Page 48 of The Archer’s Wish

But the moment Liam was steady on his feet, he laughed.

It burst out of him wild and bright. He spun, then danced a ridiculous jig, light on his feet as if his leg had never been injured.

The men stared as though he had sprouted wings.

But Liam knew. His wish had been granted.

The miracle stone existed. And it had deemed him worthy of granting a wish to.

He sobered abruptly, instinct tightening in his chest. This must remain a secret. The stone was meant to be a legend. Nothing more. For some reason, he was sure of it.

“Let us go,” he said, hopping easily into the back of the wagon, so easily the men exchanged baffled glances.

“A strong whiskey will do ye good,” the older man muttered, shaking his head.

Liam grinned, unable and unwilling to contain the joy swelling in his chest.

If they only knew.

Chapter Thirteen

Beitris had only meant to fetch more herbs from the apothecary, nothing more than that. But as she stepped into the village square, basket in hand and mind on her errands, the familiar creak of wheels and the sharp clop of hooves drew her attention.

A horse-drawn wagon rolled into view, sunlight glinting off its polished wood. The man driving took her breath. He sat tall, shoulders squared, everything about him exuding confidence and power. Liam was a born leader, a born warrior. Nothing about his presence could be taught.

He guided the horse with easy confidence, shoulders broad beneath his tunic, hair catching gold from the late morning sun. His expression was focused until he spotted her, then something flickered across his face. Something warm. Something that made her pulse skip against her will.

He brought the wagon to a halt beside her. “Beitris.”

She swallowed. “Liam.”

He climbed down with a smoothness that startled her. His movements far smoother than the last time she’d seen him move. He landed on the ground with hardly a wince. Her brows lifted, suspicion mingling with surprise.

“I’ve been looking for ye,” he said, voice low and intent. “I… have something to tell ye.” he hesitated, searching her eyes. “Would ye come with me?”

A dozen alarms clanged in her head. Absolutely not. That should have been her answer. She’d decided, firmly that she was done letting Liam McRay drag her heart through the mud.

But her traitorous heart stirred at the intensity in his gaze.

“Where?” she asked, keeping her voice clipped, controlled.

His lips curved slightly. “Ye will see.”

“No,” she countered, lifting her chin. “If ye mean for me to go anywhere with ye, Liam, ye’ll have to explain why.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish and earnest all at once. “It’s not far, just past the edge of the village there.” He pointed forward past the seamstress’s shop. “And I promise to bring ye back straight away. Trust me.”

That was precisely the problem. She still wanted to believe him. To trust him. To be near him. And she was furious with herself for it.

She let out a slow, steadying breath. “Fine,” she said finally. “But only because I’ve errands in that direction.”

Liam didn’t call her bluff, though his eyes glimmered with amusement. “Aye,” he said. “Of course.”

Beitris climbed onto the wagon, settling beside him but leaving a careful gap between them. The scent of wood shavings clung to him, clean and warm, mixed with something else she couldn’t quite name. Something new.

As they set off, the wheels bumped over the rutted path leading away from the village, she kept her gaze forward, refusing to be caught looking at him, though every sense she possessed was acutely aware of his nearness.

“Ye’re quiet,” he said after a moment.