by Erin Rhew
Nash looked at her, his eyes full of tenderness and pain. A lump formed in her throat. She wanted to reach out to him, but she just kept walking.
“It will happen one day, Layla.” How could he sound so sure? “If the fate of this world truly does lie in someone’s hands, I’m glad those hands are yours.”
She blushed at his flattery. “When I first came here, I didn’t believe in the possibility of peace, but the more I’m here, the more I see how good the Ethereal people are. You are not the monsters we were taught about as children. If the Vanguards could escape Vance’s evil influence and understand Ethereals, it actually is possible…though I still don’t believe I’m the one to make it happen.”
Nash laughed. “I’m glad you don’t still think I’m a monster.”
Against her better judgment, she stopped short and placed her hand on his arm. Her fingers came alive when they met his skin.
“I could never think that of you, Nash.”
He cleared his throat, sliding just out of reach. She flinched. His simple movement—away—and the stinging rejection of it hurt more than a physical strike. When Nash met her eyes, for just a moment before looking away, Layla saw his regret.
“I’m sorry, Nash.” She cradled her hand to her chest, her skin still tingling from the contact.
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry, Layla. I’m more sorry than you could ever know.”
Without looking back, he strode on ahead, leaving her alone in the courtyard. She sighed. How would she and Nash ever be able to reconcile their feelings for one another? She had hoped their attraction would lessen over time, but it hadn’t.
At the same time, her feelings for Wil grew. He was one of the kindest people she’d ever met. How could she not like him? Even though Wil never mentioned it, she knew Elder Werrick pressured him, on a near constant basis, to proceed with their scheduled marriage. Yet Wil shielded Layla from those conversations and from the arguments between Werrick and the king. She appreciated that more than she could ever express to him. His quiet, gentle strength intrigued her.
“Layla.”
She turned at the sound of her name to find Wil coming toward her, a big smile on his face. She waved and walked back to meet him. Her heart may not flutter like it did in Nash’s presence, but a warm joy spread through her every time she saw the prince.
“How was the fighting today?” He smiled when she reached him.
“Nash is a tough fighter.” She kept her answers vague, nervous about discussing Nash with Wil.
“He definitely is.”
“Why doesn’t he perform Alterations like the rest of you?”
A thousand times, Layla had wanted to ask Nash this very question but stopped herself. She knew his lack of traditional Ethereal abilities disappointed his father, and she didn’t want to make Nash feel even worse than he already did. Still, the question nagged her.
“I’m not sure. He’s able to do it, but he can’t create vivid images like Vespa and I can. I really think he could have become proficient at it, but our father was always so critical that Nash just stopped going to training sessions. Besides, Nash has never needed to utilize Alterations. Somehow, he is just as strong as any Vanguard.”
“He is quite competent with a sword…for an Ethereal.” She bit her lip to keep a smile from her face.
“Hey!” Wil feigned offense. They both laughed.
“Wil,” Layla grew serious, afraid yet determined to tell him, “I want you to do an Alteration on me.”
“What?” He stopped walking and turned to face her. “I thought you hated Alterations. Don’t Vanguards think they are evil?”
“I want to see what it’s like, and I want you to teach me how to put up mind guards. I don’t want to put your life or anyone else’s in danger because I can’t protect my mind in a fight.”
He studied her face for a long while before he spoke. “You’re sure?”
She nodded and swallowed hard. “Just don’t make it scary.” A nervous laugh escaped her throat.
“Never.”
Wil stepped back and focused his blue eyes on her. Her body grew hot. Though Wil hadn’t moved, a gentle sensation ran across her forehead, like a physical touch.
“Wait!”
Everything she’d been feeling vanished as Wil released her from the Alteration. He stepped forward and held his hand out to touch her, but dropped it back down to his side. “Have you changed your mind?
“No, I just need to know. You won’t take any memories, right, and I won’t go mad from it. Right?” She hated the scared, desperate nature of her question, but she couldn’t proceed without knowing.
