Page 52 of Restored

A short, stout, serious-looking man dressed in a royal red approaches us. “Your Highness, it’s good to see you. I hope your travels were uneventful. I see you were successful.” He nods in my direction. My stomach flips nervously.

“It’s nice to see you, Humphrey. This is Layla; she has agreed to assist us. How is he?” Ledger asks.

“Layla.” He says my name but hardly spares me a glance and doesn’t wait for a reply. “I regret to inform you that I believe his condition has worsened since you’ve last seen him.”

“Let us not waste any more time then.” Ledger’s hand comes to my back as he ushers me forward. My feet don’t automatically work; my thoughts are racing as I stare blankly up at Ledger.

Mia steps up next to us and smiles encouragingly. “Come on.”

Humphrey leads the way, and I reluctantly follow. Ledger keeps his eyes ahead as we walk. I’m momentarily stunned by the sheer eloquence of the castle. The ceilings are tall and grand, every stone even and square, as if the builders were determined for perfection.

Our footsteps echo and I imagine the castle during the day resounding with laughter and chatter. Despite its size and pristine appearance, it still manages to give off a welcoming, homey feel.

We stop in front of two grand doors with intimidating guards stationed outside of them. They nod at us and pull the gaudy gold handles.

The room is dimly lit and equipped with beautiful, lavish furnishings. I hardly notice as I zero in on the man lying on the lush bed in the middle of the room. No, not the man,the Kingof Westray.

I balk, flooded with my own naivety, drowning in the questions I should have asked. I clench my damp palms, letting my nails dig into the skin. My breaths come in short pants that send a mixture of dull and sharp aches throughout my chest.

While everyone else enters the room, I find myself shrinking back. Ledger’s hand moves from my back to my clenched hand. He gently opens it, intertwining our fingers.

“Layla.” My eyes snap to his, and I’m ambushed by the desperation that lines his features. “Please.” It’s a strangled plea I’m powerless not to answer.

I take another shaky breath, staring at our clasped hands before taking a step forward.

We get close enough that I can make out the hollow cheeks and pale, sallow complexion of Ledger’s father. The resemblance to Ledger is almost startling, and I can imagine a time when he was handsome, full of life.

He lies motionless save for the shallow breaths that move his chest up and down. His sickly appearance is familiarto me, his once strong body frail from malnutrition and inactivity.

I reach for my power when it doesn’t automatically rise to the surface. Everyone’s eyes are on me, hopeful as they wait. The room feels stifling, my own body an inferno, pressure building in my chest.

I force myself closer to the sick man and raise a trembling hand to run over his forehead and down his face. I close my eyes to block out my erratic emotions. Ledger squeezes my shoulder softly, reassuringly.

I grasp at my power, willing it into my palms. When it doesn’t answer me, my eyes snap open. I look vacantly at my quivering hands, not a glow to be seen. I try again to find any spark of power but only feel a cold sweat break out on the back of my neck.

I am that five-year-old girl again, blood covering my hands as I fruitlessly call upon my power.

The wails and pleas of my mother fill my ears. A vice grip squeezes my throat and chest until I feel like the one dying. I’m failing. Another life will be lost because of me, another tally mark added to my tainted soul.

“No, no, no, no, no.” I don’t realize it’s me chanting this as I stare down at my ‘bloody’ hands. I’m losing my fight for breath, choking on my panic, the helplessness. My palms push at my ears trying to block out my mother’s screams.

“Everyone out.” The demand is hazy in the back of my mind.

“Layla, look at me.” I’m frozen, I want to run, I want to scream, but my body doesn’t answer me.

“Layla.” Ledger’s face comes into view, his warm hands encircling my face. “You need to breathe.” He grabs my hand and places it on his chest. “Feel that? Feel the rhythm. In and out, okay?” I yank my hand away from his and grasp at the bandages on my ribs, needing them off.

Ledger notices and lifts my shirt, seizing the bandage and ripping it in half. It falls limply to the ground, and I gulp in air, letting the pain from my rib ground me.

“That’s it.” He brings my hand back to his chest, “In and out. You’re going to be all right. Keep your eyes on me.” I lock onto his forest-green eyes like they are my lifeline. My grip tightens on his chest, and his hand comes to wrap around mine.

It’s a few painstaking minutes before my breathing slows to match Ledgers, and the dizziness vacates my head. I allow myself to rest my forehead on his for a moment.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he chants, his thumb stroking my cheek. This moment, his actions, and the words he speaks feel so tender.

I pull away when I feel in control again, collecting myself.

“We don’t have to do this tonight. I pushed it on you too soon. We can come back tomorrow.”

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