The Fulfillment

by Erin Rhew

  He rubbed a hand in slow, soothing circles on her back. “I know.”

  And he did. Maybe the queen intended this pregnancy, or at least hoped for it, but Wil knew the thought hadn’t crossed Mia’s mind.

  Despite his pain, despite the loss of Layla, Wil wanted to be a good king, and a good king took care of both his people and his family. His reign and his legacy began here and now, in this moment with Mia and his unborn child.

  He struggled to make sure the words would come out without giving away any of the heartache he felt inside. “Marry me, Mia.”

  She popped her head up. Her blue eyes searched his face. He tried to hide his sadness, to put on a brave smile for her, but the look Mia gave him proved he hadn’t fooled her.

  “No.”

  Relief flooded over him, surprising in its intensity. “No?”

  “You don’t love me.” He detected no hurt or anger in her voice.

  “But we’re having a child. Our daughter will be the Princess of Etherea.” He couldn’t believe he now found himself in the awkward position of convincing someone, whom he didn’t want to marry in the first place, to agree to become his wife.

  “That’s no reason to marry.”

  “I don’t understand, Mia. You’re carrying our child, and I want to be her father in every sense of the word.”

  “You can still be her father, but I can’t marry you when you’re still in love with Layla.” Mia’s blue eyes filled with a new round of tears. “I don’t say that to make you feel bad, but I can’t be in a loveless marriage. My parents…” She sniffed and gazed off into the distance at a memory. “Even as I child, I knew my father loved my mother with all his being. Call me selfish, but I want that too.”

  Wil’s heart softened. He’d been so preoccupied with his own sadness, fears, and doubts that he hadn’t stopped to consider Mia’s. He recalled how he’d forced Elder Werrick to remove the binding because he would rather never have married Layla than marry her when her heart belonged to his brother.

  He placed his hands on either side of Mia’s face and wiped away the tears. Her eyes widened in surprise. “No. It’s not too much to ask,” he said.

  “Thank you.” She offered him a shy smile.

  “So, what are we going to do?” Though he posed the question to her, he asked it of himself as well. He couldn’t be with Layla because of his responsibility to Mia, but Mia wouldn’t take him because of his love for Layla.

  “We have three months to figure it out. Let’s spend some time together and see what happens.”

  Three months. Thanks to the Outlander First One, Haddey, and her “gift” of accelerated pregnancy, he only had three months to prepare for his child’s arrival. No matter the length of time—three months, three years, or three hundred years—he loved Layla and always would. But the hopeful expression on Mia’s face arrested his thoughts.

  Words he knew in his heart to be impossible fell from his lips. “Okay, Mia. That’s what we’ll do.”

  Chapter Eight

  Wil

  Samson’s loud, boisterous laughter permeated the air, awakening Wil. As he lay there, the weight of his situation pressed upon him. He’d allowed himself one moment of weakness, and that one moment had unleashed chaos into his life. He could almost hear Volton Mars offering a lesson about how it is a king’s responsibility to weigh every action against the potential consequences. Wil covered his face with the blanket and considered rolling over and going back to sleep, hiding away from the world and all its problems. But he forced himself to get up. A good king faced all situations whether he wanted to or not.

  He dressed and joined the others for breakfast. Despite the grim events of the day before, Samson stood around the campfire telling another outlandish story. Everyone, even Mia, laughed.

  Wil cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to break up the fun, but we need to eat a quick breakfast and get ready to ride. We still have a long way to go to get to Volton.”

  Vespa handed him a hard biscuit, some salted beef, and an apple. He smiled at his sister, who hesitated before returning a smile of her own, and then sat down beside Mia. She cast her gaze onto the ground rather than meeting his. Everyone stopped talking and stared at them. Wil shifted around, his seat suddenly uncomfortable. When he glanced at Layla, her sad expression grieved him. After another uncomfortable moment, Samson resumed his chatter and drew the attention away.

  Wil bit into the biscuit and turned to Mia. “How are you feeling?”

