Page 33 of The Archer’s Wish

“Enough,” Keir said. “He won’t trouble her again.”

Cormac slumped, shaking, eyes already swelling shut.

Liam released him and stepped back, chest heaving, knuckles bloodied and throbbing. Pain shot up his leg, but he didnae care. Not one bit.

Keir glanced sideways, studying Liam with a new understanding. A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Ye care for her,” Keir said, not a question but a quiet, knowing statement.

Liam’s jaw tightened. “It does nae matter.”

“Aye,” Keir murmured, “it matters more than ye think.”

Cormac whimpered as he tried to rise, and Keir’s expression darkened. He stepped forward and kicked the man square in the ribs.

Cormac toppled over with a grunt.

“That’s for touching my sister.” Keir leaned down. “If ye come near her again ye’ll not live to regret it.”

Then he straightened and motioned toward the apothecary. “Come. We need to make sure Beitris sees ye looking like a hero, before ye fall over from the pain.”

Liam let out a harsh huff of breath, somewhere near a laugh, and followed. Limping, but tall.

Behind them, Cormac stayed on his knees in the dirt, coughing blood.

The walk back toward the apothecary was slow, Liam’s hip and leg protesting every step. The fire in his knuckles a steady reminder of the blows he’d delivered. Dust clung to his boots, blood smeared across his hand and sweat dampened the back of his neck.

Keir kept pace beside him, quiet for once. The fury that had driven him moments earlier now simmering into something more thoughtful.

They reached a narrow passage between two stone houses, cool, shaded, a brief refuge from the eyes of the villagers. Keir stopped suddenly and placed a firm hand against Liam’s chest.

“Hold.” His voice was low.

Liam braced, breath uneven. He wondered if Keir would ask about his injured side.

Instead, Keir simply regarded him with a long, assessing stare.

Finally, he nodded once. “Thank ye.”

Liam blinked. “For nearly killing the bastard?”

“For caring.” Keir folded his arms. “For stepping in. For making him regret ever looking Beitris’s way.”

The sincerity in his voice hit strangely. Liam looked away, jaw tightening. “I did what any man would’ve done.”

“Nae,” Keir said. “Most men would’ve picked a fight and boasted about it. Ye fought because ye were furious. Ye fought for her.”

Liam’s throat tightened, the unspoken truth between them sharper than any blade.

Keir stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Ye care for my sister, Liam McRay. That was clear long before ye threw yer first punch.”

Liam let out a slow exhale. “It is nae wise. Ye ken as much.”

“Aye,” Keir conceded. “But Beitris is nae a prize to be won. She’s a woman with her own mind. And ye…” His blue eyes narrowed, thoughtful. “The way ye fought today, it was the warrior in ye.”

Liam huffed a bitter laugh. “I am hardly that anymore.”

“Ye’re wrong.” Keir’s tone cut through the doubt with sharp precision. “I watched ye hold Cormac off the ground with one arm. Watched ye drive him to his knees.” He tapped a finger against Liam’s chest. “Ye fought like a man I would trust at my side.”