The Fulfillment

by Erin Rhew

  Layla closed her eyes. “Please don’t. I’m barely holding myself together. If we start talking about it, I’ll lose my mind.”

  “Okay.” Vespa slipped her hand in Layla’s and squeezed it. “My dress looks ridiculous on you.”

  An unexpected laugh escaped Layla’s lips. “Some friend you are. I tell you I’m trying not to blubber like an idiot, and you tell me how horrible I look. How does that help?” Despite her words, Layla continued to laugh.

  “I made you laugh though. And you’ll love me no matter what.”

  “True.” Layla shook her head, still smiling.

  “On a serious note, I’ll sit here beside you if you want.”

  In that moment, Layla appreciated Vespa more than she ever had. “You can’t. You have to be up there with them.” She motioned toward the front of the room.

  Vespa shot her an exasperated look. “That’s what I’m saying. I won’t stand up there. I’ll sit down here instead, beside you.”

  Though Vespa’s words touched Layla, she couldn’t leave Wil standing there alone. “He needs you too.”

  “Fine, but I’m making sure Grant, Samson, Jule, and Iris are right here with you. You’ll need your family to pull you through.”

  Layla nodded. “Thanks.”

  The princess rose and walked over to Grant. After a few whispered words, he came over and claimed the seat beside Layla. She stifled the urge to roll her eyes. If one more person asked her how she felt…

  “Vespa sent me over.” Grant shrugged.

  “I figured. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Good.” He relaxed into the couch. “I don’t want you to talk about it.”

  “You used to do that when I was little to get me to tell you things, but you know it won’t work now, don’t you? I’m a little smarter now than I was when I was ten.”

  “If you say so.”

  Despite the tightness of the dress sleeves, she managed to punch him in the arm. He rubbed the spot in mock pain. “You have the same temper as when you were ten.”

  While she fought against an impending smile, Grant placed a firm arm around her shoulder. She sank into him, thankful for his presence. “I love you, Grant.”

  “I love you too, even if you do hit like a ten-year-old.” He winked.

  Before she could zing him with a witty comeback, Volton Holt’s door opened. Wil, followed by Volton Mars, ambled in. Though Wil wore a simple shirt and plain slacks, he carried himself like a king. His very presence commanded the attention of every person in the room, even without the traditional accouterments of royalty.

  Grant stood. Shell-shocked, Layla remained seated until he pulled her to her feet. He tightened his grip on her shoulder. She decided a physical battle often proved easier than an emotional one. She’d rather fight an enemy to the death than suffer the fallout of a broken heart.

  Wil glanced at her, a haunted, wistful look in his eyes. When Vespa joined him, she laced her arm in his, leaned in, and whispered in his ear. He nodded and forced a smile, though his gaze stayed on Layla.

  She choked down a sob rising in the back of her throat. The part of her soul eternally connected to his pleaded with her to stop the wedding and beg him not to marry Mia. Only her dignity and Vanguard stubbornness locked her in place.

  As he opened his mouth to speak, her body tingled with anticipation. Maybe he’d call off this sham of a wedding and declare his love for her instead. But she remembered their kisses in the woods, how he’d looked at her and had said goodbye without actually voicing the words.

  When he closed his mouth and set his lips in a grim line, her small flame of hope flickered out. He’d resolved to go through with the ceremony. Layla wrapped her arms around her stomach and, through sheer will, tore her gaze from his.

  * * *

  Volton Holt stepped up beside Wil. “Welcome, everyone. We’ll be getting started in a moment.” He fumbled with some papers before he slipped a medallion over his head.

  Layla had seen other Voltons wear the same emblem in other wedding ceremonies she’d attended. The necklace—with five strands interwoven—represented the bride, the groom, and each of the First Ones. Layla scowled at the orange strand—the symbol of Haddey. If it weren’t for the First One’s meddling, Wil would not be marrying Mia today. Bitterness, hot and vile, flooded Layla’s mouth.

  As Layla observed the faces of those scattered about the room, she noticed not one person smiled. The occasion seemed more like a funeral than a wedding. No one, not even the bride and groom, wanted to be here.

