Page 20 of The Archer’s Wish

After ensuring he was alone, Liam leaned his cane against a sturdy birch and rolled his shoulders. He stretched his leg, then after hesitating only a moment, he broke into a slow jog toward a tree several paces away. Not fast, but fast enough to test his injured side.

His leg stiffened instantly, protesting each stride. But the sharp, searing pain he feared didnae come. Only the familiar dull ache, stubborn but bearable.

He touched the rough bark, turned, and went back. Slow, cautious, alert to the slightest warning of strain. He repeated the process three more times. His breath growing ragged, sweat dampening his brow. At last, he braced himself against the birch beside his cane, chest rising and falling.

The woods shifted.

It was subtle at first, a faint change in the air pressure, like the world inhaling. Then the wind turned, brushing past him with sudden, startling purpose. Every bird fell silent mid-song. Even the leaves stilled, suspended as if holding their breath.

Liam straightened slowly, senses sharpened. For a moment, he expected to hear hooves pounding through the undergrowth, or the cry of a hawk overhead.

Nothing.

Just the eerie, perfect silence.

His gaze drifted toward the fallen tree where he and Effie had sat the night before. The clearing around it glowed faintly brighter than the rest of the woods, as if the sunlight favored that one patch of earth. The air there shimmered almost imperceptibly, like heat was rising from stone though the cool morning air.

Liam blinked hard, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and shut his eyes to steady himself. When he opened them again, the wind shifted back. The leaves rustled. Birdsong burst forth in a jubilant cascade, loud enough to make him flinch.

The clearing looked entirely normal.

Ye are letting Effie’s nonsense get into yer head, he told himself, straightening.

Yet the hairs on his forearms stood on end.

He picked up his cane, rolling his weight carefully onto his leg. Perhaps the exertion had muddled his senses as he hadn’t attempted such effort since before the battle. Still, the strange hush, the brightness, the way the air had felt alive were not all a figment of his imagination.

He exhaled sharply.

Whatever it was, real or imagined, he’d be back.

Tomorrow morning, he would try to run again. And each day after, until the strength in his leg returned. At the same time he could find out if something really did stir in this particular patch of forest.

When Liam finally turned back toward the village, he halted mid-step.

A familiar figure stood at the edge of the path, Beitris, planted firmly like a warrior queen guarding her territory. Her chin jutted forward, eyes narrowed to slits, arms crossed tightly across her chest. The morning breeze tugged at the ends of her red wavy hair, which had escaped the confines of her modest braid.

She wore a deep moss-green gown today, the color rich against her smooth, warm skin. The fitted bodice emphasized the gentle curve of her waist, while the soft wool skirts swayed around her ankles, brushing the tops of her sturdy leather shoes. A simple cream shawl was wrapped around her shoulders, though the way she stood, feet braced, back straight, eyes blazing, made her look anything but delicate.

He didn’t have to wonder why she was furious. Her glare said everything long before her voice reached him.

“I have been calling to ye, asking that ye stop at once!” she snapped the moment he was close enough. “Did ye nae hear me?” Her eyes bore into him like twin daggers. “Madness like that could make things worse. There is nae need for it.” She punctuated her fury with a stomp so fierce the earth seemed to feel it.

Beitris was magnificent in anger. Her eyes glowed like polished amber, her cheeks flushed a rosy hue, and those lips, though pressed into a thin line, still tempted him in a way he wished they didn’t.

Composing himself, Liam closed the distance with deliberate slowness, adopting an expression as neutral as stone. He stopped just shy of touching her.

“I need to ken how my body reacts to fast movement,” he said evenly.

It was a line he had used before, lock eyes, then drop his gaze to a woman’s lips. A subtle flirtation, second nature to him. But with Beitris, it felt different. Wrong, even. Nothing could come of it. Women like her, sensible, bright, whole, deserved a man whose body wasn’t marked by battle’s cruelty.

Still, some habits lingered.

What he didnae expect was her response.

Beitris’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “I am sure ye will be testing yerself soon enough in other ways than running.”

Liam nearly stumbled. Shock flared through him, heat rushing up his neck. He widened his eyes, but just as quickly regained control.