He smiled reassuringly. “No, it will feel like a dream.”
“Okay.” She pushed out a breath. “I trust you.”
He smiled, such a broad smile, she couldn’t help but return it as the truth of her words became clear. She did trust Wil because she would never let just anyone access her mind. Wil’s blue eyes narrowed again as he resumed his concentration.
As before, heat swept over her, followed by a slight tingling sensation. Suddenly, a big open field unfolded around her. She blinked, taking in the scene. Flowers stretched as far as the eye could see. Their beautiful hue matched Wil’s eye color. Layla ran forward, twirling and spinning, as the sun’s warmth spread over her. It did feel like a dream…not scary at all.
In a flash, the scene changed. She stayed in the same field, but the season shifted from spring to winter. Instead of the dress she’d been wearing, a thick fur coat now draped her body. Layla felt warm despite the cold air around her. Snow, knee deep, covered every surface. She lifted her head and caught a stray snowflake in her mouth. Layla laughed with pleasure. She loved seeing and feeling the snow without experiencing the bitter cold.
She bent down and rolled a ball of snow in her hands. When she rose, Layla saw someone approaching in the distance. Wil.
“Wil.” She waved.
Despite the depth of the snow, he jogged over effortlessly and stopped in front of her.
“Wil.” She repeated his name like a prayer.
“Layla.” He matched her reverence.
They smiled at one another. Were his cheeks flushed from the run or because he was happy to see her? Her own cheeks grew warm in response.
“It’s beautiful here, Wil.”
“You’re beautiful.” She shivered, not from the cold but from his huskiness.
She drew in a sharp breath when he pulled her into his arms. A surprising ripple of pleasure ran down her body. Had she experience the reaction herself, or had he planted it as part of the Alteration? She couldn’t be sure.
Wil cupped her face in his hands. “I’m falling for you.”
With exquisite care, he brought their faces closer. Lingering a fraction above her lips, he smiled. She wiggled in anticipation. His kiss began slowly, a savory sampling, but the longer it lasted, the more she responded. She wrapped her arms around his waist. His hands slid from her cheeks, down her neck, past her arms, and settled around her waist. Their mutual passion grew, and the kiss became more frantic, more heated. Layla stumbled backward, overwhelmed by her turbulent emotions.
She lost her footing, and they both fell without letting go. The snow beneath her felt more like a cloud, soft and warm, instead of cold and harsh. Or maybe Wil’s kisses made her warm…she couldn’t decide. She ran her hands up and down his muscular back, and he moaned with pleasure.
“Layla.” A sharp call interrupted her vision, the scene faded.
She opened her eyes, not even realizing they had been closed. She blinked to adjust to her actual surroundings. She struggled to separate reality from the Alteration.
“Wil.” Heat rose to her cheeks. He stood several paces away, so much farther than she expected.
His urgent tone and troubled eyes shook her awake. His panicked face did not match the impassioned one she’d seen in the dream. She didn’t understand.
“We have to go,” he said. “Now.”
His jaw muscle flexed. “My messenger just told me that Vance managed to attack a small Ethereal village. Grant didn’t warn us. ”
“What? I’m sure my brother didn’t know. He would never intentionally hurt the Ethereal people.” She paused. “Not anymore anyway.”
“We have to get to the meeting room to find out more information.”
They tore through the courtyard toward the castle. All the questions she had about the Alteration, all the confusing feelings, would have to be set aside right now for the sake of Etherea.
* * * *
Wil and Layla flew down hallways and burst through the doors of King Jesper’s meeting room. Glancing around, she saw Nash, Vespa, and Queen Sansolena had already arrived. She stepped away from Wil and flushed.
“Why didn’t we know about this attack?” Jesper raged.
“As Vance has grown more paranoid, information has grown scarce,” Nash argued. “Forgetting that, we have to respond. He can’t attack our people like that. Father, he slaughtered women and children.”
