Perhaps Adam was right.
Perhaps she’d taken on something that was beyond her skills.
But there was no time to take him to the convent.He’d already lost a lot of blood.And at the very least, if she had to give him last rites, she was qualified to do it.
It would mean revealing the truth to Adam, that she had the authority to deliver last rites.But when it meant saving a man’s soul, it was worth the price.
Fortunately, Adam had seen wounds like this before.When you lived in a clan full of warriors, someone was always getting wounded.
He hunkered down beside Simon to examine the injury.
“’Tisn’t too deep,” he said, blinking the ash from his eyes.“It looks like it missed his heart.If we can stop the bleeding…”
“I have linen for bandages,” Eve said, opening her satchel.
A dagger puncture would require more than just a bandage.The cut would need to be stitched closed first.
“Do ye have a needle and thread?”he asked.
“Aye.”
“And Fonia, do ye have…”
The poor woman was clutching her husband’s hand, trying to massage it back to life.
“Och, Simon,” she wailed.“Don’t leave me.”
Fonia was too upset to be of much help.But Eve was steady as a rock.
“Ye’ll need verjuice and honey as well,” she said, finding them in her satchel.
“Good.I’m goin’ to pull out the dagger,” he told her.“But we’ll need somethin’ to stop the bleedin’.”
“Use this,” she said, pulling out the blue brocade gown she’d worn as Lady Hilda.“’Tis thick and sturdy.”
“Are ye certain?”That gown must have cost a fortune.
“Aye.Savin’ a life is its best use.”
Pride swelled his chest.Eve might be small and plain and invisible to most.But to Adam, she was a heroine.Strong.Beautiful.Brave.Magnificent.
While Eve bunched the fabric into a compress, she told Fonia, “Ye need to pray for him now.Harder than ye’ve e’er prayed.Ask God to save him.”
Fonia obliged, letting go of Simon, closing her eyes, and clasping her hands in fervent prayer.
Whether Eve believed prayer would work or if it was only a way to keep Fonia calm and distracted, Adam wasn’t sure.But it was a wise suggestion.
“When I pull the dagger free,” he told her, “ye’ll need to press very firmly against the wound.Can ye do that?”
She nodded, though he saw she’d gone a bit pale.He could cross surgeon off the list of her possible true identities.Whoever Eve was—outlaw, nun, noblewoman, or tournament champion—she probably wasn’t used to seeing so much blood.
“Ready?”he asked, wrapping his fingers around the haft of the dagger.
She nodded.
The blade slipped free more easily than he expected.That was a good sign.Simon made a soft groan, still only half-conscious.But blood oozed out, and Eve’s blue brocade bloomed dark scarlet as she closed her eyes tight against the grisly sight.
He set aside the bloody dagger and, taking mercy on her, gently replaced her hands with his own.
