by Erin Rhew
“Is no one going to mention the fact this whole thing is a trap?” Vespa made eye contact with each person at the table. “The Outlander queen can wipe out the future of Etherea all at once.”
Wil glanced over at Layla. He sought her opinion above all else. She nodded, her jaw tight with determination. He knew then she would stand beside him. Catching her gaze, he offered her a grateful smile.
Beside him, Layla stomped her foot in indignation. “If we don’t go, the Outlander queen will kill Nash. What choice to do we have?”
Sansolena blew out an exasperated breath and sat back hard against the chair, her arms crossed. Wil noted her momentary lapse of restraint. Face set, she leaned toward him, her control regained. “I simply will not allow it.”
“Mother, I’ve been briefed on the whole situation. Nash was right. We need to find out more about the Outlanders.”
“But you don’t have to go.” The queen pointed her finger at him. “I just got you and Vespa back, and I refuse to lose either of you again.”
Samson rubbed his neck. “The queen’s message named Wil, Vespa, and Layla. She expects them. Trust me, you don’t want to cross her.”
“The plan is set.” Wil’s gaze bore into his mother. Her nose turned up, but she remained silent as he continued. “I will take Samson, Layla, Vespa, Grant, and Mia with me. We will gather as much information as possible and rescue Nash.”
Layla crinkled her brow. “Mia? Why would you bring her?”
“And why wouldn’t he? She’s done nothing to harm Etherea.” Samson’s face grew red with indignation. Wil studied Layla’s brother, whom he’d spent little time with. Why did the boy have such an affinity for the prisoner?
“This whole situation began with Mia.” Wil held up a hand to ward off Samson’s rebuttal before he could make it. “I trust Layla’s assessment. There is more to this partial Outlander than meets the eye.”
“Wil.” Rex glanced between him and his mother before proceeding. “Your mother has a point. We already sent the acting king to the Outlands, and now he is their captive. Don’t you think it ill-advised to send the actual king as well? If you are captured, there is nothing to hold the kingdom together. Think of your people, Wil. As leaders, we must sometimes put aside our personal desires and think of the well-being of those who trust us to lead.”
Wil considered Rex’s wise words. Truth resided in the statement, yet Wil knew, in a place deep within his soul he couldn’t explain or defend, he had to go to the Outlands. Only this hand-picked group stood a chance of rescuing Nash and ascertaining the Outlander’s true motivations.
“What you say makes a great deal of sense, King Rex, but I have to go.” Wil made pointed eye contact with everyone in the room. “We all do.”
Sansolena threw up her hands in disgust. She turned and whirled out, slamming the door behind her. As the sound of her retreat echoed around the room, everyone remained silent. Rex rose to follow Sansolena.
Before he left, Rex turned back. “I’ll take care of your mother and the kingdom while you’re gone.”
Wil nodded. This man, who had been a sworn enemy for as long as Wil could remember, loved his mother, and Wil did not doubt Rex would give his life to defend both her and the Ethereal people. What a strange turn of events…
“I see you are determined to go.” Mars ambled over to stand beside Wil. “At least promise me you will stop in the Borderlands and let the Voltons there attend you. I still can’t figure out why you awoke early when your mother commanded you to remain asleep until your body healed. Yet, here you are, awake, but not restored. Remember, such a demanding physical journey will drain you. I will write a letter on your behalf to ensure the Voltons take you in. You will need their assistance.”
“Thank you.” The words seemed insufficient to show his appreciation for the man who always stood behind him and considered his best interests. Wil’s mouth flooded with the sour taste of guilt as he withheld information he knew the Volton wanted…why he had awoken early.
Yes, Sansolena had commanded him to remain asleep until his body had healed, but he had somehow overridden it. When he heard Layla crying out to him, saying how much she needed him, Wil had no choice but to awaken. He had no answer for how he’d been able to break the Alteration. He did know he loved Layla so much that he couldn’t leave her floundering. Please Wil, I need you.