  “Hungry.”

  He handed her his apple and salted beef. She thanked him and scarfed down the beef before he’d even finished his biscuit. Though he sat beside Mia, his gaze strayed to Layla. Each time he beheld her, heaviness descended upon him. He longed to return to the safety of his tent, sleep beneath the covers, and awaken to a different reality.

  Layla rose and stalked off into the distance, and though he wanted to follow her, responsibility rooted him in place. But his mind still spun on the reason why she’d marched away from the group. Vespa and Iris ran after her. Even Grant left to talk to her, but all three returned to the campsite dejected.

  Jule stood. “Should I try?”

  “She won’t talk to anyone.” Vespa shot Wil a pointed look.

  His legs thrummed with adrenaline, encouraging him to run after Layla, but duty kept him down. Last night, Mia had offered him an opportunity to get to know one another, to possibly become a family. He tugged at the front of his shirt. The sudden plume of air that cascaded down to his stomach did little to cool his overheated body.

  “I think you should go see what’s wrong.” Mia nodded her head in Layla’s direction.

  He shook his head. “No, I’ll stay with you.”

  “I appreciate that, but you need to go. You know it, and I know it.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Without giving her the opportunity to change her mind, Wil jumped up and raced toward Layla. He knew she heard him approach, but she didn’t turn around. He glanced back at Mia, who watched them with interest.

  “Layla?”

  “Please go away.” She remained seated on the ground a few feet in front of him, motionless.

  “Let me help you.”

  “You can’t help me.”

  “I want to try.”

  When she faced him, her purple eyes blazed with a mixture of sadness, anger, uncertainty… “Just go. Please.”

  Her words struck him as hard as any blow from her fists might, but he remained. He planted himself beside her and stared into the distance while she ripped apart pieces of grass and bark, littering the ground around them. Several times, when her breath hitched and her mouth opened, he thought she might speak, but she didn’t.

  While he waited, he picked up a piece of grass and split it into two parts. The divided blade reminded him of himself—Wil the king versus Wil the man. Growing up, Volton Mars—medic and tutor for the Ethereal royals—had instructed his young pupil about the responsibilities of leadership, about following his mind and not his heart, and Wil had understood the logic and reasoning behind the teachings. But convincing his heart to follow his mind proved to be a much more difficult task in real life than it had seemed in the classroom.

  He dropped the two sections of grass and studied Layla’s face.

  “I want to tell you, Wil, but I promised I wouldn’t share this information with anyone.”

  He took her hand in his. Her icy fingertips, as cold as snow in the height of winter, provided a testament to the load she carried. She needed him now if only as a friend. “You can always tell me anything.”

  She remained silent for a long time. When she turned, she opened her mouth several times before her words came out. “When Iris and Jule told us the story of my parentage, I pieced it together from a conversation I’d had with him. He’s my father, Wil. I know it.”

  “Wait, who is your father?”

  “Volton Holt.”

  His mouth dropped open, but he reel
ed it back in before she glanced his way. “Volton Holt? You’re sure?”

  “While we were in Volton, Holt mentioned he had a brother. He looks so much like my adoptive father Jensen, I just knew they were related. Holt confirmed he is Jensen’s brother and Samson and Grant’s uncle, but he asked me to keep it a secret. So, when Iris and Jule said my mother left me on the doorstep of my father’s brother, I knew. Holt is my father.”

  “Is this good news or bad?”

  “Both. I’m glad to know my father is alive and well, but he’s restricted from having contact with his family. It’s part of the Volton’s vow. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I should reveal the truth to him, or keep it a secret.” She picked up a wad of grass and threw it. “When we arrive with Jule and Iris, he may figure it out anyway. He never had the chance to meet either of them, but he’ll probably put it together. Then what? Where will that leave the two of us?”

  “I wish you had shared this with me earlier. It’s a heavy burden to carry around alone.”

  “You have your own life to worry about.” Layla tilted her head in Mia’s direction.

