Page 7

“Is everything okay?” Sky finally asks me after it takes four tries to heal the ailment of our last patient.

I’ve been painfully struggling to heal every patient today, warring against my straying thoughts.

“Why don’t you take a break? I can handle it for a while,” she offers with an encouraging smile.

“Okay,” I agree, my shoulders sagging. “I think I’ll get some fresh air.” I wash my hands, leave the infirmary, and make my way to one of the side terraces.

The sun immediately warms my skin as I sink down the heated stone wall dropping my head onto my knees and pinching the bridge of my nose.

I startle as Hecktor’s knuckles rap against the glass window, alerting me of his presence. A second later the terrace doors swing open. Hecktor waves a sweet roll in the air before tossing it to me. It’s still warm when I catch it.

“Thank you,” I call after him, hearing his responding grunt as the doors swing closed. I need to eat—to replenish my power reserves but have no appetite. My stomach is tight, churning with unease and I can’t shake the bad feeling that has rooted itself inside me.

The look in the prince of Westray’s eyes keeps flashing in my mind. It had been desperate at first but was replaced rapidly with something like determination and before he left, malice. The interaction is on repeat in my mind and makes me wish for King Sandor’s memory-altering powers.

I want to find Maddox, seek comfort in him, and tell him of the interaction but am too much of a coward to face him. If our kiss had revealed anything, it’s that I am weak, and if he tried to kiss me again, I’m not confident I wouldn’t fold entirely.

We are good together, him and I. We complement each other and know one another intimately, but until I have time to think clearly, I can’t give him the answer he deserves.

I force a few bites of the sweet roll down, the sweet, buttery flavor tasting like ash on my tongue. Brushing myself off, I inhale deeply and begin walking back to the infirmary.

The rest of the day doesn’t get better. My healing is sloppy, but I manage to fumble my way through it. It’s a grueling few hours that leaves me feeling completely inept .

Sky is gracious enough not to ask me about it again, but I don’t miss her surprised and concerned stares as she pays witness to me laboring with my abilities.

I wash the day away once back in my rooms, dress in one of my white under dresses and then attempt to distract myself with a book. Upon further inspection, I realize Maddox has ripped out multiple pages of my current novel.

Sighing, I make my way to the door. Hecktor is standing at attention, and he doesn’t move, only lifts an eyebrow. “Do you have the report from your shift in town today?” Hecktor always has a report of the townsfolk’s needs after his shifts. It is how I know who needs my powers most.

He pulls a small piece of paper out of his front pocket. “Did you eat dinner yet?” he questions, holding the paper out of reach.

“Yes,” I answer, and he nods once before handing it to me.

“Good.” He looks around to make sure we are alone. “If you decide to leave the castle grounds tonight, I’d like to escort you. You should not be without protection.” His voice is low, and he stands at attention as he speaks.

“Thanks, Hecktor.” I smile at him as I shut the door.

I pace the room as I scan the paper and my stomach sinks. This must have been the reason I’ve had a bad feeling all day. Oliver’s name is written boldly in the middle. “Seriously? Again, Oliver?” I whisper to myself .

Thea used to be friends with my mother; she had a meager garden she would share with us from time to time, which relieved the constant ache of our hunger. It was why I always looked for her, and her son’s, name and visited their cottage when they needed me.

What power I have left from the day lashes around inside of me, demanding I go. I know I don’t have much time to waste, especially if I want to avoid being caught. I debate accepting Hecktor’s offer to escort me to town, but I don’t want to put him at risk.

Throwing on my cloak and a pair of leggings to go under my dress, I move the picture off the wall.

The door to the tunnels creaks open. I uncurl my hands and look back at the report with Oliver’s name on it.

Grinding my teeth, I grab my boots knowing I won’t be able to rest tonight until I make sure he is okay.

Stumbling out of the exit, I squint up at the full moon. My head swivels around, making sure no one spotted me and once I am satisfied, I start the journey to town.

The walk feels longer tonight. My mind is racing, burning with paranoia. When I see the town lights, I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Just this one stop and I’ll go back. Quick in, quick out,” I mumble to myself, pulling my hood up and closer to my face .

I amble through the quiet, empty streets. My head swivels and my heart pounds. My palms are slick as I brush them over my pants.

Thea’s dilapidated cottage comes into focus at the end of the road, and I briskly make my way over to it. I glance towards the spot where our humble cottage used to sit, now just a heap of withered remains and forgotten memories.

Sighing, I knock softly on the decaying wood of her front door. There is scuffling inside, and I only release the breath I’m holding when Thea herself cracks the door.

“Oh, Layla, thank Gods you came, love.” She swings open the door, sweeping me into an embrace. She smells of cinnamon and apples. “Quick, please come inside.” She ushers me in. I’m met with the cozy haze of fire in the hearth.

“Oliver was caught stealing a loaf of bread yesterday. Times have been tough lately, and he just wanted to help.” Her already bloodshot eyes rim with unshed tears.

“I begged them to leave his hand. Pleaded they take my own instead. They didn’t care, barely heard me as they—” Her sentence is cut off by a heart-wrenching sob.

