard usurper, she longed to call out his name, but she didn’t dare distract him.
Turning back to Wil, she said, “Nash is fighting Vance. You rest, Wil. Rest.”
She yanked off a long strip of her skirt. Careful not to jostle him, Layla gathered Wil’s head into her lap. She pressed the piece of skirt into his wound, hoping to stymie the copious flow of blood. Her hands shook as an inexplicable buzz radiated between them.
“Nash? Here?” She heard his disbelief and pride.
“Yes, Wil. He’s fighting Vance. You’re safe. I’m safe. Nash will be safe.” She murmured a litany of reassuring words as she stroked his hair with her free hand. His blood soaked the cloth beneath her other hand. Abject terror seized her. She didn’t know how to save him, or even if he could be saved.
“They’re retreating!” an elated Ethereal cried.
Layla tried to see through the tears swimming in her eyes. She looked up and spied Queen Sansolena riding in on a black steed, followed by Volton Mars, Grant, and Vespa. Charging in from the side, one of Vance’s soldiers, still atop his horse, circumvented the group, knocked Nash aside, and scooped up Vance. A loud, victorious cheer arose from Rex and his men as the usurper fled. Nash righted himself, screaming curses at the retreating horse and riders.
Queen Sansolena
Sansolena, seeing her husband and son lying atop the platform, slid off the horse and raced up. With Wil attended by Layla and now the Volton, she went first to Jesper. Her whole body trembled.
Her husband’s blue eyes, a feature she had always loved about him, stared vacantly up at the sky. A low moan escaped her throat. She clamped her hand over her heart, a vain attempt to hold in all the anguish threatening to spill out.
“Jesper. Oh, Jesper.” She shook him, but he did not respond. Tears fell from her brown eyes.
“Jesper!” she called his name again, her voice hoarse from sorrow.
Sansolena threw herself upon her dead husband, hugging the last bit of life that clung to him. Did he know she meant it when she said, despite everything, she loved him? They both had regrets, deep ones, but they had also once had an outpouring of love. How could he be gone? Really gone?
Rex approached her, his face grim. “I’m so sorry, Sans.” He spoke in a hushed whisper, giving her this final moment.
After allowing a few minutes to fully give into her grief, the queen righted hersel
f. She kissed Jesper’s forehead with aching tenderness. Stepping back, she realized he looked peaceful. In all their years together, she’d never seen his face so free from worry. His serenity brought her a small measure of comfort, but she knew the ache of his loss, within the depths of her soul, would last forever. She looked around to find that everyone, even Rex, shed tears at the magnitude of her grief.
Sucking in a deep breath, she turned from Jesper to attend her son. The Volton fluttered around Wil while Layla continued to hold his head. Nash, Grant, and Vespa kept back, trying to catch a glimpse from afar. The queen pushed her way in.
“Wil?” she asked.
“Mother, you’re alive.” He smiled with a sweetness that pained her.
“What happened?”
Disappointment replaced the pain on Wil’s face. “Vance. I tried to stand for Etherea, Mother, but I couldn’t.”
She smiled sadly, so proud of her son. Did he know how much she loved him? “You did well, my son.”
She stepped back, motioning for Mars to meet her. “Will he live, Volton?” She forced herself to ask the question they all wondered but feared asking.
Mars, her closest friend and confidante for the past twenty years, looked at her with worried brown eyes. His pale, tense face told her how much he feared for Wil.
“I don’t know.” He spoke the truth, knowing she would accept nothing less. “I think I can mend his wounds. I hope so, my queen, but I can’t guarantee it.”
“Do what you can, Mars.” The queen fell to her knees beside her son. “The Volton will take care of you, my dear.” She stroked his hair as she had during his childhood. “You will be just fine. I believe it.”
She said the words he needed to hear while her eyes surveyed the blood surrounding his body. Foreboding settled around her shoulders like a shroud.
“Mother, I need to speak to Nash.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Nash
When his mother called him, Nash rushed to his brother’s side. He tried not to notice the blood pooling around Wil’s body, but his gaze seemed drawn to it. He knelt beside his brother and took his hand.
“I’m here, Wil.”
Wil opened his eyes. His face broke out into a big smile. Nash bit back tears. “Brother, I missed you.”
“I missed you too, Wil.” Nash struggled to keep his voice level, but the lump in his throat made it difficult.
“You know, we’ve never been apart for that long. You used to disappear into the woods sometimes, but you always came home for dinner. I’m glad you’re back.”
“Me too.”
“I need your help, Nash.” Wil’s intense gaze spoke volumes.
“Anything.”
Wincing in pain, Wil reached up and grabbed Layla’s hand. She gasped in surprise. Nash, who had been so preoccupied with his brother’s injury, finally looked at Layla. He lost his breath. Had she grown even more beautiful in their time apart? In her eyes, he saw his own fear and pain reflect back.
To their mutual shock, Wil placed Layla’s hand on top of Nash’s. His green eyes connected with her purples ones, both teeming with confusion. A loud snapping vibrated the air around them. His arm shook, as did Layla and Wil’s. Even Volton Mars, who sat a few paces away, watched with fascination. His mother’s eyes grew wide.
“Oh First Ones,” Sansolena muttered a prayer.
“Wil?” Layla’s gaze swung back and forth between the two princes.
“I’m dying,” Wil said the words with resoluteness, shattering those around him.
“You’ll be fine,” Layla assured him, though the hitch in her throat contradicted her.
“The Volton will fix you up in no time.” Nash willed it to be true.
