by Erin Rhew
A cry-laden giggle erupted from her lips. Good ole Samson, always there to make her laugh.
She shoved the garment back at him and knocked him a little off balance. “Keep your smelly shirt. But I appreciate the thought.”
* * *
When they arrived at the Volton main building, Layla’s companions dismounted and tied their horses to a stake outside, but she stayed in her saddle, staring at the entrance. Last time, she’d come to seek information. This time, she needed to impart her own. Able to postpone no longer, she slid off her horse to join the rest of the group. Her feet trudged upward, heavy and awkward, lacking her usual Vanguard sure-footedness.
Wil slowed his pace until she caught up to him, which left Mia with Samson at the front of the group. His fingertips brushed the back of her hand, the faintest of touches.
“If you want me with you when you tell him, I’ll stand by your side. Or if you want to tell him alone, I’ll wait outside until you’re done. Tell me what you need from me, Layla.”
The hope, etched in every feature on his face, almost swayed her. But to need something from Wil only spelled heartache for both of them. She steeled herself, drawing upon the strength of her Vanguard nature.
“Thank you, but I’ll be fine.” She kept her voice level despite her swirling emotions.
He sighed and nodded. “I’ll be here if you need me.”
She started to explain why she’d pushed him away, but then she caught sight of Volton Holt waiting at the top of the stairs. After taking a deep breath, she increased her pace and left Wil a few steps behind. She opened her mouth to greet her father, but he paid her no attention. Instead, he focused on Mia.
When the Outlander girl reached the top step, she threw herself at Holt. He wrapped his arms around her despite traditional Volton protocol and rubbed her back as she sobbed. Jealousy, hot and fierce, surged through Layla. She grappled to squelch the rampant emotion, but it flowed through her wild and free. Mia had an uncanny ability to wiggle into the most important elements of Layla’s life. The more rational side of her understood that the bond between Mia and Holt sprung from their mutual losses inflicted by the Outlander queen. But still, the Outlander girl’s intrusion left Layla standing on the outside, alone.
* * *
The group followed Volton Holt down a long series of hallways. Finally he stopped at a set of massive double doors. After opening them, he motioned for Layla and her companions to follow him inside. He bolted the lock once the last person crossed the threshold.
Layla took a step back, surprised by the spaciousness of the room. She guessed these quarters took up a large portion along the backside of the main building. A row of windows lined one half of the wall, bathing the room in sunlight. Below, sheep grazed in the fertile green pastures.
Samson leaned against the wall. “Is this your room, Volton?”
“Council members are given the largest quarters.” Holt escorted the still weeping Mia to a plush chair. She sank down into the cushions. When Wil knelt down beside Mia, Layla averted her gaze.
She turned her attention instead to her father. “You’re a member of the Volton council?”
Holt patted Mia’s knee then stared at Layla. He tilted his head to the side and scrunched up his eyes, regarding her in much the same way he had when they first met. What did he see when he looked at her? Her mother, perhaps?
“Yes. I’m fortunate to be in charge of the black arts. All the division heads hold a place on the council.”
She now understood the deference shown to him by the other Voltons. In the seventeen years since he’d lost his wife, he’d managed to forge a life for himself and create a place to belong. The knowledge gave her a small measure of comfort but also reinforced that he belonged to a group she could never be a member of.
Holt knelt beside Mia. He took her small hand in his larger one. His tenderness reminded Layla of Wil, while his fierceness reminded her of Nash. The combination created a passionate warrior with a compassionate heart. This image—her heritage—made her smile.
The Volton scrunched down his large frame until he looked Mia in the eyes. “What happened in the Outlands?”
Wil gestured for everyone to find seats around the room. Layla remained standing. Iris and Jule eased back into the sofa behind them. Grant and Samson stood guarding the door, one on either side.
As she observed them, Layla’s mind latched onto an absolute truth. Grant and Samson were her family, both in her heart and by blood. No matter how Holt would react to the news of her paternity, she would always have a true family. That knowledge spread through her, warming even the coldest parts. Samson winked when he caught her staring.
