Rika huffed at him in irritation and walked over to get another bowl of the icy water. As she did so, she asked, “Why is Keenan so interested in our home?”

“Because he thinks we should be his because of the heat here?” Sionnach shrugged awkwardly, even now trying to appear uninjured but failing to look convincing. “He always thought we should have been loyal to him.”

“So, it could be a revenge thing? Break us to his will now that he’s strong. . . .” Rika shook her head. “That doesn’t work. Not for Keenan.”

Jayce set his sketch pad in his lap for a moment and reached down to pull a thicker pencil from his bag. As he turned the pages, flipping past the rough sketches of Rika—looking fierce, looking vulnerable, looking pensive—he had to remind himself to focus on the conversation. Even as he wanted to know more, he knew he could quickly forget his questions once he began drawing. He looked purposefully at them and again asked, “Why?”

Sionnach wiped the blood from his skin with the rag he hadn’t surrendered to Rika, and then pressed the cloth to his wound, wincing as he did so. “I don’t like the Summer King, so I hate to say anything kind . . . but Rika’s right: he’s not that petty.”

“Strategy.” Rika returned to Sionnach’s side with a bandage. “There’s a benefit to claiming us. If he can bring those of us who are sworn free under his thumb somehow, it increases his strength. It makes him look clever.” She scowled at Sionnach and informed him, “I’m wrapping that.”

Jayce quickly stifled his burst of laughter, but the quirk of Sionnach’s lips and the way his gaze darted to Jayce made it obvious he’d heard.

“Plus, there are fighters aplenty out here,” Sionnach said. “Maybe our little Summer King is thinking of wars to come.” He kept his hand pressed to the wound as if Rika hadn’t just informed him that she was tending the wound.

“Shy,” Rika began warningly.

“Fine.” Sionnach tossed the cloth into the washbasin. Carefully, he rolled to his side so she could wrap the bandage round him. The look on his face made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t pleased that she was forcing him to be tended. Jayce suspected that Sionnach would be less irritated if not for his presence. This was the faery who was supposed to be the strongest in the desert, and here he was being coddled in front of someone. Jayce looked studiously at his sketch pad while Rika wrapped the bandage around the injured faery. He could see her out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t look up until after she had taken a new sheet and covered Sionnach with it.