Page 30 of The Archer’s Wish

Beitris closed her eyes again, a knot forming in her throat. Even wrapped in the safety of family and friends, the world suddenly felt far too fragile.

Chapter Eight

Liam had been at the far end of the village speaking with a leatherworker about a strap for a leg brace when he noticed the mood of the square had shifted. The usual bustle of festival recovery, women laughing, children chasing each other, men hauling barrels, had quieted.

People huddled in small knots, whispering.

Glancing.

At him.

A cold prickle swept up his spine.

He leaned more heavily on his cane as he approached, his leg throbbing but ignored entirely. “What’s happened?” he asked a passing lad.

The boy hesitated, eyes widening, then bolted without answering.

Liam’s stomach dropped.

He spotted Effie rushing toward him, skirts gathered in her hands. Her face was pale, eyes too bright.

“Brother, ye need to come,” she panted.

Liam’s pulse spiked. “Effie… What is it?”

“It’s Beitris.”

Everything inside him went still. Like his heart had simply… stopped.

“What about her?”

Effie grabbed his arm and pulled, urgency in every movement. “Cormac attacked her.”

The words hit like a blade to his gut.

Liam staggered, breath ripping from his lungs. For a long moment he couldn’t move, rage and terror rooting him in place. Then something inside him snapped.

He surged forward, nearly knocking Effie off her feet. “Where is she?”

“At the apothecary.”

He didn’t wait. Didn’t think. He forced his leg into motion, every step a jolt of pain, but compared to the pain rising in his chest, it was nothing.

He pushed through villagers who parted instinctively at the look on his face. A few murmured his name. Someone muttered, “Liam McRay looks ready to kill.” Another whispered about Cormac. But Liam barely heard.

He burst into the apothecary.

The sight stopped him dead.

Beitris sat on a stool, her mother dabbing gently at her cheek with a wet cloth. Her father hovered nearby, red-faced and trembling with fury. Camden stood rigid by the window, hands fisted at his sides, jaw clenched so tight a vein pulsed in his temple.

And Beitris… Her face was swollen on one side, cheek turning a deep, vicious purple. A cut split her lower lip. A contrite expression on her face when she noticed him.

Rage flooded him so fiercely he had to take large gulps of air as everyone turned to look at him. Her father looked relieved, glad to have someone else to share his anger.

He turned toward the door, every line of his body taut with violence. “I’ll kill him.” Her father stepped forward. “I’ll go with ye. That bastard laid hands on my daughter!

“Nae.” Liam’s voice rang with deadly clarity. “This is mine to settle.”