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Liam swallowed hard.
No one had said such words to him since the day he’d fallen on the battlefield on death’s door and been told he was broken beyond repair.
Keir continued, voice firm, “If ye want it, ye have a place back in the warrior ranks.”
The world seemed to still.
Liam stared at him, heart hammering, not with fear this time, but something fiercer. Hope. Pride. Recognition of a part of himself he’d believed dead.
“Keir…” he rasped. “I dinnae ken what to say.”
“It is the truth.” Keir placed a hand on his shoulder, gripping it tightly. “Ye should ken it.”
Liam nodded slowly, the weight of the moment settling into his bones like heat.
Keir’s expression softened with something almost like brotherhood. “And Liam… if ye truly care for my sister, tell her. She deserves honesty, even if it frightens ye.”
Liam looked down at his bloodied knuckles. “Aye,” he whispered, although unsure if he really ever would.
Keir gave a satisfied nod and stepped back toward the sunlight. “Come. Let her see ye before ye drop like a felled ox.”
Liam straightened, heart pounding not with rage this time, but with resolve.
For the first time since his injury, the man walking beside Keir was not a broken warrior.
He was simply a warrior.
Chapter Nine
The apothecary had quieted at last.
Her mother had stepped out to fetch more herbs. Her father had gone to speak with a guardsman. Camden watched her like a hawk for several tense breaths before muttering that he would only be gone a moment, though she suspected he needed a moment to calm.
For the first time that morning, Beitris was alone.
She pressed the cool cloth to her cheek, fighting back the dull ache pulsing through her jaw. Her lip still stung with every breath. Yet the pain was nothing compared to the hollow fear that lingered in her chest, fear of seeing Cormac again. Fear of Keir or Liam getting hurt. Cormac would not hesitate to use whatever weapon he could reach for.
The door creaked and her breath caught.
Liam stepped inside.
His shoulders were stiff, jaw carved in stone, his entire body rigid. Something was wrong. Her gaze flew over him until stopping at his hands.
His knuckles were raw, split open, swollen, and streaked with dried blood.
Beitris’s heart lurched violently.
“Liam…” she whispered.
Something sorrowful flicked behind his eyes then he stepped forward. A slow, deliberate movement, as though unsure how close to her he should be.
Beitris rose despite the throb in her head. “Ye fought him.”
He didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
She reached for his hand before she could think better of it. Her fingers hovered over his bruised knuckles, not wanting to hurt him. “Ye did this because of me.”