Mia sucked in strangled breaths before gaining enough composure to speak. “My whole family is gone, Volton. The queen killed my older brother and sister a long time ago, and she killed my parents and younger brother a few days ago.”
“Oh Mia. I’m so sorry.” Holt patted her hand. “She killed your older brother and sister too? When? Why?”
Mia sniffled. “My older brother, Ishum, served Queen Luna faithfully for two years. In that time, Ishum, who was very handsome, caught her eye. She took him as a lover, but he couldn’t make himself love her. After a few months together, the queen found him with one of her handmaidens and put them both to death.
“Most Outlander families have at least one member who serves in the queen’s household or army. With my brother gone, that duty fell upon my older sister, Yivem, but she resisted. My parents didn’t want her in the queen’s service any more than Yivem wanted to be in it, yet they knew she had to go. They pressured her to conform. Even as a child, Yivem bucked the rules. So she ran.”
Mia wrung her hands, her breath quickening. “Queen Luna’s soldiers tracked Yivem down as she made her way to the Borderlands. Upon the queen’s orders, they immediately executed my sister, brought her severed head to our home, and left it on the doorstep.”
She shook her head back and forth in the slow cadence of disbelief. “The remaining members of my family trembled at the mention of Queen Luna. Our family had crossed her twice. We feared she had terrible plans in store for us. When she flung herself from that castle wall a few months later, we thought we were free. We knew Luna would never have selected me to be queen, given our past history, but we believed the new queen would have no knowledge of our past crimes.” She exhaled. “We were wrong.”
Holt handed Mia a glass of water. She drained the cup in audible gulps. “Several months ago, some of the queen’s guards showed up at our house. They dragged my parents and my younger brother Emeetry to the dungeons, but took me before Queen Cataleen. I knew she expected me to enter into her service. I just had no idea what she would ask me to do.”
Mia turned to Holt, her hands raised and her expression exasperated. “I did what she asked, Volton, but she still killed my parents and Emeetry anyway…right in front of me. I’ve lost everyone.” Mia buried her face in her hands as loud sobs racked her body.
Holt embraced her and closed his eyes, his own pain evident. “She never intended to let them live. You did everything you were supposed to do.” He pulled back to look into her eyes. “It’s not your fault.” Mia nodded though fresh tears continued to streak down her cheeks.
From across the room, Jule leaned forward. “You speak as if you know our queen.”
Volton Holt patted Mia once more on the shoulder and stood. “I do. I’ve devoted my life to studying her.”
Iris leaned in to match Jule’s posture. “But you’re a Volton, committed to neutrality. Why would you study the Outlander queen?”
Holt’s jaw set. “Before I joined the Voltons, your queen killed my wife.” For the first time, Layla caught sight of the Vanguard inside the Volton. His eyes flared with rage, regret, and revenge.
From the doorway, Vespa clutched Grant’s hand. Her other hand fluttered to cover her mouth. “Oh, Volton. I’m so sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.” Layla noticed the
way his words caught in his throat. The raw pain of her mother’s death still haunted him.
Jule stood and walked closer to him. Her gray eyes flared with a hint of recognition. “You don’t look like an Outlander.”
“I’m a Volton.” He glanced down at his hands, took a deep breath, and looked back up. “But before that, I was a Vanguard.”
Samson pumped his fist in the air from the doorway. “I knew it. I didn’t ask though because I thought asking was taboo here in Volton.”
“Technically it is, but I’ve always been one to work around the rules. I do study the black arts, after all.”
“So your wife was an Outlander?” Jule cocked her head to the side.
Holt nodded. “Yes, she was.”
“That’s rare.”
“Yes.”
Samson pushed himself off the doorway. Boredom and irritation clouded his face. “Volton Holt—”
Jule slapped her hand over her mouth. “Did you say Holt?”