  Wil sighed. “I think you should tell him. Together, the two of you can figure out how you want to handle your relationship. He may not be able to declare himself to be your father or even act like he is, but you owe it to the both of you to reveal the truth.”

  “I just worry that he will get in trouble with the Voltons. After my mother’s death, he threw himself into that life. He’s carved out a place for himself, and he’s happy doing his work. I don’t want to jeopardize that.”

  Wil recalled calm, steady Holt. He reminded Wil more of Mars than any other Volton he’d encountered. Despite his disciplined life and vows, Mars had been more of a parent to Wil, Vespa, and Nash than Jesper ever had.

  “I had limited interaction with him while we there, but from what I saw, he is a capable man. And I think you get some of your rebellious spirit from him.” He smiled. “Holt managed to skirt the Volton rules and tell us the truth about the First Ones, and he warned us about the Outlander queen. Between the two of you, I’m certain you can figure out a way to be father and daughter without risking his position in Volton.”

  “Thank you, Wil.”

  “Even though…” He ran a hand through his hair and swallowed hard. “Even though we can’t be together like I had hoped, you should know I’ll always be here if you need me, Layla. Always.”

  Chapter Nine

  Nash

  Nash raised an eyebrow, evaluating the woman in the bed. Despite his bride’s beauty, he couldn’t bring himself to do what she wanted.

  She narrowed her eyes. “You agreed to be my husband but won’t come into my bed?”

  “I told you I would marry you and not attempt an escape if you left my family alone. I held up my end of the bargain.”

  She folded her arms and heaved an exasperated sigh. “We must create an heir, Nash. You don’t understand how powerful we can be together and how much more powerful a child would make us.”

  “Look, Cataleen, you may have been able to force me to do a great many things, but you can’t force me to do this.” He smirked, glad to have the upper hand for once. “I want to talk to Zarina.”

  Her clear green eyes flared. For a moment, he worried he may have overstepped his bounds and endangered the girl trapped inside.

  Cataleen’s mouth twisted into a frown that marred her otherwise attractive features. “Why? Do you have feelings for that pathetic little waif?”

  He laughed, just to infuriate her more. After all the time he’d spent in captivity, tortured by her every action, he enjoyed upsetting her now. Served her right. “Zarina’s just more interesting than you are.”

  The queen leapt off the bed and landed on Nash. She didn’t weigh enough to even knock him off balance. He caught her effortlessly and set her down. Uncomfortable with their close proximity, he stepped back.

  His wife reached up to strike him, but he caught her hand. “You’ll never be stronger than me, Cataleen.”

  She grinned, a creepy mixture of pleasure and anger. “I do love your strength, but don’t think for a moment it will stop me from getting what I want. I’ll have you one way or another.”

  He tightened his grip on her wrist. She smirked and nuzzled closer to him. When he jerked back, Cataleen sprung at him, locking her hands behind his head.

  As Nash reached up to loosen her grip, she shuddered. He recognized her impending change and wrapped his arms around her to keep her from falling as her body went limp. When she raised her head, Zarina stared back at him. Her heartbeat knocked against his chest like a stranger seeking entrance during a raging storm. His own responded by quickening.

  His gaze dropped to her lips, which were separated from his by mere inches. He could have closed the distance between them if he’d wanted. The realization—that he did want to—struck him hard. With far more deference than he showed Cataleen, Nash set Zarina down and moved away.

  “Zarina?”

  She dropped her head. A shy smile teased her lips. “Nash. I can’t believe—”

  He held up a finger to stop her. “Can she hear us?”

  Zarina nodded. Nash dug into his pocket, pulled out a few marjoram leaves, and handed them to her. She rushed them into her mouth before Cataleen could force a change.

  Nash ran a finger along the side of her cheek. “Is it safe?”

  She nodded. “Nash, why in the world did you agree to marry her?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  She shook her head.

  He smoothed down a flyaway hair near her forehead and smiled—his first genuine smile in days. “To save you.”

