Page 8 of Restored

“I wish you would stop doing that, if the King or Tamish ever found out, I don’t even want to think about what they would do,” she grumbles, not bothering to look up.

“They aren’t going to find out. What was I to do Sky? They were skin and bones. Am I expected to heal their ailments only to have them starve to death?”

She sighs and then tenses as King Sandor enters the room. He is an average-sized man, not very tall, but manages to appear imposing. His very presence demands respect. He wears an affable mask, but I can always feel his cold, calculated demeanor underneath. He is followed by Tamish, Maddox, and a few people I don’t recognize.

A man on a stretcher is brought in behind them, moaning in pain.

“Layla, there you are.” The King approaches us, and I go rigid. “I have brought some spectators today. This is Ledger, Prince of Westray.” He points to a man with severe yet attractive features next to him. His black hair is short, a dusting of rugged facial hair lining his jaw and full mouth. His expression is unreadable as his forest-green eyes study me. “And his travel companions, Mia and Archie.” He sneers as he looks at the tall, blonde, boyishly handsome man. Archie clenches his jaw, and Mia brushes his hand with hers discreetly. She is a beautiful, dark-skinned woman with hazel eyes.

I nod, giving them a tight smile.

“Miss Sutton is one of the only healers left on our continent. She is as talented as she is beautiful.”

I despise when he does this—using my power as entertainment, showing me off like a prized possession.

“What are you waiting for? Continue—we want to see that power of yours. Work on him next.” He nods over at the man who was just brought in. “His moans are starting to grate on my nerves.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” I grind out before walking over to the man. I fight to control my face as my anger grows.

The man is writhing wildly on the bed. His shirt is tattered, and his shoulder is leaking blood. Cutting the shirt away, I can see familiar black venom running through the veins of his arm.

I give Sky a look, and she pins his arms down so I can begin. The black venom from the bite is already spreading to his fingertips. I wonder what the animal looks like that inflicts such wounds.

Heat scalds my skin, my power already threatening to erupt out of me. I hold my hands steady as they begin to glow. I brace myself as the poison starts to leave his body; it creeps into my veins, sizzling them and stealing my breath.

I clench my teeth together to ease the blinding pain. Sweat beads on my forehead. I desperately want to stop but force myself to continue. The agony is almost crippling. My back bows.

I shift my focus and recede into the recesses of my mind to drown out the pain. I think of Maddox last night. His devious smile and how his perfect teeth were stained red withwine. I think of my father and how proud he used to be when I would conjure a spark of my power.

I sag with relief when the pain subsides, and the man’s struggle stops. His moans cease and the shredded skin on his shoulder knits neatly back together.

My power snaps back with such force my knees hit the floor. I must have been holding my breath because I am now greedily gulping down air, unable to satisfy my lungs. My mouth waters, a familiar putrid taste filling it, making my stomach sour.

I reach for the closest bin and vomit the contents of my empty stomach. Maddox is next to me in the next breath, his hand finding mine and his other going to my back. “Are you okay?” he whispers, and when I look up at him, his jaw is set. His whisky eyes are focused on me, and his eyebrows are furrowed in concern.

I nod as I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

Clapping echoes off the bare, white walls. “Such a show you put on; I could watch you all day.” The King wears a face of delight. “Honestly, Layla, get up, you embarrass me. She has always been one for the dramatics.” He addresses the visitors at his side, who all stare with wide eyes and their mouths ajar.

I grit my teeth at his comment and take a deep breath through my nose. I force my wobbly legs to stand with Maddox at my back, steadying me.

My brain feels like it is thrashing around in my skull, and my vision has gone slightly blurry. I curse myself for not eating the sticky bun Hector gave me earlier. My body is desperate for fuel.

“Maddox, get over here, the girl is fine; you’re making her look weak. Should I be concerned, Layla? Does this display have anything to do with your nightly escapades?” The King lifts his eyebrows, looking at Tamish who stands on the other side of him. Maddox goes fully still beside me.

I don’t even have time to brace before Sandor is in my head. His power slithers over my skull, sinking its teeth into the flesh of my mind.

I gasp as every muscle in my body tenses. My instinct is to rage against his power but the harder I fight, the more intense his grip becomes. Razor sharp claws drag against the sensitive crevices of my memories. Maddox’s hand grips my hip bone and I can practically hear his thoughts.Stop fighting, give him something that will satisfy his intrusion.

I manage a small gasp, forcing my body to relax. I let The King’s power creep into my mind. The feel of it is so repugnant that I nearly vomit again.

I reach for a memory from last night. I think of Maddox and I lounging on the bed drinking wine, me swaying around the room, Maddox catching me and listening as I wail about my mother.

King Sandor’s scoff echoes and when I look up, he is rolling his eyes. Everyone’s stares bounce between the Kingand me. The blonde man—Archie, His nostrils are flaring as his gaze vaults from me to Ledger. Mia has a death grip on his hand.

I can feel the King’s dissatisfaction as his grip tightens on my skull. I wince, but before he can violate me again a crash makes us all jump. Sandor’s concentration breaks and relief is immediate as his power slowly reels back.

Medical supplies chime off the ground and the metal tray they are on rattles as it bounces, reverberating off the stone floor. Maddox releases the breath he must have been holding and it ruffles my hair. The King turns a shade of red as he whips around.

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