“That’s enough out of you, Nash. If I wanted your opinion, I would ask for it. Since you no longer seem capable of providing useful military intelligence, sit down and shut up.”
Nash raised his chin a notch, glowering at his father, before taking a seat. When their gazes met, Layla saw Nash’s humiliation. She wanted to go and wrap her arms around him despite still being hurt over his earlier rejection. He dropped his gaze, focusing instead on the table and would not make eye contact again.
“Father, I agree with Nash. We can’t let Vance’s attack stand.” Wil entered the conversation.
“You boys act like I’ve never been to war.” King Jesper’s roar echoed throughout the room. Everyone shrank back from the deafening sound.
“Well, what are we going to do?” Queen Sansolena addressed her husband. She held up her bejeweled hand, creating space between Jesper and his son as her actions could somehow diffuse the tension.
Jesper’s blue eyes, so like Wil’s in color but so different in every other way, landed upon Layla. His lip turned up into a sneer, his disgust clear.
“When Elder Werrick came to me with this nonsense about the Fulfillment, I agreed even though I had reservations. With Rex on the throne in Vanguard, I thought this peace might actually be possible, but I don’t think it will ever happen since Vance has taken over. The boy king has never actually been in a war, so he’s afraid to face me on the battlefield. Given that, he’ll continue to make these cowardly attacks on our people rather than take us head on.”
Nash’s head jerked up. “What are you suggesting?” Layla heard the razor sharp edge to his question.
“I’m suggesting we give Layla to Vance…to protect our people.”
Layla’s mouth fell open in shock. The king meant to hand her over to certain death? All these months, she believed she’d actually found a place, however unconventional, here in Etherea. Sure, King Jesper had never been warm, but she thought he at least accepted her enough to value her life.
“Are you out of your mind?” Nash yelled. He jumped up with such force that his chair slammed into the wall behind him. Nash closed the gap in a flash, coming face to face with his father. “Absolutely not.”
Jesper shoved Nash, sending the younger man reeling into the table. Nash righted himself and lunged at the king. Jesper staggered into the chair behind him, a look of shock on his face. When Nash smashed into him again, the chair toppled backward with both of them still in it. Jesper grabbed his son by the shoulders, but Nash, his face bright red with rage, wrapped his large hands around his father’s neck.
“Nash.” Queen Sansolena, who had been watching the fray with a horrified look on her face, jumped up followed by a stunned Wil, Vespa, and Layla.
The four struggled to separate the two men. Wil gripped one of Nash’s hands while Layla grabbed the other. With their combined strength, they could barely move him. Nash’s anger added to his. Vespa and the queen screamed as the king’s eyes bulged.
“Stop it, Nash,” Sansolena pleaded, pounding on her son’s back. “You’ll kill him.”
Layla placed a hand on each side of Nash’s face, drawing his murderous gaze off his father. His jaw relaxed a little in her hand.
“Stop, Nash. Please.”
His features softened. Though she knew he didn’t want to, Nash let his father go and stood. Jesper crawled backward, getting as far away from Nash as he could. He rubbed his neck angrily.
“Get him out of my sight before I kill him.”
Vespa grabbed her older brother’s arm and pulled him toward the exit. Nash glanced back at Layla. She could see he didn’t want to leave her with Jesper, but she nodded at him, indicating she would be fine. If anything, Nash’s life needed protecting even more than hers now.
“Please, Nash. Just go.” She didn’t know whether she’d spoken aloud or just whispered the plea in her mind, but he nodded like he understood.
Nash’s gaze never left hers as he backed out of the door. As soon as his son left, Jesper jumped up. He marched toward his wife.
“I will kill him, Sans, I swear it.” His eyes flashed with anger, but the queen did not flinch.
“Father, you will not hand Layla over to Vance. I won’t allow it.” Wil drew himself up, speaking with both strength and authority.
“You’re going to be a hero now too, Wil?” Jesper taunted his son, an ugly smirk spreading across his face. “You and Nash are both idiots.”
