Page 3
Story: Restored
I wake abruptly the next morning to pounding on my door. I shoot out of bed, my body moving so fast on its own accord I slam into my door before yanking it open. “Yes, I’m awake,” I croak, rubbing at my sleep coated eyes.
Hecktor, my guard stands at the entrance, looking anything but amused. “We leave in ten minutes for the infirmary. The King won’t be happy if we are late.”
He gives me a disapproving look when he sees Maddox asleep in my bed. “You may want to wake the prince; he has matters to attend to this morning.”
“Good morning to you too, Hecktor,” I grumble as I shut the door. Every muscle in my body aches and my head pounds furiously as I make my way to the closet .
A few empty bottles of wine litter the floor. I groan, knowing I have a full day of healing ahead fighting through this hangover.
I pull on a white, long-sleeved undershirt, tossing a plain black dress over it. Black is my color of choice lately to hide any of the blood that will unwittingly find its way onto me.
I stumble over to Maddox and give him a good shake. “Maddox, wake up! If your father finds you in here, I’m sure he will be less than thrilled.”
He moans, pushing himself further into my bed while securing a pillow over his head.
“You have two minutes to get up before I pour a pitcher of ice-cold water on you.”
“What time is it?” he grumbles.
“A quarter to eight.”
“Oh, fuck.” He jumps out of the bed and begins searching around the room.
“Where did all your clothes go?” He stands before me in a pair of drawers. I’m momentarily stunned, his long sinewy body catching my attention.
I’ve seen him shirtless many times, but for some reason, I suddenly understand why so many ladies willingly welcome him into their beds. My eyes linger on the planes of his body for longer than appropriate.
He finds his pants, pulling them on quickly, catching my stare. “What? You know I get hot when I sleep. ”
I nod stupidly, looking away hoping he doesn’t notice the red staining my cheeks. I see his shirt lying on the floor and toss it to him.
“Thanks.”
“Where are you in such a hurry to?” I run a brush through my long, tangled blonde hair.
When I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I cringe.
Heavy bags line my bloodshot, light blue eyes.
Eyes I’ve always thought were too big for my face.
My cheekbones have a gaunt appearance, a stark reminder of how poorly I’d been taking care of myself lately.
My tongue darts out to wet my dry, heart-shaped lips.
They are wine-stained, and I rub the back of my hand over them to try and rid them of evidence.
“I am to welcome some visitors from Westray to the castle.” He grabs the brush from my hands and runs it through his tousled locks. I lick my fingers and flatten them over a few stray pieces of hair sticking up; he grins down at me.
“Westray? That’s quite a distance to travel. What business do they have here?” We both pull on our boots.
“I believe they are just passing through. Calum, the King of Westray used to be close with my father.” He finishes tying his laces and stands. His brows pinch together and he rubs at his temples. “Gods, I feel awful; I blame you.”
“How is it my fault?! You brought the wine!”
“If you weren’t so hell-bent on proving ‘just how fun you could be’ maybe we wouldn’t have gone through three bottles!” He gives me a once over, pulling down the side of my dress and attempting to smooth some wrinkles.
I swat him away. “I don’t have time to argue with you; Hecktor will have my head.
And for the record, I was the embodiment of fun last night.
” I open my door, stepping out to meet Hecktor.
The three of us walk down the hallways and I rub my arms to wear off the cold that seeps through all the old stones lining the walls.
They vary in shapes and sizes, each one a drab grey.
“Oh yeah, was that before or after you passed out drooling and snoring?” His lips tip up in that crooked smile eliciting a grin from me.
I bump him with my shoulder. “I don’t snore, and you know it.” Our footsteps echo in the empty corridor.
“Dinner tonight after you’re done in the infirmary?” Maddox asks as he buttons his shirt. We pass a window, and I get a glimpse of the dead tree that Maddox and I used to climb when we were little.
“I have to visit my mother tonight, but maybe after.” I grimace at the sudden onslaught of emotion that assaults me at the mention of her.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Maddox notices my sudden change and his hand comes up to brush the small of my back.
“I think it’s better if you don’t; she’s been getting worse. She barely recognizes me these days.” I frown remembering our last interaction .
“You think she would recognize me? It would be very difficult to forget a face as perfect as mine.” My lip lifts in a halfhearted smile at his attempt to pull me out of my thoughts. “Really though, Lay, if you need me, I’m there.”
