Faye's POV
"How is she?"
"Like I said," I whispered, the metallic taste still coating my tongue, "I'm perfectly fine." My eyes drifted to the maid's lifeless form sprawled across the floor. "We need to figure out who sent her. She made me believe you wanted me killed."
Hardy remained silent. He wouldn't even look at me.
Instead, he focused on the physician crouched beside me, an older man with silver hair and a weathered medical bag. His experienced eyes moved between my face and the blood-soaked stone beneath us. His hands examined my arm and ribs with practiced precision, searching for injuries that simply weren't there.