Her words echoed through his mind, even as she spoke aloud. “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but you made the right choice. I’ll go with you and fight by your side, trap or no trap.” The pink returned to her face. After what transpired between them in his room, he understood how she couldn’t look at him without blushing.
“Thank you.”
Vespa sighed. “I suppose I’ll go on your harebrained mission too, brother. I can’t very well send you out there alone when you are injured. If you have to perform an Alteration, you’ll need me to stand with you. We’ve always been stronger together.”
He grinned at his sister. She stuck out her tongue but then smiled.
“If Vespa is going, count me in,” Grant said.
“And I’m sure Samson is all too eager to go since we’re taking Mia.” Layla rolled her eyes.
Grant shook his head. “For some reason, our brother is smitten with that girl.”
“We’d better get moving. We have a lot to do to get prepared.” Wil stood, keeping his face neutral despite the pain shooting through his shoulder. He wouldn’t show any signs of weakness. They had to go to the Outlands.
Chapter Thirteen
Layla
Layla awoke with a start. She bolted up, trying to get her bearings. Beside her, Vespa slept, not at all disturbed, and on the other side of Vespa slept Mia. Ire rose within her as she stared at the Halfling. If Mia would have just been honest, Nash may have never gotten captured, and they wouldn’t be out here now.
Layla pushed her way out of the tent and gulped in the fresh air. As she stretched, she noticed Wil sitting on the log beside last night’s fire pit, poking the ashes with a stick. He rubbed the spot where Vance had stabbed him, unaware that Layla watched.
For the past three days of their trip, Wil had been careful to avoid letting anyone see how much the journey depleted his energy, but she knew. She saw it in the lines of his face, in the sallow color of his cheeks. Despite his best efforts, the injury slowed them. A ride that should have taken only two days had been stretched to three. Layla hoped Wil’s determination wouldn’t cause further injury or worse.
“Layla.” Wil waved his good arm at her.
He rose as she walked toward him. They had not been alone together since that day in his room, but the memory of it burned within her. She felt the familiar and annoying heat rise to her cheeks as she approached him. Wil’s mouth turned up, lighting up his whole face.
“Wil! Good morning!” a voice called from the tents. Layla suppressed a groan. Mia.
A flash of annoyance crossed Wil’s face, but he rearranged his features into a polite smile. He waved.
“Good morning, Mia.”
“Can I get you anything? Water? Breakfast?” The Halfling fluttered around him like a little bird while Layla fought the urge to smack her. Since they’d left the kingdom, Mia hovered around Wil all day, every day.
“I’m fine for now. Thank you though.”
Disappointment clouded Mia’s face. “Okay, then. I guess I’ll go collect firewood then.” She stepped back, her gaze never leaving Wil’s face.
They watched Mia walk away in silence. Once she’d gone far enough out of earshot, Wil leaned in closer to Layla. “That was awkward.”
She held her tongue though she wanted to tell him how much it annoyed her to see Mia by his side. Layla had no right to be jealous…yet she was.
“She seems sweet and well-intentioned.” Layla choked out the words.
To her surprise and confusion, Wil let out a hearty laugh. He stepped forward and brushed his lips against her cheek. Her whole body went hot,
then cold, then hot again.
Before she could respond, the rest of their group straggled out of the tents. Mia and Samson worked on making their breakfast while Layla, Grant, Vespa, and Wil broke camp and packed up the bags. As they worked, Layla noticed Wil struggling to pull up one of his stakes. His blond hair lay matted against his forehead as sweat ran down his cheeks. She could tell he exerted much more effort than necessary, another indication his healing had not progressed like he would have them believe.
She slid up beside him and offered in a low voice, “Do you want some help?”
Her offer embarrassed him, she could tell, but they both knew he needed it.
He closed his eyes and nodded. “Thank you.”
With her Vanguard strength, she removed the remaining stakes with ease and packed up the rest of his tent. Wil watched her with longing. She flushed.
