Restoration

by Randi Cooley Wilson

  “Everyone has gathered,” Rulf states, pulling his brows together at the sight of me.

  “Excellent,” Lord Falk replies, grabbing a handful of my hair, forcing me to stand.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and try not to pass out. The dizziness and pain are endless.

  “Let’s go,” he barks, dragging me out of the stone prison and into a passageway, up several flights of stairs and through a few more passages.

  “Why hasn’t she healed?” Rulf questions, his tone tinged with annoyance.

  “I had the cell spelled, a trick I learned from an old friend, Deacon,” Lord Falk states.

  While being yanked around, I notice Domus Gurgulio is not as pristine as it once was. Some of the stonework and statues in the alcoves appear damaged. There are burn marks marring the elegant rugs. I guess my light energy did some destruction during my last visit.

  Through my displacement, I recognize the smashed carved wooden doors, hanging off their hinges in front of us. I’m unceremoniously pushed through and violently thrown down the aisle, only to collapse on my bound hands and knees in front of the stage.

  Lifting my gaze, I take in the gargoyle council, looking confused at the commotion.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Jarin, an elder member, questions, staring down from his throne at my battered body.

  Now that I’m out of the charmed dungeon, a little of my strength returns, and I can begin to slowly heal from some of my minor injuries. The rest will take a healing sleep—and Asher’s help. My heart skips a beat as his face flashes through my mind.

  Knowing our bond has opened up deeper connections, I attempt to reach out to him but am immediately stopped by another vicious kick to the ribs. This time, the pain is too much, and I vomit all over the stone underneath me.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rulf flinch, but he stays put. Smart.

  Lord Falk steps onto the raised stage. “Our king has requested Miss Collins’s presence.”

  “Our king?” Jarin repeats, sounding perplexed as his focus drops to me again.

  Lord Falk’s face morphs into anger. “Help her stand,” he orders Rulf.

  My eyes lift and study Rulf’s tight features as he bends down and gently places his arms under mine, assisting me upright. His stare meets mine in a sympathetic warning before turning back to the council, where the leader has taken a seat amongst his assembly.

  “Where is her protector?” Lief, a younger male member, asks.

  Lord Falk smirks, tenting his fingers under his chin. “His Highness was detained.”

  Panic crawls through me as my memories slowly come back. I’d woken in the middle of the night, needing water. I was standing in the cottage’s kitchen. There was a quick pain on my neck, almost like a bee sting. My hand automatically goes to the spot. At the motion, the right side of Lord Falk’s lips tilt upward. The next thing I remember is waking up in the cell. My pissed-off focus flicks to Lord Falk’s knowing one.

  He inhales with pleasure, sitting back into his throne. “It would seem Mr. St. Michael’s love for you leaves him blind in matters of your protection, Miss Collins. Given the spells and dimensional lockdown, I’m sure you’re curious as to which of your invited guests assisted in your abduction,” he taunts, amused. “I understand the very private ceremony was beautiful. It is a sad day for love.” His smile is cruel before it falls. “Consider for a moment, if you will, that while you slept quietly in the afterglow of your intimate evening, the love of your life was taken from right under your nose. Imagine the panic our young prince felt when he woke up to find you gone.” He sighs as if he actually feels sadness. “What a shame that his clan wasn’t there to help. It was such a gracious gesture for them to allow you and the dark prince an evening alone, with a false sense of security in the magic dimension.”

  Feeling stronger, I stop leaning on Rulf and take a step toward the stage. “The only shame here, Lord Falk, is that I didn’t end your existence the last time we saw one another. Asher will come for me. He will burn down every realm in existence until he finds me, and when he does, I look forward to watching him tear you apart. Limb from fucking limb.”

  “You stupid girl,” Lord Falk shouts, rushing at me from his seat. He pushes Rulf away and stands in front of me, closing an angry hand around my throat, tightening his iron grip.

  My hands automatically reach for my daggers but, of course, they aren’t there. Crap. Strong fingers press cruelly against my skin, leaving bruises. My vision becomes blurred, and just as I’m about to lose consciousness, he releases me, and I fall heavily to the ground. I cough and drag air into my lungs while a council of supposed human protectors watches in shock and horror.

