Page 3 of Restored

“Your father killed Mr. Buford tonight. He drove a sword right through his throat.” My eyes burn as I open them to look into Maddox’s round whisky-colored ones. “I just stood there.”

“Did my father see you?” His brow furrows and a trace of fear flickers over his face.

“No.” He visibly relaxes at my answer.

“Thank the Gods. I don’t even want to think of what Tamish and my father would do if they caught you again. I wish you would stop. Why must youinsiston leaving the castle?”

“Youknowwhy,” I sigh. “The King could cut off all my fingers and toes, and I’d still find a way out of this room. The people of Bellehaven need me.”

“One of the boys I worked on tonight had a broken arm with such a bad infection if I had not come, he would have been dead by the week’s end.” The slums tended to be a place where infection spread fast and viciously.

“You work all day, every day using your power until near burnout, and still, somehow it’s not enough for you.” He puts his arm around me and helps me to stand.

Maddox sighs, curling and uncurling his fist. “I know I’ve told you this before, but you can’t save everyone.” His hand finds my chin and tilts my face, so that I’m looking into his warm eyes again. “I love your heart and support you, but if you get caught, I can’t watch Tamish torture youagain. I was almost driven mad with how badly I wanted to kill him and my father for that matter.”

Fear skates up my spine fast and acute as I remember my latest punishment. “You and I both.” I lay my head against his strong shoulder and breathe him in, instantly relaxing.

For the first time my racing mind finally slows. I have to stay focused on all the people that I can save, not the ones that I can’t. I tuck the memory of Mr. Buford away and turn it into resolve remembering his last words.“The Gods giftedmethis power and it isminealone.”

“Lay.” Maddox pushes again, clearly not wanting to drop it yet.

“I’ll be more careful, alright? No one wants your father’s attention off them more than me.” I tell him what he needs to hear and then attempt to change the subject before the events of the day drag me under. “Now, please tell me you brought food or alcohol?” I am utterly drained and desperately in need of one or both of the latter.

“I wouldn’t show up to your room empty-handed.” He turns and I right myself as he crosses the room, pulling out a bottle of wine and some chocolate croissants from his bag.

He holds them up and his full lips tip up in a crooked heart-stopping smile. He’s always been objectively attractive with a strong jawline and shaggy brown hair that curls when it gets too long. He has carved-out cheeks, and a body that makes many women forgive him after he fails to contact them for weeks at a time.

“Gods above, I love you,” I exclaim, as he pops the wine cork and pours us two glasses.

“I know; I’m the perfect man. The Gods gift to women, really,” he jokes, and I roll my eyes as I snatch a croissant from his hand.

“There you go, ruining it with your mouth again.” I take a bite and swallow a moan when the buttery, chocolate flavor coasts over my tastebuds. “Aren’t you going to hand me my wine?”

“You were supposed to meet me for training this morning and never showed. That means you make it up to me tonight, and after, you can have a glass of wine.”

I wince remembering how I slept in this morning.

“If you want to sneak out of the castle, especially without Hecktor or me, then you need to know how to defend yourself. Now finish your croissant, you’re not getting out of it tonight.” He points a gleaming dagger at the pastry in my hand.

“Keep the wine, I don’t want it anyway.” I collapse back onto my bed.

“Layla,” he growls, “you’ve got to take this seriously. I don’t know what I would do if anything ever happened to you.”

“Fine.” I shove the remaining croissant piece in my mouth and stand. “Please show me your ways.”

“That’s the attitude,” he declares, and I swallow as he fastens his dagger to his hip. “Okay, first lesson. You needto be able to disarm someone. See if you can take my dagger from its sheath.”

“Why can’t I have my own dagger?”

“Because I am rather attached to all my appendages.”

“Very funny.” I peer down at where his dagger sits and attempt to grab the handle. Maddox slaps my hand away. “Hey, that hurt!” I cradle the back of my hand.

“You weren’t fast enough and your eyes gave you away. Try again.”

I keep my eyes on his, only glancing at the handle before trying to swipe it from where it sticks out.

He swats me away. “Stop looking at the dagger, Lay.”

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