Layla wracked her brain to find something to do with her hands, a way to use up some of the nervous, unsettled energy building up within her. “I’d better check your wound. Volton Mars made me promise to check and re-bandage it every few days.”
Without a word, he unbuttoned his shirt and eased it over the shoulder near his wound. Layla swallowed. Her gaze followed the hard lines of his chest down to the taut muscles of his stomach until they rested on the sloping v of his hips. She swallowed again, her mouth dry. He took her breath away.
“Layla?” he asked as his eyebrows rose.
She snapped up her head. Avoiding eye contact, she reached down into the medical bag and pulled out the supplies Volton Mars had packed.
“Why do you think we no longer feel that buzzing between us?” Wil’s question surprised her. The electrical current, which had once been such a prevalent part of her life in Etherea, had not crossed her mind in a long time. She furrowed her brow, the answer eluding her.
“I don’t know.”
“I never knew why it happened, and now I want to know why it doesn’t. I originally thought it had to do with Werrick, but on the battlefield…”
She pulled her black hair around her face to hide the burn in her cheeks. “I know.”
“While I slept…” She looked up when he paused, sensing his turmoil. “While I slept, did you feel it with Nash?”
“No. Like you, I last felt it on the battlefield. Not since then.”
His shoulders relaxed. “Curious.”
She found the salve and stood. Her fingers, usually steady during medical care, trembled as she pulled off his bandage. The wound had closed, yet the edges around it puckered, a dark angry purple color staining the skin.
“I think something is wrong.” She leaned in to inspect his injury closer.
“I’m fine,” Wil insisted. The huskiness of his voice distracted her. She licked her lips, parched all of a sudden.
Layla fumbled around in the sack until she found a different salve the Volton had instructed her to apply should she see signs of infection. As she dabbed the ointment on the spot, Wil sucked in a sharp breath. She jumped back.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No.” His eyes flamed, not with pain, but with desire.
She sped up the process, for both their sakes. After reapplying the bandage, she started to move away, but he caught her arm, pulling her to him. A tingle ran up her spine as she leaned into him and pressed her hands on his bare chest. His hard muscles didn’t have the same feel as a Vanguard’s, but, to her surprise, she liked his even better.
“Wil.”
“Thank you.” He lowered his forehead to hers. They stood there, just the tips of their heads touching until Samson’s shout disrupted the moment.
“Breakfast! Everyone come and get it while it’s hot.”
She stepped back to turn and head toward the campfire.
“Layla, I lo—”
“Breakfast! Now! Does anyone hear me?” Samson called.
Mia
Mia slipped behind a tree, close enough to see Wil and Layla but not quite close enough to hear them. She watched as Layla removed the bandage covering Wil’s wound, and, though she could not hear him, she saw Wil’s reaction. His mouth parted, and his eyes closed. When he opened them, they smoldered. Even at this distance, she saw that. Why did he love Layla so much?
Mia had done everything she could to garner Wil’s attention, but he never once looked at her with anything resembling affection. Why not? She had purple eyes and black hair like Layla. She’d showered him with kindness and attention, so why had he done little more than tolerate her?
As Layla turned to go, Wil reached out and grab her. Her hands rested on his exposed skin. A slow warmth spread throughout her body as Mia imagined her own hands touching Wil’s chest. With his blond hair and blue eyes, he attracted her in a way no other boy ever had. She surprised herself with just how much she desired him. Her heart quickened, aching at the same time.
Mia pursed her lips. She couldn’t allow her personal feelings to interfere. When she told Layla people relied on her, she hadn’t been lying. Focusing hard, Mia centered her mind on those who needed her. She slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her sudden sobs, overcome just thinking about them.
“Breakfast! Everyone come and get it while it’s hot!” Samson’s proclamation carried loud and clear. If anyone sought to follow them or spy, that boy made them easy to find.
Mia tiptoed around the other side of the tree to find Vespa and Grant heading toward the campfire. Samson’s head whipped around, probably looking for her. When she took a final glance back at Wil and Layla, the mutual affection between them stole her breath.
