Book Debut: The Prophecy by Erin Albert, Book 1 of the Fullfilment Series
Back Cover
Growing up on a small farm in the
kingdom of Vanguard, seventeen-year-old Layla Givens lives a deceptively
tranquil existence. But her carefully constructed life quickly falls apart when
she’s abducted by a religious zealot who proclaims her The Fulfillment of an
ancient peace prophecy and whisks her away to marry her greatest enemy.
Wilhelm, Prince of the Ethereals, is
reluctant to meet his new bride. He's grown up believing Vanguards are evil, an
enemy to fight and fear...not love. Can he set aside his prejudices and work
alongside Layla to bring lasting peace after centuries of war?
Nash, a loner who has never fit in,
carries a huge secret, one big enough to destroy both kingdoms. When he
accidently meets Layla, he’s no longer content to live in the shadows, but he
must resist his growing attraction—for her safety and for the longevity of the
two kingdoms.
When Nash's secret is revealed, a
firestorm sweeps through both realms, with Layla at the center. Now she must
choose between duty and desire while the fate of two nations hangs in the
balance.
Excerpt
“Everything must be taken down.” A
rotund man, with beady black eyes, surveyed the town, disdain in his
expression. While he did not appear distinguishable from the other black and
purple clad men, he spoke with authority. “The First Ones and their great
Prophecy must be honored properly.” He sniffed, his actions indicating the very
existence of Medlin and its occupants offended him.
Layla wondered what this man
considered a “proper honoring” of the First Ones. The First Ones…they’d been
dead for centuries, and, as far as Layla could tell, hadn’t done much in life
except start a never-ending war. She knew nothing more about them except that
she was to thank them for good things, curse them for bad, and celebrate them
on this day.
“That’s Elder Werrick, head of the
Ecclesiastics,” whispered Samson, glancing back at Grant. Layla noticed the
look that passed between them.
Grant nodded his assent. “Get her
out of here, brother.”
Samson tried to steer Layla away,
but she held her position to get a closer look at the man whom her family so
feared. She knew they had good reason to worry—her black hair and purple eyes
marked her as a Fulfillment candidate, one with the potential to bring about
the long awaited peace. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to believe Elder
Werrick would notice her on the crowded streets, especially with her eye drops
and hood. Could he really be responsible for dragging candidates from their
homes, forcing them to undergo strenuous, sometimes gruesome, testing for the
sake of the Prophecy? To Layla, he looked like nothing more than a short, fat,
unhappy man. The very notion that he could strike such fear into the hearts of
her people seemed almost laughable…almost. As his gaze swept over the crowd,
she glimpsed a sinister undertone that made her shiver.
Waving his pudgy arms at the
awaiting townspeople, Werrick commanded, “Take it down.”
Suddenly, his body stilled and his
tiny eyes grew wide. They briefly connected with Layla’s, narrowing with
calculation. The Elder turned to his nearest black clad companion.
“Do you feel that?” Layla heard
Werrick ask.
The other man looked skeptical.
“Feel what, Elder?”
Werrick leaned in as the two
whispered, stealing furtive glances in her direction. When the Elder’s
companion pointed at Layla, Samson grabbed her arm. She heard his breathing
change from rhythmic to jagged as he pulled her away from the men.
“We have to go now.” His urgency
spurred her into action.
Grant moved to block them from the
Elder’s view. “Get her away from here, Samson.”
The Elder looked up to see everyone
staring at him as if frozen. He repeated his demand, “I said take everything
down.”
The townspeople, joined by the
Elder’s minion, scampered to remove their decorations, anxious to “properly”
celebrate the First Ones. Their flurry of activity concealed Layla as Samson
and Grant escorted her away. Layla scanned the streets, horrified, as the
people of Medlin stripped the town’s center barren. In no time, everything
appeared as it always had, devoid of any celebratory adornments. She looked up
at the sky with its gray clouds lingering overhead. A bad omen…
On the hill, a safe distance away,
Layla watched a group of Ecclesiastics erect a monstrous stage where the donkey
races should have occurred. She heard the braying of the angry animals,
harnessed and corralled on the orders of the Elder to avoid interfering with
the “true” Day of Dawning celebration. Her ire rose. Who did they think they were
coming in and changing everything?
An icy, phantom finger traced a
frigid line down her spine. After hearing warning after warning from the
Mantars her whole life, Layla knew exactly what the Ecclesiastics could do,
what they had done to others in the past. Maybe Samson and Grant had been
right. Maybe she should never have come, especially today. Layla turned her
back on the town, resolved to go home, to safety.
“Layla!” Samson’s alarmed tone
sliced into her, and she swung around toward him.
To her horror, two Vanguard soldiers
forced Samson to the ground. She knew just how much strength he possessed, yet
he couldn’t free himself. Her hands balled up into fists, shaking with their
desire to unleash the full force of their fury.
“Run!” Samson screamed before a
soldier’s fist smashed into his face.
His body stilled. Panic, coupled
with indecision, crippled her. She should run like Samson commanded, but she
couldn’t leave him lying there. To her relief, Grant ambled toward them, his
eyes full of rage.
“Run!” Grant echoed Samson’s
warning.
With a final glance at the two boys
who’d been as close to her as brothers, Layla fled. She flew down the hill,
swinging her head from side to side in alarm. Ecclesiastics swarmed throughout
the city, making a clear escape route difficult to discern.
Terror rose within Layla. Why hadn’t
she listened to her family? She’d been foolish to believe she could sneak
around under the ever-watchful eyes of the Ecclesiastics, and that hubris put
Samson and Grant in danger as well. She choked back a sob.
“Run,” she whispered.
Willing her feet to move forward,
Layla darted toward the back of the baker’s shop, hoping to take a shortcut
through the back alleyway. She swerved to miss a wooden box and stumbled, arms
flailing to right herself. Unfamiliar hands reached out to break her fall. Once
stable, Layla looked up to find Elder Werrick staring down at her. She screamed
but no sound came out of her open mouth.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he
said, a wicked smile on his face.
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