  As she counted the guests—her whole traveling party plus Volton Mars—she realized one person had yet to arrive.

  “Where is Samson?”

  Grant frowned. “I don’t know.”

  “If I have to be here, he does too.”

  “Relax, he’ll be here.” Volton Holt frowned. “Does anyone know where Mia is?”

  Vespa nodded. “I checked on her a few minutes ago. She said she just had to finish getting ready. Do you want me to go check again?”

  Holt shuffled his papers once more. “Well, let’s give her a few more minutes.”

  No one spoke as they waited in uncomfortable silence. Grant squeezed Layla’s shoulder again. At the altar, Vespa tucked a piece of her blonde hair behind her ear. Wil folded and unfolded his hands in front of him. In a nearby chair, Iris wiggled until the seat’s springs creaked.

  Vespa pushed another tress behind her ear. “Maybe I should go get—”

  The door burst open, and Samson charged into the room like a boar, his eyes wild.

  Grant released Layla and stepped toward his brother. “Samson, are you okay?”

  “She’s not coming.” Samson’s chest rose and fell with an unnatural rhythm.

  “What?” Vespa’s hand fluttered to her chest. “What do you mean she isn’t coming?”

  “On the way here, she said she couldn’t do it. She took off down the hall and out the main doors, screaming for me not to follow. Of course, I followed. When I finally caught up to her, Mia begged me to come back and tell all of you that she couldn’t go through with the wedding. She asked that you leave her alone, but she promised she would be back in time to help with the extraction of Haddey. Then, she um…kicked me where it hurts and ran off.”

  Wil paled. All of the tension Layla had been holding rushed out of her body.

  Vespa turned bright red. “What is that little harlot thinking?”

  “Harlot?” Samson slammed his fist against the wall.

  Grant grabbed his brother and pinned his arms behind his back. “Don’t you even think about it.”

  Wil touched his sister’s arm. “Please don’t.”

  Vespa yanked away from the contact. “Don’t defend her. She left you standing at the altar. You. The King of Etherea.”

  “Vespa, please stop. I have an idea.”

  Silence once again shrouded the room. Vespa glanced back and forth between Wil and Layla, her mouth set in a grim line. Layla’s heart pounded.

  Wil motioned for Grant and Samson to join him. The brothers exchanged quizzical looks but complied.

  A smile the size of the Outlands broke out across Grant’s face. He left Samson and Wil and walked back to Vespa. Taking her hand, he knelt down on one knee. Her face lit up with surprise.

  “Marry me, Vespa. Right here, right now.” He kissed her hand. “I’ve never wanted anything more than I want to be your husband.”

  Unshed tears sparkled in Vespa’s eyes. Instead of answering, she turned to her brother. “Wil, this day belongs to you. I could never intrude.”

  Wil grinned. “This day belonged to me. It doesn’t anymore—I’m giving it to you…if you want it.” He winked.

  Vespa glanced down at Grant, who remained on his knee awaiting her answer. She pulled him to his feet and jumped into his arms. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes.”

  Layla choked back her own tears of joy. Despite her efforts to avoid him, her gaze flew to Wil. The exp
ression on his face forged a hole deep into her heart. In his eyes, she saw a love and heartache that reflected her own.

  As Wil stepped down from the altar, Grant placed his hand on the Ethereal king’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

  “Take care of my little sister.”

  “Always.”

  “Wait.” Vespa grabbed Wil’s arm and hauled him back up onto the steps. “I want you and Layla to stand up here with us.”

  Samson flung his arms wide. “Well, I guess I know where I stand then.” Grant shot his brother an icy glare. “What about Mother and Father, Grant? They’re here in Volton. Don’t you think they’d want to see your marriage?”

  Grant furrowed his brow. “You’re right.”

  The color drained from Holt’s face. “Conducting a wedding in the quarters of a Volton Council member is against the protocol. If we invite Grant’s parents, we run the risk of discovery.” He nudged Layla.

  “Holt is right. We must maintain secrecy. I think Mother and Father would understand. Don’t you, Samson?”

