Page 7 of Restored

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 andslip 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.

She nods hesitantly after looking at her mother, and I gently press my palm to her small chest. I try to ignore the way my fingers brush her protruding collarbones.

She lets out a few barking coughs that leave her breathless. “Okay, I’m going to begin. This won’t hurt. You’ll feel my palm get hot; my hand will start to glow a bit. She nods just as my power dives inside of her. I can almost see it wrapping around her little lungs.

I picture her running, jumping, playing, laughing. Being a healthy child. I picture myself at that age and how I used to chase my father through the fields behind our worn-down cottage. He would turn with open arms, and I’d jump into them before he’d spin us around and around.

I rein in my power, looking to her mother. “Her lungs are clear; she should be without ailment now.” She takes her child’s face in her hands and scans her. “There is one more thing. I saw something in your ear.” I make a show of looking in her ear before pulling a silver from behind it.

“Wherever did that come from?!” A smile spreads across the girl’s face as I feign shock. “I suppose because it was behind your ear it is yours.” Her and her mother’s eyes widen as I hand it to her. “I’m so happy you came to see me today. I will forever talk about the girl with the silver in her ear.”

She clutches the coin, reaching up and touching her ear before smiling over at her mother.

“Thank you,” the mother says, the worry behind her eyes easing a touch.

“Glad I could help.” I make my way over to Sky, who is cleaning some empty beds.

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