  “You’re pathetic. Certainly not worthy of the title of queen,” the leader seethes at me, storming back toward his throne. “Cassius, join me a moment,” he barks out.

  A sinking feeling crawls into my gut. I collect myself, stand, lift my chin, and stare into Lord Falk’s eyes in challenge. Cassius approaches the leader, and just as he bows his head in a respectful greeting, Lord Falk runs a sword through his heart in a cruel and violent manner.

  An odd gurgle comes from the young protector’s throat before he turns to stone. Within seconds, he’s gone. The chamber falls silent as terror and shock pass over each council member’s face, and my own.

  “What are you doing?” I demand, taking a step toward the throne.

  “Teaching you a lesson,” he answers in a bored manner.

  Rulf wraps his hands around my upper arms, preventing me from lashing out. Even in my weakened state, I writhe, trying to fight him off.

  “Let go of me,” I shout.

  “Easy, Eve,” Rulf soothes. “You’ll make whatever this is worse,” he whispers in my ear.

  “You can’t do that,” I cry out, pointing at the pile of dust at Lord Falk’s feet.

  “Miss Collins,” the elder gargoyle chides. “I can do whatever I want,” he continues in a sickly sweet tone. Without warning, he jumps up and is in my face, shouting at me aggressively. “Do not forget, I AM THE COUNCIL LEADER!”

  After a moment, Rulf pulls us back, allowing for a small sliver of space between us.

  Jarin stands. “Your title gives you no right to take another protector’s life, Lord Falk.”

  The council leader spins so quickly I barely register the movement. His sword finds Jarin’s chest immediately, ending the other elder’s existence. Again, my anger rises.

  “STOP!” I yell while Rulf tightens his grip on my arms.

  Lord Falk twists and catches my eyes with a wild and evil look. The disdain emanating off of him causes me to stop fighting Rulf. Realization sets in that he’s planning to end the existence of the council, regardless of my actions.

  I hold his stare. “As the future queen of this race, I order you to discontinue your efforts to dismantle this assembly. You are not within your rights to hurt these protectors.”

  Lord Falk stares down at me with an arrogant resolve, dropping his tone to a menacing level. “There is no future for you, only death. Return her to the cell until Garrick arrives.”

  Rulf tugs at my resistant body, forcing me out of the chamber and into the stone passageway. Not a difficult feat considering my current injured state. Once he’s thrown me around a few hallways, he roughly releases his hold on me, causing me to stumble a bit before my hands meet a wall. I inhale, twist, and rest my back against the cool stones.

  While both of us catch our breath, my guard runs his hands over his face and through his dark hair in frustration. I take that moment to start running. He easily catches me and yanks me against his chest, causing me to grunt in pain from my broken ribs.

  “Holy shit, would you just calm the fuck down, Eve,” he barks at me. “I’m not going to hurt you, or bring you back to the cell. So just . . . fucking relax,” he exhales.

  At his words, I stop my escape efforts, and he releases me once more.

  “Christ, you’re feisty,” he blows out on a
winded breath.

  I huff. “You would be too if you were kidnapped, beaten, and held captive for who knows how long by a council who claims they are supposed to protect humans.”

  Slate eyes roam over me. “Point taken.” He nods, with his hands on his hips. “Look,” his gaze snaps down the hallway we just came from before coming back to me, “we don’t have much time. I had no idea this was going to go down the way it did. Since Falk is offing council members one by one, without cause, I think it’s best if we get out of here.”

  I arch a brow challengingly. “No shit.”

  Rulf rolls his eyes. “If you can trust me, I will take you somewhere safe. Once we are out of harm’s way, I’ll reach out to Asher. I’m sure he’s having a shit fit.”

  I fold my arms protectively over my ribs. “Why should I trust you?”

  His eyes roam around the castle before landing on mine. “You seem to be out of options.”

  I sigh out my resolve. “Fine. But so help me, Rulf, if you touch me, the minute I get a hold of my daggers, I will cut your heart out after I stab you to death.”

