Silently, Jayce pulled a bandana from his satchel and wrapped the bloody weapon in it. His gaze darted worriedly at Sionnach, as he tucked the weapon into his satchel. Later, Rika would need to talk to Jayce about how attacks were handled in the world of solitary faeries—or hope that he didn’t ask questions she wanted to avoid answering. For now, though, she was simply grateful that he was willing to help her and that she didn’t have to touch the noxious weapon.

Rika opened Sionnach’s shirt and held it away from his stomach. The gouges in his stomach were inflamed, swollen, and angry.

Sionnach moaned as she prodded the injuries, and she tried to examine him without letting her own whimpers or cries of fury out. There would be time enough for temper later. Right now, she needed to be strong.

In his state of weakness, Sionnach’s fox-ish traits were more obvious. His features were sharper, cheeks more defined, tail obvious, and the tips of his pointed ears visible. He looked more faery than she ever would.

“Where do you go when one of you are hurt. . . . I mean . . . You can’t take him to the hospital, right?” Jayce stepped back from them, near but obviously not knowing quite what to do. “I want to help. Tell me how.”

“In the courts, there are healers. Here”—she pulled Sionnach’s shirt farther up, and she could see the slash was partially healed—“Shy will make do with my care. I need to move him.”

“Is he going to be—”

“He’ll be fine.” Rika looked up as soon as the words left her lips and offered Jayce a contrite smile to soften the harsh tone of her words. “But she won’t.”

“She?”

“There’s only one faery stupid enough to injure Shy. Maili’s going to find out how very idiotic that was.” Rika paused and glanced at Jayce, needing him to understand that she wasn’t a monster. “I’ll check first. Either Shy will wake and tell me or I’ll have someone scent the weapon.”

Jayce nodded.

Rika lifted Sionnach and cradled him in her arms as if he were a small child. His head lolled back, and the fear she was trying to ignore grew. Faeries are resilient, she reminded herself. Sionnach had stood against attacker after challenger after troublemaker in the years she’d known him. Being Alpha in the desert was not without its difficulties. The difference this time was in the treachery of the assault. Striking another faery with iron wasn’t done lightly—or forgiven easily. Either Sionnach or Rika would have to discipline the faery, make clear that such assaults could not happen in the desert, and they’d need to do so with enough force that no one else would attempt to do so again. First, though, she needed to remove the poison from Sionnach’s flesh.

He’ll heal. He has to.