Honesty…that’s what Layla could give Wil that Mia couldn’t. Even if what she said hurt him, Layla told Wil the truth while Mia snuck around in the shadows. She hated doing it, but she had no other choice.
Wiping away her tears and plastering a smile on her face, Mia joined the others for breakfast.
Chapter Fourteen
Layla
Gray buildings loomed out of the otherwise barren land. Recalling Samson’s description, Layla knew they’d reached the Ecclesiastical compound. She shivered. They had to pass by it in order to reach Volton. Though she knew that fact in her head, had known it the whole time, the reality of it taunted her, much like the buildings.
Images of men chanting in black robes while Elder Werrick yanked her toward his carriage floated through her mind. Anger burned within her as every false moment she’d spent with Nash and Wil rose to the surface. She clinched her fist and imagined driving a hard punch right into Werrick’s fat, smug face. Perhaps most Ecclesiastics behaved like fine, upstanding men, but to her, the actions of their leader marred the entire group.
“Are you all right?” Wil pulled his horse beside hers.
“No.”
“I get it.” Besides Nash, only Wil could understand.
Mia pulled up on the other side of Wil. A ridiculous grin graced her face as her gaze swept over Wil with appreciation. Layla resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Though she and Wil had no real commitment to one another, Layla felt protective of him, and she didn’t trust Mia’s motivations.
“How are you feeling, Wil?” Mia asked.
“I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” Layla caught the hint of exasperation in his answer, but the other girl appeared to miss it.
“Someone’s coming.” Grant, who lead the group, held up to halt them. “Ecclesiastics.”
Layla’s stomach tightened. Wil shifted the reins, winced, and reached out to her. She took hold of his hand. Mia’s gaze bored into her, jealousy evident.
Samson fell back to ride on the other side of Layla. He glanced at her hand, intertwined with Wil’s, and then over to the resentful expression on Mia’s face. To his credit, Samson maintained his composure, appearing stoic. He looked so much like Grant with that expression.
He raised an eyebrow, the Grant-like moment replaced by a very Samson-like twitch of the mouth. “Am I interrupting something?”
Only Layla, who knew him so well, heard the slig
ht hitch of pain in his voice. Every action he made spoke of his affection for Mia, and every action of Mia’s spoke of her affection for Wil. How had they all gotten so tangled together?
“Of course not.” Sharpness, far more than she intended, laced her words.
“We need to protect Mia and Layla. The Ecclesiastics…” Samson began, turning their attention away from their own interpersonal drama, bringing them back to the potential danger at hand. “The Ecclesiastics torture Prophecy candidates in the name of the First Ones. We cannot allow either girl to be taken.”
“You saw the candidates?” Mia’s eyes widened.
Samson stared into off into the distance. “Yes.” He turned back to her. “You never want to go there. Trust me.”
Layla swallowed hard at the horror and disgust written on her brother’s face as Mia shrank back into her saddle, a hand over her heart.
Wil squeezed Layla’s hand and flicked his gaze toward the approaching men. “It’s Werrick.”
“Prince Wilhelm.” Werrick waved his pudgy arm, a fake smile plastered on his round face.
Behind the Elder rode two hulking Ecclesiastics. Based on their body type, Layla knew they had once been Vanguards. She remembered Samson saying that men had to renounce their kingdom allegiance and give up their powers to join the Ecclesiastics, but she began to wonder if they all did. Regardless, Werrick and his two bodyguards did not stand a chance against three Vanguards and two Ethereals.
“Elder.” Ice dripped from Wil’s greeting.
“It’s King Wilhelm.” Layla matched his tone. Samson’s laughter rang out across the grasslands while Wil coughed to cover his own.
Werrick’s nose curled up. “My apologies, King Wilhelm. I assume your father met an untimely demise. So sad.” Wil flinched. “On to the most pressing question, are you two married yet?”
“We are not.” Wil’s lips tightened into a thin line. “If we marry, it will be because we choose it, not because you ordained it.”