My stomach churns. Anger burns inside of me at the senseless act of violence for such a minuscule offense.

“Listen.” I take her hand in mine. “I’ll heal him the best I can. He’s a strong boy, he will make do. Everything is going to be alright.” I wish my father was here; he always knew the right thing to say in moments like this .

She squeezes my hand before dropping it and wiping at her eyes with a handkerchief.

“He developed a fever today. I’ve been using cold compresses and trying to get broth into his system.

He is in a lot of pain.” Her voice is distraught as she leads me back to a stuffy small room.

She touches his forehead and then rubs her thumb over his pale cheek.

Oliver’s skin is sheet white, and beads of sweat gather on his forehead. His eyes are closed, but his face is pinched with pain. He grabs at his arm and moans. He seems in and out of consciousness.

I wash my hands in the water basin next to the bed and begin to build my power. My palms itch as I pull on the dwindling energy I have to offer.

I gently pick up his wrist, unwrapping the ruddy bandage encasing it. I wince as his bloodied nub is revealed. It is a gruesome scene of blood, bones, and veins. It’s a nasty, jagged cut, as if the guards had to hack at it twice.

I clench my jaw to chase away the burning anger I feel for him. He is just a boy, and it was just a loaf of bread. The crime hardly matches the brutal punishment.

I know without my healing ability, an injury like this could be fatal. The powerless relied on their ability to work, and if he chose to stay among them, I feared he would now be fighting an uphill battle. He is spunky and strong, and I have to believe he will be okay.

I brush his curly, damp hair from his forehead, feeling the heat there. Taking a deep breath, I call on my power and channel it to my palms. The room fills with a dim glow that seeps from my hands.

I’m prepared for the sharp stings of pain that shoot up my arms as I draw out any infection. Thea watches me with bated breath in the corner until a knock rasps at her door.

“I can’t imagine who that would be at this hour. Keep working, dear, I’ll be right back.” She excuses herself and leaves the room.

I’m too focused to pay much mind to what Thea says or even the knock at the door.

My hands move confidently over Oliver’s injury, taking great care.

I imagine his howling laugh, his face full of color, his adorably shy smile.

I picture him healthy and happy. I wish I could regrow limbs, but I know my limits.

I instead regrow the flayed skin, pad it with muscle and fix the damaged nerves.

His furrowed brow soothes, and his moaning ceases. His skin, while still pale, takes on a healthier sheen.

Satisfied, I attempt to reel my power back. It continues flowing, straying from Oliver. I stagger as a violent tug comes from deep in my belly.

The light from my hands is no longer seeping into Oliver’s hand but now trailing away. Curiously, I follow the light to where it is being channeled, and my very bones go cold.

There, standing in the doorway, a pair of familiar green eyes stare back at me. I’m momentarily stunned. Ledger gives me a menacing look. His hands are raised as if channeling my abilities.

His power trails along mine latching onto my wrists. I fight against it, yanking on my own power with all the strength I can muster. He grunts but otherwise shows no sign of stopping.

My energy wanes at a rapid rate, and I’m helpless to stop it. I look around for any other weapons but unsurprisingly, find none.

A trail of warmth trickles from my nose, the droplet of blood splashing onto my boot.

It hits me all at once. My already weakened power drains too swiftly and not of my own accord. My knees hit the ground so hard it makes my teeth clang together. My head swims and my vision becomes spotty.

I grab at my head, melding into a fetal position. My brain pounds painfully against my skull and a dry sob leaves my lips. To have my power so violently stolen from me evokes a bone-deep fear.

I think I am begging the man to stop, but I can’t focus on anything else besides the agony of having my power reserves drained. I can’t even scream. My veins feel like they are on fire, a sign I am near burnout.

All at once, the pain stops. My body sags into the dingy floor as I gasp for air. I don’t even have the energy to raise my pinky finger .

The floor creaks as Ledger makes his way to me. “Sorry about that, nothing personal.” His voice is smooth, calm even, and it makes me furiously angry.

He pulls me into his arms, and I can’t seem to contract even a singular muscle to fight him. A garbled moan leaves my mouth as my head lulls. My vision blurs, darkening around the edges.

Thea sobs as we walk through the house towards the front door. “Please don’t hurt her,” she pleads with my captor.

“You speak a word of this, and we will take your son’s other hand.” A gruff voice threatens, which just makes Thea sob louder until she’s promptly cut off by the front door slamming.

“I can’t believe that worked. I wish I could stay to see the look on Sandor’s face when he wakes up and realizes she’s gone.” The words drift in and then out of my ears.

My breathing is shallow and labored as my head swings limply. Panic creeps into my consciousness, and I can’t seem to get enough oxygen into my lungs. I think of my mother, Maddox, and the townspeople. They need me. This couldn’t happen. How could I have let this happen?!

I am placed on solid ground, feeling the coolness of the cobblestones against my skin.

“Breathe, blondie. Don’t go dying on me now.” I can feel his lips brush the shell of my ear before the world goes black.