She nods, silent.

"So, why in the name of all thats sacred do you want me to heal him? Not that I wont," she added, holding up her hand, "but whats to stop him from attacking you again? Or me, for that matter?"

"He was being controlled." She mutters, "Its not his fault."

"Are you planning to use him as a hostage, is that it?"

She frowned, looking at the healer. "What? Of course not."

The nurse sighed, standing up. "Your friend is very lucky," she continued, crossing the room to take a porcelain jar off the shelf. "I dont know how he didnt die, but he is strong, to survive as long as he did. He mustve been in terrible pain." She returned to his side, shaking her head as she knelt beside him. "I can heal his surface wounds, but I dont know what I can do about the iron sickness. He must recover from that himself. It is better if he returns to Tir Na Nog after this. His body will throw off the sickness faster in his own land."

She nods, staring at the ground.

"Thats not really an option," Puck ventured. The nurse snorted.

"Then Im afraid he will be quite weak for a long, long time." She straightened and turned around, staring at them with her hands on her hips. "Now I need to work. Both of you, out. If youre tired, use the extra bed in the adjoining room, but dont disturb my other patient. The prince will be fine, but I cant be tripping over you every few seconds. Go on, now. Get." Making shooing motions with her hands, she chased them from the room and slammed the door behind them.

"Quite demanding." She mutters after being chased out of the room.

Finally, many hours later, the door creaked open and the nurse stepped out, bloodstained and weary-eyed, her hair in disarray.

"Hes fine. Like I said before, hes still weak from the iron-sickness, but hes no longer in any danger. Though I must say--" and she glared at Claire fiercely, "--the boy almost snapped my wrist when I tried sewing his wounds shut. Wretched Unseelie, the only thing they know is violence."