Page 103 of Outcast Fae
When we got there, Arryn—an orphan, ten-year-old fae girl I loved like a sister who’d been stuck here with me when our attempt to flee went horribly wrong a few weeks ago— handed her compartmentalized tray to the server.
The little fae sighed in disappointment. “It’s the same again.”
I nodded, without looking in her direction. “Yes,melthelel.”
As my gaze continued to scan our surroundings for possible threats, Sinasre entered the dining hall. He scanned the room the same as me. His orange jumpsuit nearly matched his hair color. It wasn’t a flattering look. As soon as he spotted me, his expression grew tight and full of meaning, which made me realize he’d been looking for me. It appeared he had something to tell me.
My heart sped up? Did he have news? An escape plan? It was all I thought about, a way to get out of here. I tried to figure out how I could approach him since males and females had separate tables and weren’t supposed to talk to each other.
“Ow!” Arryn exclaimed.
My head whipped around to see what was wrong. A young man dressed in blue, one of the shifters, was standing next to her, a hand gripping her skinny arm. He leaned forward and hissed something in her ear, then snatched the bread roll from her tray.
“Hey!” I snapped. “Give it back.”
“Give what back?” He pulled a face and looked me up and down as if I’d gone crazy. He began walking away.
“I said give it back, youasshole.” I had learned to curse in English since it was much more effective here.
“Keep the line moving,” the server/guard called from behind the heated food pans.
I ignored him, even if he was one of the guards and was allowed to use force to break up fights. They might put me in solitary for this, but the thing was… I couldn’t allow the inmates to bully Arryn. They had to know that if they messed with her, they had to contend with me, a very angry, very determinedfae bitch.
“I won’t repeat myself,” I snarled, gripping my tray in one hand and giving myself enough room to swing, if it came to it. “You give her food back or I’ll split your head open. I promise.”
The shifter snarled back, crouching slightly. He showed no intention of doing what I’d asked and looked ridiculous in his ready stance with a tray of food in front of him. He couldn’t shift since the prison had found a way to block that power, but he could still fight me, tall and broad as he was.
“It’s fine, Tally,” Arryn said in her small voice. “I don’t even like the rolls.”
It was a lie, of course. I always gave her my roll because she loved them so much. She needed all the calories she could get. She was waif-thin, never fully recovered from The Bane’s toxic attack on our land. No one would be stealing her food if I could help it.
The shifter huffed and gave us a look that seemed to sayyou two are pathetic. Well, he had another thing coming. This fae kept her word.
“Dammit, no fighting,” the server called as he set down his ladle and began removing the apron he wore over his front. He gestured toward the guards that stood in the periphery of the dining hall.
Acting before they reached us, I swung my tray upward and hit the bottom of the shifter’s own. His food jumped up, gravy and mashed potatoes flying into the air and landing on his face. He cursed, hands wiping at his eyes as he tried to clean the sloppy mess.
Taking advantage of his disorientation, I grabbed my tray with both hands and slammed its edge against the shifter’s head. He stumbled sideways, slipped in a puddle of gravy, and fell face first.
A group of blue-clad shifters rose from a nearby table and headed menacingly in my direction. Each type of Supernatural stuck together to defend their own. Too bad there were only three of us fae, one of them a helpless child.
My wings whirred behind me as I crouched, tray in hand. I could fly up and stay out of their reach, but I had to teach them a lesson. No one messed with us. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Sinasre rushing toward me. Back in Faerie, my cousin had always had my back and I always had his. Here, it wasn’t any different.
Another shifter with shoulders as wide as a door pushed everyone aside.
The guards had almost reached us, but as more inmates stood and gathered to watch the fight, getting in the way, it seemed I would have enough time to split someone else’s head open.
This next opponent was large and heavy, his movements sluggish compared to mine. When he lunged, I jumped out of his path and brought the tray down on his head as he flew by. There was a horrible crack as the tray split in two, and the man thudded to the floor.
Holding two pieces of my cracked tray, I growled and dared someone else to come forward. No one did. It seemed, without their shifting powers, they were all talk and no action.
Sinasre pulled a few spectators out of the way until he reached the center of the circle where I stood, two inmates at my feet. He gave me a nod of approval. I was nodding back when someone tackled me from the side.
I crashed to the floor, crushing one of my wings against a bench leg. Pain shot down its sensitive nerve endings. I arched my back, hissing through clenched teeth.
The shifter reared up, a fist drawn back. He had a shaved head and a tattoo below his left eye. I barely registered more than that before he delivered a hook to the left side of my face, sending an explosion of white light across my vision.
Another punch, this time on my right side. Blood filled my mouth.