  “Me?” Pink bloomed on her cheeks like the peonies he’d seen growing in the fields of Etherea.

  Her blush reminded him of Layla. An icy stream of grief slithered down his spine as he imagined her lying in Wil’s arms. A thick lump lodged itself in the back of his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut to block out the memory, still vicious in its assault.

  When he opened them again, Zarina regarded him with curiosity. “Are you all right?”

  He cleared his throat but the lump remained. “Yes, I’m fine.” She scrunched up her nose like she didn’t believe him. He glanced away. “I asked my brother Wil to go to Volton and find a way to free you from Cataleen.”

  “But why? You could have gone with them and been free of this place. You could have run and never looked back. Why would you risk all of that?”

  At night, with Cataleen’s lithe body—so slight compared to Layla’s—burrowed against him, he asked himself that very question. His own heartache and his desire to help his family escape played a role, he knew, but something else held him here.

  A stray strand of her auburn hair, the same one he’d smoothed earlier, curled around the top of Zarina’s forehead, knocking several other pieces down to frame her face. Her beauty bewitched him once again. Without the sinister aura cast by Cataleen, this face held a soft vulnerability that enchanted him. Those clear green eyes lost their eerie, disturbing quality and replaced it with curiosity and wonder.

  “My choice to stay had something to do with you.”

  “Me?” Her blush deepened.

  Nash enveloped her in his arms. Instead of comparing her to Layla, like he always did when Cataleen coiled herself around him, he enjoyed the feel of Zarina’s tall, willowy frame against his stronger, more muscular one. She sucked in a surprised breath. Propelled by a force he couldn’t name, Nash lowered his lips until they touched hers.

  She melted against him. Still kissing, he reached up and tucked stray pieces of hair behind her ear. His hand lingered on the side of her face before resting at the base of her neck. She moaned. Their kiss deepened. For an instant, he reconsidered his ban on marital relations, but the thought of Cataleen resurfacing during the act kept him from engaging.

  Zarina quivered. For a moment, Nash mistook her behavior for passion but soon recognized the impending shif
t. He broke their kiss and stepped away until the full distance of the room separated them.

  “Nash—” Zarina reached out a hand before Cataleen reabsorbed her.

  Her charming face twisted into a snarl. “So, you’ll kiss her but not me?”

  “I told you she was more interesting.”

  She dropped her traditional sneer and furrowed her brow. “What is it that you like so much about her?”

  “That’s easy. She isn’t you.”

  Chapter Ten

  Layla

  The Volton Village loomed in the distance like a mirage in the middle of the deserted grassland. Layla’s stomach knotted the closer they got to the main house and her father.

  “Layla?” Samson maneuvered his horse beside hers.

  “Hmmm?”

  “Look, I’m not the best at feelings and stuff, but I can tell something’s wrong. I just want you to know you can talk to me.” He cleared his throat and tapped his chest a few times. “I’m your brother, and I love you.”

  A slow, grateful smile spread across her face. Tears pricked her eyes. Warmth radiated from her core and went straight to her wounded heart. “I love you too.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “So, do you want to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, good.”

  She laughed at the relieved look on his face. He feigned horror and then joined her laughter. Wil and Mia, who rode together ahead of them, turned in their saddles at the sound. Their faces sucked the joy right out of Samson and Layla’s sentiment.

  Her brother applied pressure to the reigns and slowed his horse. “So, I guess they’re together now.”

  “I don’t know.” Layla matched his pace, wondering if he needed to talk more than she did.

  “What do you mean you don’t know?”

  “Just what I said. She’s pregnant, and Wil is the father. As far as I know, they’re going to try to make it work.” She ground her teeth to keep from frowning.

  “But he loves you.”

  Those words, spoken by her oblivious brother, brought tears to her eyes. She wiped at her face, furious at her weakness.

  Samson wrinkled his nose. “Oh blessed be the First Ones, Layla, I’m sorry. Geez, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He fumbled around in his saddlebag and pulled out a wrinkled shirt. With a sheepish grin, he offered it.