  A small smile forms on his lips. “Believe it or not, those are the same words my last date used to accept my dinner invitation.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Are you joking with me? NOW!”

  He lifts a shoulder. “Thought some humor might be appreciated, given the situation.”

  “Please, just get me out of here,” I beg in a resigned tone.

  Rulf opens his arms, motioning with his eyes for me to step into them. I hold my ribs, unmoving.

  “I can teleport. However, you need to hold on to me if you want to come,” he points out.

  I stare at him for a moment. Fuck. He’s right. I am out of options. With no other choice, I have to trust him. Crap. If he crosses me—my thought is cut off by his amused voice.

  “For the record, I’m also telepathic. So . . .” he trails off.

  In my mind, I conjure up an image of myself giving him the finger. Read that, asshole.

  He rolls his neck. “Clever. Do you want to get out of here, future queen, or continue our witty banter through a telepathic conversation?”

  “Out of here.”

  “Good choice.”

  I step into his embrace, and within seconds, we’re gone.

  Chapter 15

  Silent Screams

  My eyelids flutter in a desperate attempt to fall back asleep. The effort is unsuccessful. I force myself to sit up, ignoring the twinges of pain in my ribs. The rest of my muscles and joints crack and groan in protest at my movements, while I assess my body.

  I’m still pretty badly injured, though some of the smaller wounds and bruises have healed. Sitting up, I swing my legs over the side of the soft bed and force myself into a standing position. My eyes squeeze shut as dizziness takes over. After a moment, it passes and I exhale.

  My gaze floats around the ancient stone room accented in polished, dark woods and crimson silks. A large fireplace roars, and I ignore the nip of the cold floor as I move my bare feet toward the warmth. I pace anxiously in front of the hearth, soaking in the fire’s heat.

  Where the hell am I? And where is Rulf? I sigh into the silence, frustrated and agitated. I saunter toward two large picture windows, which span the length of one of the walls. My vision travels over the green shelved slopes the castle is nestled on.

  One windowpane frames steep cliffs that drop to the sea surrounding two sides of the castle. The second glass panel highlights a narrow strip of land attached to a bluff. A gatehouse comes into view after my eyes stray to a steep path, headed straight to its doors. Various stone buildings and towers emerge across the rolling moss hills, spreading across its length.

  I silently scream into the emptiness of the room’s isolation. The cold stone walls are a reminder of my neglect and confinement. All I want is Asher. Memories of the previous day’s captivity haunt me. The images cause me to tremble in both fear and anger.

  “Yer awake.” A cheerful, Scottish female brogue fills the silence of the room.

  At the unexpected sound, my heart leaps, and I carefully spin as not to irritate my ribs, coming face-to-face with a very pretty young woman. Her long golden strands are intricately braided and pinned on the top of her head. Deep cerulean eyes twinkle warmly at me.

  My gaze falls to the tray of fruits, breads, and cheeses she’s holding. Oddly, she doesn’t move. We stand silent for a moment before my questioning glance meets hers.

  “Apologies. ’Tis just, ye’r th’ prince’s mate ’n I am not sure how tae address ye,” she says, sheepishly. “Should I bow, or call ye yer highness?”

  “No to the bowing thing.” I smile awkwardly. “You can just call me Eve.”

  “Eve ’tis then.” She dips her chin in resolve before crossing the room at a fast pace.

  I watch her place the tray on a small circular table in front of the fire and busy herself pouring amber liquid from the delicate teapot into a china cup. Every so often, her gaze slides to mine in amusement before she lifts the fragile cup and saucer, offering it to me.

  Grateful for the hot liquid, I take a sip, only to choke and swallow hard. My eyes water as I hand the cup back to her. “What the hell is that?” I ask through the burning in my throat.

  “Whiskey. I thought ye could use some,” she replies.

  “Whiskey? In a tea cup?” I question, declining her second offering with a wave.

  The petite girl simply shrugs and returns the china mug to the tray.

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you? Where am I?” I ask, finally composing myself.

  The woman’s petite form spins, and she offers her small hand for me to shake, which I do.