“Um…yeah.” Samson curled his lip and raised his eyebrow in annoyance.
Iris rose from her seat as well. She and Jule circled around the Volton, inspecting him as if he had materialized in front of them out of the ether.
The first to recover, Iris stuck out her hand. “I’m Iris.”
“Iris?” Holt shook her hand and continued shaking it as he stared at her. “Iris.” He turned to the older woman behind him. “And you are Jule?”
She nodded. Holt laughed, the sound both joyful and sad. Collecting the two women in his arms, he kissed the top of their heads. Silent tears flowed down his face, as he turned his face toward the sky.
“Oh, Daria. Still you surprise me.” A sad smile caught the teardrops on his upturned lips.
Holt’s reaction encouraged Layla. He deserved to know the whole truth.
Samson scratched his head. “What’s happening?” Vespa whispered in his ear. His eyes widened. “So Holt is my…” He pointed at Layla. “And her….”
Vespa nodded.
Wil joined the Vespa, Grant, and Samson at the door. “Come on. Let’s leave the ladies alone to talk to Holt.” He caught Layla’s eye and sent her an encouraging smile. She attempted to return it but couldn’t quite make her mouth work. Her body quaked too hard in anticipation. Wil walked over to Mia, collected her in his arms, and assisted her to the door. She leaned against him, her head lolling on his shoulder.
Wil, Vespa, and Grant smiled before they left. Samson simply winked. Their support bolstered Layla.
Holt stepped back and admired the two women in front of him. “I never thought I’d actually get to see you, though I think of you often. Daria described you in such vivid detail that I feel as if I know you myself.”
“Why didn’t you try to find us?” Iris clasped Jule’s hand.
Holt sighed. “I thought you were dead. I thought you all were dead.”
Jule nodded. “I thought so. Luna couldn’t have you coming to the Outlands to find us. You already knew too many of our secrets.”
“I loved Daria, Jule. I did.” Holt’s voice shook. He turned to Iris. “I wanted us to be a family. I naively thought we could be.”
Jule touched Holt’s shoulder. “There was nothing you could have done. The queen would never have allowed it.”
“I’ve devoted my life to finding a way to bring her down for what she did.”
“Good. We’ll do anything we can to help.” Jule’s lips set in a grim line.
Iris tugged Jule toward the door. “Let’s talk about that later. I think Layla needs to speak to the Volton.”
“Of course.”
The two women left, holding one another’s hands. Volton Holt turned to face Layla, a surprised look upon his face.
* * *
The door snicked into place. Though quiet, the sound reverberated around the room, emphasizing that they were alone. Excitement, nervousness, worry, and a host of other feelings plunged through her body at a dizzying speed. She gripped the chair beside her to steady herself.
“Are you all right, Layla?”
The words tumbled out before she could stop them. “I’m your daughter.”
He staggered backward as his face drained of all color. She didn’t know what to make of his reaction. With Iris and Jule, his relief and joy had been so immediate that she’d been expecting something similar now. Instead, he stared at her, open-mouthed.
He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “I should have known. The first time I saw you, I thought you looked like Daria. And later, some of your expressions reminded me so much of her that it pained me.” He sat down in the chair closest to him. “Why now?”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m cursing my fate. After seventeen years, why have I only found out about you now?”
She jumped up, her Vanguard impulsivity winning out over rational thought. “Well, I’ll just go and leave you to your well-constructed life then.”
Her father leapt to his feet and placed a calming hand on her shoulder. “You misunderstood me.”
She fought down her hurt and anger. “How so?”
“I mean, I would have given anything to know about you all those years ago. If I had, I never would have chosen to become a Volton. My brother Jensen tried to stop me at the Day of Dawning festival the year you were born. We fought, and I said some things I shouldn’t have. After that, I joined the Voltons. And as the First Ones would have it, Jensen ended up raising you.” Holt touched her cheek. “You’re so much like your mother, Layla. I wish you could have known her. I wish we could have been a family.”