  “No. Mother will cry, and I don’t want any part of that. What about your mother, Vespa? Wouldn’t she be upset?”

  The princess’ face fell. “She would.”

  Wil pulled a letter from the pocket of his pants and held it up. “No, she wouldn’t. I have proof right here.”

  Grant slid a finger along Vespa’s face and then whispered into her ear. She nodded and brightened.

  He laughed and clasped her hand. “Since the bride agrees, I guess we’ll just have to have two weddings—one here today and one in Etherea later.”

  Wil stood beside Vespa while Layla moved into position beside Grant. As her father officiated Vespa and Grant pledging their lives and love to one another, Layla’s eyes never left Wil’s.

  * * *

  In the dining hall, the group congregated for a secret wedding celebration. Passing Voltons gave curious stares but did not comment. Holt positioned himself clear across the room to avoid the appearance of fraternization. Oblivious to anyone else, the bride and groom gazed at one another, their love and adoration obvious on their faces. Layla stood next to Wil and attempted to sort out the complicated amalgamation of emotions howling within her.

  “You didn’t have to throw me a welcoming party.” Layla’s head snapped up at the sound of that voice.

  Nash and Zarina entered the dining hall and crossed over to the group. Vespa leapt into her brother’s arms while Wil shook his free hand. Layla hung back. Nash’s gaze flitted to her for a moment before darting away.

  “Nash.” Wil’s grin stretched the whole width of his face. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  Nash winked. “Didn’t I tell you I’d be fine? Have a little faith, Wil. It’s always worked for me.”

  From his location in the corner, Holt motioned for Layla to join him. She nodded and tapped Wil’s shoulder. “My father needs to see me.”

  Wil frowned. “Is everything all right? Would you like me to accompany you?”

  She shook her head and left the group.

  Taking a seat across from Holt, Layla folded her hands and assumed a formal posture rather than the relaxed, familial one she used when they were alone. “What’s wrong?”

  He glanced around before answering. “I’m getting pressure from the other council members about my black arts study. They are concerned that Elder Werrick and the Ethereal king are in Volton at the same time, and the Outlander queen’s presence will only give them more fodder. I think they believe I am instigating some kind of group attack against the Vanguards. I can’t tell them the truth, so we’ve got to get moving on this extraction.”

  “That’s absurd. I’m a Vanguard…at least as far as they know. So are Grant and Samson.”

  “I didn’t say their concerns held merit. I’m simply reporting what’s been told to me.”

  She ground her teeth. “Do you know how to perform the extraction?”

  “I hope so. We don’t have time to explore other options. It’s now or never, so make sure your people know.”

  Layla rejoined her friends and family. Wil leaned over to whisper in her ear, and his fingertips brushed against her skin. She jumped. Though the current they used to feel had dissipated that day on the Ethereal battlefield, his touch still invigorated her.

  His stubble tickled her ear as he spoke. “Are you going to tell Nash the truth? He needs to know you didn’t betray him.”

  “I’ll tell him. I’m just waiting for the right time.”

  “There’s no time like the present, Layla.”

  She squeezed his arm and nodded. Wil—always the peacemaker. Though his own life lay in shambles around him, he still sought happiness for those he loved. Pinpricks of pain perforated her heart. Even if she told Nash the truth, no happy ending could exist for any of them. Wil would still be tormented by Mia, Nash would still be married to Cataleen, and she would still be alone, the Fulfillment who couldn’t fulfill anything.

  She closed her eyes and fought the turmoil in her nervous stomach. “Nash? May I speak to you for a moment?”

  A hush fell over their small corner of the dining room. Nash whispered to Zarina. When she nodded, he sighed and stepped toward Layla. “I guess.”

  She led Nash out of the dining room and down the hall to Holt’s quarters. They walked in tense silence. Given what they’d been through together, a superficial discussion about the weather would trivialize the moment.

  Layla pushed open Holt’s double doors. She almost screamed when she noticed Volton Mars sprawled out on the floor just a few feet away. She rushed over to him.

