Now wearing a cleaner dress, with her hair combed courtesy of Griselda, Jacquelyn stood by the door watching Iva and the little girl. If she didn't know better, she would have passed them off as mother and child. It was difficult to get the girl to talk, but when Iva was with her, she would smile brightly and hold her without letting go. It was the innocence children came with; who could have imagined that Iva would be protecting her enemy's child?
"Iva," Jacquelyn knocked on the door, waving at the little girl. "Don't you think you need to wash up so we can all have breakfast together? I'm sure the little one is famished right now, and she could use a warm bath."
Iva wiped her hands on her trousers. "That's true," she muttered, looking at the girl. Iva cleared her throat, "Layla, you can wash yourself, right?"
The little girl sat up on the bed and shook her head slowly. "No," was her soft response.
