At a rate of one a day that's four days. Carel revises her mental deadline.
She does not turn to see Dianav look upset. She hesitates. It's not just squeamishness. She's actually not sure how you get an eye out. She gets it out of the socket, draws a sharp breath, exhales shakily. It's still attached by something. She pauses. She wants to pray. Shame all the gods are evil and it's the local goddess doing this to her.
She silently and secretly recontextualizes the experience for herself. Sometimes narrative matters.
It is for the strength to survive another day of her eye for herself, for her life, for her power. For knowledge of what the witch wants and knowledge of her evils, for food, for the chance to someday destroy the witch and all she stands for.
She does not ask to borrow a knife. She has no need of help, she is master of her own body and if she wills a part to be gone it shall be gone with no need for help.
She hands over her right eye, as the price for knowing why exactly the witch needs to die.