The injured prince shook his head, stopping whatever other pacifying reassurances they had planned. He looked between them, his eyes burning with death’s fire. Nash started to speak again but found he couldn’t. The noisy buzzing, Layla’s hand on his, and Wil’s reason for putting it there distracted him. What was Wil doing?
“I don’t know what will happen to me.” Wil’s face betrayed his lie—he knew, but he didn’t speak the truth again for their benefit. “But I need you both to work together to save Etherea.”
“What are you saying?” Nash tried to make sense of his brother’s words.
“I want you to stand as king in my place.”
“What? I could never…”
“You can, Nash, and you will. I trust no one else to hold my throne.”
Nash glanced at everyone standing around them, expecting outrage and dissent. His mother smiled weakly, heartbroken over Wil and Jesper, while his father nodded, confidence spreading across his face. Though they had only known one another a short while, Rex’s faith reassured Nash. Finally, he turned to Layla. Her purple eyes spoke the words she couldn’t. She believed in him. A crackle pierced the air as the energy coursing between the three intensified.
“Okay, Wil, but only until you heal. As soon as you are back on your feet, the crown is yours.”
Wil smiled. “Layla, Nash will need your support. Stand by him. Help him. I want the two of you to do whatever it takes to protect my people.”
“We will,” Layla promised as Wil’s eyes fluttered closed. Nash turned his head, unable to acknowledge the magnitude of the situation before him.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Layla
Layla tried to sort out the feelings that whirled around inside her. At the forefront, panic over Wil’s condition. Volton Mars said he could mend Wil, but the blood soaking through the prince’s tunic and pooling around him told a different story. She feared Mars spoke those words only to placate them, to hide the bleak reality. The thought of losing Wil…she couldn’t bear it.
Why had Wil asked her to help rule the kingdom with Nash? What did he mean? Had he given his blessing for Layla and Nash to be together? If so, she didn’t know how she felt about it. From the moment she’d been taken by Elder Werrick, her feelings had been the fodder for his twisted games. Could she trust her own heart, her own mind, anymore? Did she truly love either of them, or had Werrick enslaved them all in an elaborate illusion?
When she saw Nash fighting on the battlefield, she couldn’t deny her attraction to him. Yet, when Wil fell to Vance’s blade, her entire being shattered at the sight. What did that mean, if anything? She sat torn between two brothers, unsure how she felt about either. One minute she found herself in Nash’s arms and the next in Wil’s—only to realize every moment, every kiss had been manipulated by an outside force.
Upon coming to Etherea, she feared losing her mind, and perhaps she had.
Layla stroked Wil’s blond hair, hoping to calm him. His eyes fluttered open, filled with adoration. Though she started to speak, nothing came out. Layla wanted to tell him she loved him, to return to him what he had so graciously offered to her. But she couldn’t say the words he wanted to hear, not yet anyway. Without the ability to be sure of her feelings, she didn’t dare say anything. She couldn’t mislead Wil, not anymore, and especially not as he lay dying in her arms. At the same time, she wouldn’t allow herself to say goodbye either. Wil would be fine. There would be time to sort everything out between the three of them…later. She repeated the words like a chant.
Nash squeezed her hand. In his eyes, she recognized his bewilderment and the questions he held back as he comforted her. She tightened her grip on his hand, hoping her gratitude flowed along the current between them. She had only that and a feeble smile to offer him before returning her attention to Wil. Praying it would staunch the flow, Layla pressed the blood soaked cloth harder against his wound.
Commotion behind Rex and the queen drew her attention. Someone, a Vanguard, rode toward them all. She started to rise, prepared to defend Etherea, but something about him looked familiar.
“Samson?” Grant squinted.
Volton Mars rushed to take Layla’s place, holding Wil’s head so she could stand. She pushed past a group of people blocking h
er view of the rider. Samson’s brazen grin greeted her. He looked the same as he always had and no worse for the wear. Where had he been all this time?
“Grant! Layla!” When Samson dismounted, Layla saw the hooded girl riding on the horse behind him and grew more perplexed.
Grant rushed forward, hugging his brother. The two slapped at one another playfully and laughed. For a moment, Layla imagined herself back on the farm in Vanguard, watching them joke around. Finally, Samson stepped over to her and swept her up into his arms. She relaxed for the first time in weeks, letting her misery seep into him. He reminded her of home. Memories of their mother’s baked bread and the warm fire in their Vanguard home cascaded over her.
“I’ve been worried sick about you, Samson. Where have you been?” She pulled back to get a better look at him.
“I wanted to find a way to get you out of this mess.” He grinned with childlike excitement.
Layla thought back to Rex’s castle, all those months ago. At that time, she wanted nothing more than to be free from her role as the Fulfillment, which felt more like a curse than a blessing. As a result, Samson spent months searching for a way to extricate her. She didn’t even know where he’d been or what he’d done to make that a reality.
Only now, Layla didn’t want to be free of it. Somewhere along the way, she’d come to accept, even desire, her role. She knew with an inexplicable certainty she would find a way—working with Wil, Nash, Sansolena, and Rex—to bring peace to Etherea and Vanguard. Elder Werrick definitely mishandled the situation, but ultimately, he’d been right. She accepted her calling, her destiny, embracing her role as the Fulfillment. Layla knew the First Ones chose her, believed it in every fiber of her being.
“What did you find?” Grant asked, breaking the extended silence following Samson’s proclamation.
“Her.” Samson pulled the young woman forward.
The girl pushed back her hood and lifted her head. A collective gasp arose from those around her. Her dark black hair tumbled down her back as she surveyed them all with piercing purple eyes. With great ceremony, she rolled up her sleeve to reveal a dark purple birthmark in the shape of an “F.”