Page 47 of The Silversmith

“I don’t think I could ever hate you.” But I’d acted like it. I’d marched right over to him, ready to fight, and I had. My shoulders slumped. “I just… I was frustrated. You frustrate me.”

“Likewise.”

But he was grinning as he approached a small, trickling stream of the clearest water I’d ever seen. The black-corded necklace with two rings had been bloodied. I watched as he removed it from his neck and knelt to rinse the silver rings. They rested in his scarred fingers, a beautiful and delicate contrast to his roughness.

“Why do you carry those rings around your neck?” The larger, tarnished silver ring looked like it belonged to a man. Now a bit closer, I could see that the second, smaller, delicate band—likely a woman’s—had flowers and vines intertwined in the metal. Beautiful, precious work. “You usually tuck them in like you’re hiding them. Are they both yours?”

When he turned to face me, his lips were drawn taut, skin paling. “The larger one is mine.”

“And the smaller one?” I asked. “A woman’s?”

My gut churned, silently begging for an answer different from the one I dreaded. I had no right, but I threw out a desperate prayer to the gods. Let it belong to a sister, a mother, or no one at all.

Finally, he exhaled sharply, ran his wet fingers through his hair, and admitted, “It belongs…” He flinched. “It belonged to my wife.”

Wife.

It echoed inside of me like a hollow wail in a dark, empty room with no windows, no doors. An unfamiliar, anxious chill slithered through my chest, threatening to wrap around my neck and choke me.

I hadn’t imagined Gavin with a wife. He didn’t seem the type. But he was old enough that he’d lived many adult years before coming to know me. Years filled with love, adventure, joy, and a plethora of other things I’d never experienced. That terrible stomachache burrowed so deep it nagged at my spine. Of course he had experience and history. He was a grown man, and I was barely an adult.

“Where is your wife?” I asked quietly.

“Lost.”

And there it was—that glimpse of heartbreaking longing, that sadness that had consumed him the morning he found me crumpled on the ground, a victim of the wolf. I looked away from him, uncomfortable, my heart settling under the weight of his silent plea. His unwavering focus flayed me and my senses alive.

“Lost how?”

“It doesn’t—” He cleared his throat and placed the black rope and rings around his neck. “It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done.”

It was a failed effort to move. To shift. To act like I was unaffected. The envy took root like a poison. Could I really be so bothered at the thought of his heart belonging to another? Certainly, I had no right, especially when I was betrothed to marry Elias.

But that look in his eyes. It hurt him. It hurt me, as if he loved her so much, as if he’d lost so much that his pain had unfurled itself from a dark place in his heart and lashed out, striking me.

I feared such terrible pain. And I longed for it. To feel agony so deeply… surely, a love just as deep had to exist on the other side of it.

“What was she like?” My chest stung at the thought of her. A stunning woman. Strong, tall, confident, and alluring. I knew asking about her was a defense mechanism, my mind’s impulse to remind my reacting heart and body that this tension between us—tension I had likely misread was there in the first place—would not culminate the way I secretly hoped.

“She was perfect.” He ran his hand over his mouth and avoided my gaze as he spoke. “Brought up in a prominent, wealthy family. Her father was a war general, and her mother was…” His jaw clenched, and he shook his head. I glanced at him, brow furrowed, but he continued despite my confusion. “My wife was greatly cherished. Protected but… stifled.” A grimace flickered across his face at the last word. “I was far below her status. Frankly, it was a miracle she ever looked at me. Her family didn’t allow her to go out on her own, but she was rebellious that way. Stubborn. One day, she snuck out and showed up in my blacksmith’s shop.” A warm smile finally graced his rugged features. “The day I saw her was the luckiest day of my life. She was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

When he turned to me, his gaze softened. It made me feel oddly warm, but conflicted. I swallowed a lump in my throat.

“She told me she needed a weapon and she needed me to teach her how to use it,” Gavin continued. “I looked like a fool, I’m sure. Struck stupid with shock, utterly speechless, dirt on my face, arms, clothes covered in soot.” He laughed down at his hands. “I would have done anything she asked.”

“What happened to her?”

“She was taken from me,” he uttered slowly, lost to his thoughts for a brief moment before shaking them off. “But as I said, what’s done is done.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “The woman you love must be pretty remarkable.”

He looked at me, the light in his hickory eyes devoured by sadness. Perhaps he regretted sharing his secret with a naïve young woman. Maybe he’d told me, then realized I would never understand. He reached for me regardless, and with his thumb beneath my chin, he guided my attention back to him, features now twisted with remorse. “Forget about it,” he muttered. “Alright?”

I forced a smile, knowing forgetting this was impossible. Just like I couldn’t forget Caz’s wife. Or how Finn and Gemma still weren’t together because of the obstacles our people faced. I could never forget what these people were sacrificing. For me. For a promise made by an ancient queen that I was expected to keep. I could never let myself forget.

He cleared his throat and shook his head, turning toward camp. As if he’d come close to losing himself in memories of her, and my presence brought him back.

I hated that it made him sad to be back here with me.