She brushed back a tear. “Me too. Will you tell me about her?”
He brightened. “It would be my honor.”
Chapter Eleven
Wil
Wil left the others in the Volton main hall while he escorted Mia to her room, though his heart remained with Layla. She’d asked him to stay out of it, and as much as he hated being pushed away, he respected her request. Even so, he still worried about her from afar.
Wil lifted back the covers on Mia’s bed and helped her in. Dark circles surrounded her fake purple eyes. Her talk with the Volton left her even more haggard than she’d been when they’d arrived. Pulling the blankets up to her chin, she snuggled down and closed her eyes.
Wil brushed the hair out of her face. “Rest for a while.”
She nodded. “I will.”
He blew out a set of candles. Without a window or the soft glow of the candlelight, darkness cloaked the room. Just before he closed the door, Mia made an unintelligible sound.
“Did you say something?”
He strained to hear her muffled reply. “Could you ask Samson to come in here please?”
Wil blinked in confusion. “Samson?”
“Yes. Samson.”
“Ok. I’ll send him in.”
As Wil made his way to the main room, he mulled over Mia’s request. He knew she enjoyed the Vanguard’s humor, but her desire to seek solace from Samson and not him perplexed him. Mia had pushed him away just as Layla had.
Commotion in front of him captured Wil’s attention, silencing his thoughts. Voltons scurried back and forth, distressed. He’d grown so accustom to their slow, quiet movements that their angst foisted itself upon him as well. He ran forward, scanning the crowd until he found two familiar faces.
“Vespa, Grant, what’s going on?”
Vespa’s brown eyes, alight with worry, heighted Wil’s anxiety. “Elder Werrick is riding this way.”
Wil froze. “What?”
Grant wrapped his arm around Vespa’s waist. “He has the same two guards he had when we met him outside of the Ecclesiastic compound. Elders almost never come here, so the Voltons are a bit unsettled.”
Wil clenched his jaw. The meddling Elder always stuck his nose where it didn’t belong. “He must be here for us. I bet Cataleen sent him.”
“What do you think he plans to do?” Vespa wrapped her arms around her chest.
Wil
squinted, trying to see the approaching Elder through the open door. “I don’t know. Even though he doesn’t have traditional powers, we know he can bind people together. And Layla told me he could use some darker force to subdue people. He pinned her to the ground before with just his mind, and you know how strong Layla is. Who knows what other tricks he has up his sleeves?”
“Agreed.” Grant kissed Vespa’s cheek. “Why don’t you head to your room, love?”
“I will not.” She raised her chin. “I held my own in the Outlands, and I will do it here too.”
Grant smiled, though his eyes remained troubled. “Stay then.”
Samson wound his way through the crowded room to join them. “What’s going on?”
“Elder Werrick.” Vespa’s nose scrunched up as she said his name.
Samson laughed. “Can we kill him?”
“I wish,” Wil replied. “Unfortunately, we can’t disrespect the Voltons by killing an Ecclesiastic on their property.”
Samson shrugged. “Why not?”
“We wouldn’t want to start a war between these two. We already have enough trouble with Vance and Cataleen.” Wil skimmed the crowd but caught no sight of Werrick.
Samson chuckled. “Honestly, what can two groups of unarmed men with no powers really do?”
Grant shot his brother an exasperated glare.
Samson grinned. “What? It’s a fair question. The three of you could fight off a group as pathetic as Werrick’s without my help.” He winked and started to leave.
“Wait.” Wil stopped Samson’s retreat. “Mia asked to see you.”
An elated smile lit up the Vanguard’s face. “She asked to see me? Really?”
“Yes.”
Samson punched Wil lightly on the arm. “Not very suave with the ladies, are you?”
Grant slapped his brother on the side of the head. “Knock it off.”
“I was just joking. Geez.” Samson rubbed his injury and sulked before stomping off with a scowl on his face.
