8
Layla
What the hell was that fae doing here? I didn’t need a dagger, but I wanted to look fierce to him without resorting to my magic. The fewer people who knew what I could do, the better.
Still, how had he escaped? How had he found me? And why?
“You’re the woman who came to my cell and asked about the medallion,” the fae said, his voice deep. He looked like a homeless man I had seen before in the human world—with his brown hair like a nest of snakes on his back, dirt on his face and hands, and his clothes in rags and grimy. Even his boots were covered in mud. “Why did you leave me there?”
I shrugged. “You didn’t have what I wanted.”
“And that’s reason enough to leave an innocent to be devoured by those monsters?”
“I don’t know you, so I don’t really care what happens to you.”
H