“I know, thanks. I’ll see you later, okay?”
“See ya, good luck today!” He gives my side a squeeze before going in the opposite direction.
“Are you quite ready?” Hecktor looks impatient as he turns to me, approaching the entrance.
“As I’ll ever be.” I try to ignore the way my head pounds and my stomach churns unpleasantly.
“Can’t you use some of those healing abilities on yourself?” he grumbles, taking in my appearance.
“You know it doesn’t work that way, and anyway, I feel great.” I feign a big smile hoping to appease him, and he looks away shaking his head.
We arrive at the healing wing of the castle, and he turns to me, handing me a small sticky bun before leaving me with a nod. He may appear grumpy and impatient, but he’d been my guard for many years, and we had a mutual bond.
“Thanks, Hecktor,” I call after him before entering.
The healing wing is already full, and I squint against the sun gleaming off the white floors and sterile walls. I rush over to the beds in front; they tend to have the more life-threatening cases and patients who need more urgent care .
One of the new castle guards is on the first cot. Sky, my assistant, is already cleaning the wounds on his back and she gives me a tense look when she sees me.
Looking at the sticky bun, I sigh, my appetite instantly gone, and toss it into the bin. I cleanse my hands as my power awakens, itching my skin.
My stomach flips uneasily as I approach, already knowing what I am going to find. Deep gashes line his back, red and angry. It pains me just to look at them. The guard is dirty, his shoulders slumped and head down.
I kneel in front of him, noting the way his body twitches and spasms and recalling all the times I’ve suffered similarly. “I’m Layla,” I introduce myself, and he tilts his head enough to glance at me.
“I know who you are,” he responds gruffly narrowing his eyes.
“Alright,” I start lamely, struggling for words. “You look like you’re in pain. If it’s okay, I’m going to relieve some of it for you.”
He grunts in response, and I stand awkwardly, positioning myself behind him. “You may feel some heat as I work; it’s helpful if you stay still,” I explain, and he nods.
I hover my hands over the lacerations, watching as the muscles and skin carefully knit back together. His body responds, visibly relaxing, and his breathing becomes less labored. “Better? ”
He nods again, and I notice his clenched fists as he tries to conceal the tremors. “Tamish?”
His eyes snap to mine when I ask the question.
“I just wanted to see my family and make sure they were doing alright. Tell them I am—was, okay.” He clenches his jaw before continuing, “The King keeps us locked away to use us as he pleases. Told me my family was nothing but a distraction, to forget them.” He huffs a humorless laugh, and Sky glances around nervously.
“May I see your hand?” I ask, at a loss on how to respond to him. He curls his lip at me before shoving his hand in my direction. I take it, pushing some of my powers into him, working to relieve the damage Tamish caused.
“Must be nice being favored by the King. I’ve heard he keeps your mother here, right in the castle.” My body stiffens at his words, and I abruptly stand. “The rare healer gets special privileges. I bet you spread your legs for him, too.”
My face burns at his words and I haven’t a clue what to say. “You do not get to speak to me like that. Leave.” I point to the doors as I say the word.
He shoves off the bed, brushing past a wide-eyed Sky. She pushes her thick rimmed glasses up her nose and nervously tucks a piece of short auburn hair behind her ear. Her mouth opens but I hold my hand up.
“It’s fine.” I stop her before she can say anything. “Patients are waiting.” My shoulders rise with a deep inhale as I close my eyes to collect myself. I exhale my exasperation and slip on a mask of professionalism, knowing what is expected of me.
Once I am back in control, I move to the next bed, and my heart clenches. The next patient is a small girl with a horrific cough. She’s with her mother, both in clothes covered in holes and emanating a stench I’d only smelled in the slums. They have protruding collar bones and gaunt cheeks.
The woman looks desperate, and I’m not sure how she’s managed to scrape together the amount of money the King demands to see me.
I am sure they didn’t have coin to spare and probably had to choose between food and health. I fist my palm as anger licks up my spine. No one should have to make that choice. My cheeks heat as I tamp down on my anger, guilt replacing my rage.
My father would have been so disappointed if he knew how I let the King exploit my sacred power. A power he died for. I swallow the lump in my throat as I approach the little girl and force a smile on my face. “What’s your name?”
“Amelia.”
“Hello, Amelia. I’m Layla. Would it be okay if I touched you right here?” I point to her chest, where I can already hear her lungs rattling.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3 (Reading here)
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43