  “I’m Helena. Sean’s mate ’n’ Rulf's sister. ’N’ yer on th’ northeast coast o’ Scotland about three kilometers south o’ Stonehaven.”

  “Scotland?” I inquire in surprise. “You’re Rulf’s sister?”

  “Aye. Yer under da protection o’ da Scottish clan.”

  “Sean. He’s the second in command under Griffin. McKenna’s kin?”

  “Aye.” Helena takes in my confused state, worry evident in her expression.

  “I guess the supernatural world is very incestuous,” I mumble.

  She shrugs, not understanding my offhanded comment.

  “Rulf doesn’t have a Scottish brogue,” I point out.

  “Aye. He grew up wit’ our mum en da States,” she replies.

  “Where is he?”

  “He ’n’ Sean left tae retrieve yer prince.”

  “They’re getting Asher,” I confirm and exhale in relief.

  Helena nods and smiles before moving toward the bed. I watch as she pulls the sheets and blankets, putting them back in place. When they are to her liking, she turns back to me.

  “Ye are badly hurt, Eve, so Rulf left ye here tae heal. In my care,” Helena explains.

  “I see. Well, thank you for taking care of me. I appreciate it.”

  Helena’s expression falls. “It's me honor,” she replies.

  “Why did Rulf bring me here?” I inquire.

  “I think he feels guilty fur yer troubles. He was th’ one who brought ye tae Laird Falk.”

  It takes me a moment to process what she’s saying because her accent is so heavy. When I finally do, my lips part in both astonishment and annoyance before I chew the inside of my cheek.

  “Wait, are you saying Rulf was the one who kidnapped me and handed me over?”

  Helena winces at my high-pitched tone. “Aye. He meant ye no harm, Eve. ’Twas Rulf’s understanding Laird Falk just wanted tae confirm th’ mating bond. If Rulf had known what Laird Falk had planned, I assure ye me brother wouldn’t have helped.”

  My hands hide my ribs, protectively. “I didn’t even know Rulf was at the ceremony.”

  “Professor Davidson had tae leave early. Rulf took his place, escorting Lunette. Th’ sorceress had na idea about th’ kidnapping,” she adds, as if reading my mind. “Can I
ask ye a favor, I beg o’ ye nae tae tell th’ prince. He’ll murder Rulf fur sure.”

  My eyes study Helena’s pleading expression before rushing around the room. She’s right. If Asher finds out Rulf was the one who took me from him, he’ll kill him, slowly. I ponder letting Asher do it for a bit before I remind myself that Rulf did save me and brought me to McKenna’s family for safekeeping.

  I lift my gaze and am hit in the gut with guilt when I meet Helena’s pleading one. She is taking care of me. Crap. Having trouble finding my voice, I simply nod my agreement not to tell Asher about Rulf’s participation.

  “Thank ye. Yer safe ’ere, Eve,” she assures before her eyes roam over me with concern. “Yer badly bruised ’n’ battered. ‘Tis there anythin’ I can git ye tae mak’ ye more comfy?”

  I drop my gaze and take myself in. She’s right. God, I look horrid. Asher will freak if he sees me like this. “Maybe some fresh clothes?” I suggest. “And a place I can take a shower?”

  “Aye.” She smiles and bids me to follow her to a closed door on the other side of the room. She opens it to reveal a beautiful, grand bathroom. In the center is a large claw foot tub. “I can run ye a bath ’n’ while yer soaking, I will fetch some clothes. I think we are about th’ same size.”

  “Clean clothing would be amazing. Thank you, again, for your kindness,” I reply.

  Helena waves me off as if it’s nothing that she’s caring for a complete stranger and twists the tub’s knobs. She tests the water, and once the temperature is to her liking, she merrily floats around the room.

  She pulls out a jar of bath salts from under the sink and pours them into the bath. I watch as the tiny pink salts fizz and dissolve in the welcoming water. My body sags at the thought of relaxing. All my energy is drained, and I suddenly just feel very, very tired.

  Helena turns to me. “Take yer time, Eve. If ye need anythin’ just let me know. Leave yer clothes by th’ door ’n’ I will have them cleaned,” she says, closing the door behind her.