“Well now, Ms. Chase,” she said, cementing my hunch. “It has been a while. Last I saw you, you were hiding in my office after that cruel trick that boy played on you in the cafeteria.”
I winced at the memory. That had been the most embarrassing day of my life, and I didn’t want to think about it. “What are you doing here?” I asked, amazed. The nurse snorted and shoved her glasses back atop her nose.
“Your father, Lord Oberon, bade me keep an eye on you with Mr. Goodfellow,” she replied, looking up at me primly. “If you were hurt, I was supposed to heal you. If you saw anything strange, I was to help you forget. I provided Goodfellow with the necessary herbs and potions he needed to keep you from seeing us.” She sighed. “But then, you went traipsing off to the Nevernever to find your brother, and everything unraveled. Fortunately, Oberon allowed me to keep my job as school nurse, in case you ever came back.”
I felt a small prick of anger that this woman had blinded me for so long, but I couldn’t think about that now. “We need your help,” I said, turning so she could see Puck and Ash coming toward the porch. “My friend has been stabbed, but not only that, he’s iron-sick and getting weaker. Please, can you help him?”
“Iron-sick? Oh dear.” The gnome peered past me, staring at the two fey boys in the yard, and her eyes got wide behind her glasses. “That…is that…Prince Ash?” she gasped, as the blood drained from her face. “Mab’s son? You expect me to help a prince of Winter? Have you gone mad? I…no!” She backed through the door, shaking her head. “No, absolutely not!”
The door started to slam, but I stuck my foot in the frame, wincing as it banged my knee. “Please,” I begged, shouldering my way through the gap. The nurse glared at me, pursing her lips, as I crowded through the frame. “Please, he could be dying, and we have nowhere else to go.”
“I don’t make a habit of aiding the Unseelie, Ms. Chase.” The nurse sniffed and struggled to close the door, but I wasn’t budging. “Let his own take care of him. I’m sure the Winter Court has its share of healers.”
“We don’t have time!” Anger flared. Ash was getting weaker. He could be dying, and with every second, the scepter got farther away. I bashed my shoulder into the door, and it flew open. The nurse stumbled back, hand going to her chest, as I stepped into the room. “I’m sorry,” I told her in my best firm voice, “but I’m not giving you a choice. You will help Ash, or things will get very unpleasant in a very short time.”
“I won’t be bullied by a half-human brat!”
I straightened and towered over her, my head just touching the ceiling. “Oberon is my father, you said so yourself. Consider this an order from your princess.” When she scowled, her eyes nearly sinking into the creases of her face, I crossed my arms and glared imperiously. “Or, should I inform my father that you refused to help me? That I came to you for aid, and you turned me away? I don’t think he’d be too pleased about that.”
“All right, all right!” She raised her hands. “I’ll get no peace otherwise, I see that now. Bring in the Winter prince. But your father will hear of this, young lady.” She turned and shook a finger at me. “He will hear of this, and then we will see who will be the target of his ire.”
I felt a small pang of guilt that I had to pull the daddy card like some spoiled rich kid, but it faded as Puck dragged Ash up the stairs. The prince seemed more wraith than flesh now, his skin a sickly gray except for the angry red wounds on his face and arms, where the skin seemed to be peeling off the bones. I shuddered and my heart twisted with worry.
“Put him in here,” the nurse ordered, directing Puck to a small side room with a lowlying bed. Puck complied, laying Ash down on the sheets before collapsing into a chair that looked like an enormous mushroom.
The nurse sniffed. “I see the princess has you in on this, too, Robin.”
“Don’t look at me.” Puck smirked and wiped a hand across his face. “I did my best to kill the guy, but when the princess wants something, there’s no changing her mind.”
I scowled at him. He shrugged and offered a helpless grin, and I turned back to Ash.
“Ugh, he doesn’t just smell of iron, he reeks of it,” the nurse muttered, examining the wounds on his face and arms. “These burns aren’t normal—they’ve erupted from the inside out. It’s almost like he had something metal inside him.”
“He did,” I said quietly, and the nurse shuddered, wiping her hands. She pulled up Ash’s shirt, revealing a layer of gauze that was just beginning to seep blood onto the mattress. “At least the bandaging was done properly,” she mused. “Very nice, clean work. Your handiwork, I presume, Goodfellow?”
“Which one?”
“The bandage, Robin.”
“Yeah, that was mine, too.”
The nurse sighed, bending over Ash, studying the cuts on his face, peeling away the gauze to see the stab wound. Her brow furrowed. “So, let me get this straight,” she continued, looking at Puck. “You stabbed Ash, prince of the Winter Court.”