“Really, Father? You would have us give into Vance rather than stand against him? Have you gotten cowardly in your old age?” Jesper’s face dropped as Wil’s words struck a nerve. “Besides, Layla is to be my wife. I will not allow any harm to come to her.” Wil maintained a calm demeanor in spite of his father’s harrowing gaze.
He crossed the room and stood beside her. Layla smiled at him, hoping to convey her thanks. Wil’s faith in her and his commitment to her safety touched her. Vespa came to stand on the other side of Layla, clasping the older girl’s hand with purpose.
“Father, Layla is the sister I never had. Wil, Nash, and I will stand up and protect her. We will hide her away where you will never find her if we must, but you will not give her to Prince Vance.” She tucked her hair behind her ears as she glowered.
“Get out of my sight,” King Jesper hissed, flinging his hand in obvious disgust. “Everyone except you, Sans.”
Chapter Fifteen
King Jesper
King Jesper righted his chair and sat with a heavy sigh. His wife took a seat across from him. They stared at one another in stunned silence. So many questions raced through Jesper’s mind, but he kept settling on one. The only one that really mattered—the one question he’d wondered for twenty years. One question he could never forget.
Sansolena spoke before he could open his mouth. “What just happened?” The heat of her anger singed him. “I can’t believe you thought they’d actually agree to turn over Layla. And besides, Jesper, Wil is right. We can’t give into Vance. If we do, he’ll continue to push, asking for more and more. At what point will we say enough?” She straightened her dress primly, an action that struck Jesper as odd. “I say we make our stand now. You are a competent enough commander that you could smash this upstart into the ground without a second thought.”
Jesper gawked at her, his mouth slack. He heard what she said, but the words washed over him and leaked back down onto the floor. The one thing he wanted to know dominated his thoughts, taking up residence in his mind. Everything else paled by comparison.
He opened his mouth, determined to ignore her and forge ahead with his own plans, but closed it again. Sansolena glared at him, her arms crossed. If he wanted the answer to his question, he’d have to provide one for her first.
“I don’t believe in the Prophecy.” She tightened her face at his admission. “Come on, Sans, you can’t be shocked by
that.” When she didn’t speak, he continued. “I won’t start a battle with Vance over some Elder’s irrational dream. There will never be peace between Etherea and Vanguard. If giving the girl back to Vance will prevent more Ethereals from losing their lives, I’ll do it. I’m the king of Etherea, Sansolena. What do I care about some Vanguard?”
“Your sons care.”
“Then they’re fools.”
“What if I told you I believe in the Prophecy? I believe peace can reign between Etherea and Vanguard.”
“Then you’re a fool too.”
She unwound her arms, raising one hand to her mouth, a dazed look upon her face. He knew he shouldn’t press for his answers now, but he simply had to ask. He couldn’t stand not knowing.
When Jesper rose, Sansolena eyes widened in surprise. He could see she had no idea what he planned to do, the question he had to pose. He knelt in front of his wife and took her hands in his.
“Sans, I’ve never asked you before, but I have to ask you now.”
When her brown eyes filled with fear and dread, an invisible knife carved at his chest, straining toward his chest. Yet, he pressed on, setting his jaw in determination. The question had haunted him for years, compressing his very soul until it threatened to burst. He couldn’t live another day in the dark.
“Is Nash my son?” The weight of the words choked him.
Sans snatched her hands from his and recoiled in horror, either from him or the question. His wife stared at him like a stranger, like she didn’t even know him at all. He’d said and done many foolish things in their marriage, but she had never looked at him quite like this. He didn’t know what to make of it. Was she offended? Simply angry? Or guilty?
“How can you ask me such a thing?” He hardly recognized the frosty woman speaking.
He almost faltered, almost wrapped her up in his arms to live the next twenty years in the dark, but the need to know gnawed at him. It’d been gnawing at him since the moment he laid eyes on Nash’s thick black hair. “Oh, Sans, you know why. Just look at Nash. He isn’t like the rest of us.”