  “Volton?” Layla rolled him over.

  “Layla!” The panic in Nash’s voice jarred her.

  The doors slammed, and Nash crumpled to the ground in front of them. Confused and scared, she ran to his side and checked his pulse.

  “Nash?”

  He opened his eyes and stared at her, a shocked expression on his face. “Run, Layla.”

  Before she could process his words, a sharp pain pierced her neck, and she collapsed on the floor beside him.

  * * *

  Layla awoke to find Elder Werrick grunting and sweating as he shoved her beside Nash on the couch. Despite the pounding in her head, she shot him her most menacing glare. She reached up to wrap her arms around his neck and choke the life out of him, but her limbs stayed motionless in her lap.

  Werrick arranged himself in a chair across from them, a smug grin spreading across his jowls. “In a minute or two, you should be able to speak. Regaining the feeling in your arms and legs will take a little longer though.”

  Layla cast him another dirty look—her only recourse. Her mind raced as she considered the different poisons she’d studied with Volton Mars. None manifested these particular symptoms. She frowned.

  Werrick laughed. “Are you wondering what I used on you? Well, we have our own scientists in the Outlands, you know. The queen gives them ample space to work as long as they provide her with tools she deems useful.” His black eyes glinted. “This serum paralyzes the body. I have to be very careful with the dosages though. Too much, and you’d be completely knocked out. Too little, and you could scream. The dose I gave you will allow you speak, but you’re vocal chords will be too constricted for screaming.” He glanced toward Nash. “Although I had to improvise when you brought in the big guy.”

  Werrick stood for a moment and checked Nash’s pupils. A weak growl emanated from Nash’s motionless body. The Elder, unimpressed by the Vanguard’s implied threat, returned to his seat.

  Layla rolled her eyes in the direction of Volton Mars. She hoped her eyes spoke what her mouth could not.

  “You want to know if he’s dead. No. Not yet. I gave him the same serum, but I knocked him out on purpose. I had plans for his demise, which you and your Vanguard lover interrupted. The two of you have proven quite adept at ruining my plans, first in Etherea and now here.”

  “How?” Layla managed to produce a raspy squeak, surprised by h
ow much effort the small sound required.

  “How what? How have you ruined my plans? Oh, you should know the answer to that, girl.” Elder Werrick’s beady eyes shimmered with wicked pleasure.

  “No, how are you awake?”

  The Elder clasped his hands near his chin like a jubilant child. “Oh, that’s a delightful tale. Poor Mars thought we should rehash our former lives together, mend fences and that sort of nonsense, so he asked dear Vespa to awaken me. Ah, Mars, he always expects the best out of people and typically receives the worst. One day, he’ll learn.”

  “You’re working with Haddey. You have been since Etherea.” She forced each word from her lips, struggling against the tightness in her throat.

  “Yes, I am. And I’ve been working with her long before Etherea, girl. You Vanguards think you’re so smart, but you’re nothing but a bunch of muscled swine. We Outlanders have always been the ones with the brains.”

  “Have you always known about Haddey?”

  “I wondered, but Cataleen confirmed it for me.”

  She swallowed in a futile attempt to wet her parched throat. Beside her, Nash said nothing. She wondered if his silence meant he couldn’t speak or that he’d chosen not to for strategic purposes. Believing the latter for her own sanity, she cleared her mind of panic and focused on defeating Elder Werrick.

  Little by little, the tension in her throat released. “Why did you ask for Mia when you found us on the roadside on the way to Volton? You must have known Haddey’s plans.”

  “Are you really so ignorant, child? I knew that if I could get you to believe that I wanted her, you’d be even more determined to keep Mia yourself. It was all part of the plan. Sending her to Etherea, pretending she meant something on the roadside, having her shift into you and sleep with Wil so we could show that scene to Nash…all of it.”

  Nash’s eyes widened. “It wasn’t you?” He held her stare.

  Relief flowed through her when he spoke, though his voice sounded as bad as hers. “No, it wasn’t. I tried to tell you in the Outlands, but you wouldn’t listen.”