Had he left to prove that point?
Whether he had or he hadn’t, there was a queasy feeling in her stomach that wouldn’t settle, despite the warmth of the Hollow. She wasn’t afraid, but she wasn’t at peace.
Evangeline stirred her cider and shoved her food around her plate.
Halfway through her meal, the tiny dragon suddenly darted behind her cider mug. The last broken heart scar on Evangeline’s wrist prickled, and she turned toward the tavern doorway to find Jacks had returned.
He was breathtaking without even trying as he leaned in the doorframe with windswept golden hair and a crooked cape.
“Where have—” She broke off almost immediately.
Jacks wasn’t leaning in the doorway, he was gripping it for support.
“Jacks!” She ran across the tavern, horrified as his cape slipped from his shoulder, revealing a great stain of sparkling gold and red blood.
37
“What happened?” Evangeline gasped.
“I was just being myself.” Jacks staggered back, half collapsing on a bench in the entry.
Snowy air blew inside from the cracked-open door. She knew she should shut it, but she went to him first. She’d never seen him injured, and it was surprisingly terrifying.
“Jacks—” She shook his cold shoulders, gentle but firm. She didn’t know much about tending to injuries, but she recalled he hadn’t let her pass out when she’d been bleeding. “Please, stay with me. I don’t know what to do.”
The glittering blood was spreading across his doublet, turning the smoky gray to red. Her chest clenched at the sight of it; she wished she hadn’t just sat in the tavern, she wished she’d gone out looking for him. As a Fate, Jacks didn’t age, but he could die if injured badly enough.
She needed to mend him quickly. She needed to take off his doublet, clean the wound, then stitch it up.
“Is the weapon still in there?” She reached for his cloak to push it farther back.
“It’s fine.” Jacks grabbed her wrist, stopping her hand from exploring. “I just need a blanket … and some sleep.”
He tugged her toward him as if intending her for the blanket.
“Oh no—I’m not a quilt.” She braced her free hand against the wall, stomach tumbling as she looked down on his hazy blue eyes. “I need to stitch you up first.”
It took two pulls to free her wrist. Even injured, Jacks was incredibly strong. She could still feel the imprint of his cold fingers as she dashed into the tavern.
Behind the bar, she found liquor and then a number of cloths, which she desperately hoped would do for now. She could clean him first, then search for thread and needles.
“You’re wasting your time, Little Fox.” Jacks leaned against the doorway, clutching his side. “It’s just a knife to the ribs.”
“I suppose it’s going to heal on its own?”
“Yours did.”
“After you tended to them.”
His mouth twitched up at the corner. “Only because I wanted to take off your clothes.”
A vivid image of Jacks’s hands on her skin flashed before her eyes.
Of course, she was almost certain he was joking. He seemed delirious. His eyes were losing focus, and he was swaying on his feet.
Evangeline didn’t know how she got him up a flight of stairs. Fortunately, there were endless available rooms at the Hollow. She helped him into the closest one, a suite that smelled of fresh pine needles. The carpets were deep shades of green, the bed was made of thick cuts of wood, and the sheets were crisp and white. A fire kicked to life in the hearth as soon as he half fell onto the bed.
Jacks’s bleeding had thankfully stopped, but he seemed exhausted. Before he shut his eyes, she saw that they were webbed with red, and even the blue was tinged with it. She wondered if he’d slept at all the past couple of days.
It felt strange to worry about Jacks, but she doubted anyone else did, including himself. His chest barely rose and fell as he lay across a pile of snowy white quilts.
Evangeline hastened out to retrieve a basin of water.
When she returned, Jacks had kicked his boots onto the wood floor, but he still wore his cloak and bloody doublet.
“Are you going to tell me what you were doing?” she pressed.
“I already told you,” he muttered. “I was just being myself. Other people were being their horrible selves, and as you can see, it didn’t end well.”
“Where were you?”
“Stop asking such difficult questions.”
He groaned, eyes still closed, as she undid the cloak to get to the wound. She hung the garment on a chair near the roaring fire to dry. Snow had left it damp, and she imagined it was also wet with blood, though the fabric was too dark to see.