Page 65 of Restored

“I’m sure.” I nod at him. The metal rasps as he unsheathes it and hands it to me.

He lurches towards me as I grasp the razor-sharp edge in my closed palm and pull, slicing into my skin. Blood drips onto the floor as I approach the King.

“Layla.” Ledger steps closer to me, and I hand him back his dagger.

Everyone watches as I step to the King’s bedside, extending my fist. My blood leaves a trail as I bring the flow to his mouth.

My hands shake as the liquid trickles down, coating his tongue in a deep red. My head swims when he swallows. The tang of copper stings my nostrils.

I pull back my hand and Ledger is there, wrapping it in a cloth and holding it to his chest. We all stare at the motionless King, none of us breathing.

Minutes pass and nothing happens. My stomach drops, a sickening dread filling my chest. My heart aches for Ledger as he squeezes my hand gently. I swallow the knot in my throat, the bitter taste of defeat enough to make me gag.

I turn away, letting my head fall onto Ledger’s chest. His hand rubs my back, and I cling to him. We stay like that for a long moment, the silence between us deafening.

“We will keep trying,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “You guys should get some rest.”

I pull back as Mia steps up, enveloping him in her arms. “We are going to figure it out—we always do.”

Archie claps him on the shoulder. “I can stay with you if you want?”

“I need to be alone with him, Arch,” he responds, and I feel the failure all the way to my toes.

“There is still time,” Cam whispers as he follows Mia and Archie out.

I stand awkwardly next to him, wanting to offer comfort but not sure how.

“Go. Rest, Layla,” he demands, and I can feel his need to be alone with his dying father.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper before walking out of the room.

Once I am backin my room, I take a long bath, dumping various amounts of the fancy salts and oils that line the counters. I scrub the evidence of the day away ignoring the throbbing of my open cuts.

My hand leisurely drips blood into the clear water, rippling ruby at the surface before dispersing. I watch, mesmerized. My father’s last words replay in my mind almost like a taunt. “Your blood, Layla, it is in your very blood.”

What did it mean? And if it was true then why hadn’t it worked?

When the water cools, I ease myself out of the stone tub. Wandering over to the vanity, I find some pristine white swatches of cloth I use to wrap the twin gashes tightly.

I find a lavender nightgown hanging in the closet and throw it on. Failure and defeat are eating me alive as I lay inbed. I fist my hands in the sheets, hissing at the sting, and wanting to check on Ledger.

He risked so much by bringing me here and it would all be for nothing if I was unsuccessful. Sighing, I get up and open the book I’d retrieved from the library. I translate the ancient language, word by word. It reads exactly as Ledger had said.

Maybe I wasn’t one of the chosen few with power infused within my blood. My hand throbs as I look at the crimson soaking through the white cloth.

I jump as Ledger busts through my door. His eyes are wild, and his breathing labored. “You have to come—now.”

I spring up and go to him, my stomach lurching into my throat. He grabs my hand and pulls me through the hallways. I jog to keep up with his long strides.

“What is it? Is your father okay?” My heart wallops against my chest. When he doesn’t answer, I squeeze his hand anxiously. “Ledger,” I say his name, but he doesn’t stop or answer me until we are bounding through the open doors of his father’s room.

Ledger is tense as we stand at the foot of the bed, the muscles in his body taut. “Look,” he breathes, and I turn my attention to the King.

His sickly complexion is no longer a pale yellow but a rich golden that matches Ledgers. His sunken cheeks are full and have a dusty rose hue.

The hair atop his head isn’t dull and dry, but a lush, shiny black. His once frail body, while still underweight, is now more of an athletic build.

He appears handsome and healthy and as if he is resting. His breathing is steady, and when I touch the pulse at his wrist, his heart is beating strong and sure.

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