She took one deep breath, then Dr. Reynolds began calling orders. “Kevin, fetch the board against the stables. Ian, there’s a satchel in the trunk at the end of my bed. It’s locked—break it. Isabelle, stop screaming and fetch a clean sheet—now, move. Lady Madelyn, Anna—clean the table in the great hall with antiseptic and lay your instruments on the buffet.” She never took her eyes from Gavin as she rattled off each instruction. She knew he was keeping something from her. “What? Tell me, Gavin, now.”

“His leg wound—I think ’tis mortal.”

“Just—hold—tight—Gavin,” she ground out between her teeth. She didn’t come back almost five hundred frigging years to lose. She was the best. And right now, she was the best this world had to offer.

Kevin returned with Alex in tow, the new soldier Greylen had taken under his wing. Just as Duncan helped them brace the board for Greylen’s weight, Isabelle ran outside. She was less hysterical now and helped Gwen drape the sheet over the board while Connell and Hugh took Greylen from Gavin’s arms. They placed him on the board and started for the steps, listening to her instructions as they hurried.

“Carry him to the great hall, but don’t remove him. Isabelle,” she called without turning, “see to Gavin’s and Kevin’s wounds.”

Lady Madelyn and Anna were still placing items on the buffet when Ian ran into the room with her satchel. Kevin, Duncan, and Alex held Greylen on the board and she instructed Ian, Hugh, and Connell to grab the corners of the sheet as she reached for the other, but Gavin was already there, and they all lifted Greylen onto the table.

“Let Isabelle see to your wounds,” she instructed Gavin and Kevin. “He’ll need to be moved again.” Gwen started washing her hands, shouting for everyone to do the same. She grabbed her instruments.

She started with the wound on his thigh, knowing if she didn’t stop the bleeding, Gavin would be right with his prediction. “Mother, take my stethoscope and check his heartbeat. Anna, thread the needle, the one on the left side, and hand it to me when I ask.” She began probing the gash in Greylen’s thigh, what was left of his blood, which couldn’t be much, barely pulsing from the wound when she removed the bindings. The arrowhead was embedded close to the bone and her fingers kept slipping. She forgot to breathe. Focus, Gwen!

She felt a strong hand on her shoulder, Gavin squeezing it reassuringly. “Gavin, stand at the head of the table, keep his neck straight so the passage stays clear to his lungs, and make sure you can feel his breath.”