Page 7 of The Archer’s Wish

He had no intention of joining the revelry, but Alexander insisted he take several days to visit his family in Tokavaig. “Rest,” the laird had said. “Time away will do ye good.”

Rest. A fine word for being exiled from duties he could no longer perform.

Still, seeing his parents and sister would be welcome, even if it meant being painfully close to the joyous celebration he wanted no part of.

As was his habit, he took the path leading toward the woods. The quiet helped settle his breath… until footsteps matched his own stride.

Hendry.

One of the leaders of the guard and his closest friend, and now the man Liam tried hardest to avoid. Despite Liam’s attempts at distance, Hendry clung to their friendship like a burr in a blanket, unyielding, unshakeable. In truth, Liam could never fault the man’s loyalty.

“Ailith and I are heading to the village after last meal,” Hendry said, falling into step beside him with casual ease. “We’re staying at my parents’ house. Closer to the festivities. She’s setting up a table to sell her wares.”

Liam didn’t slow his pace. “Aye? And what has that to do with me?” His tone was flat, indifferent, the only defense he had left.

Hendry’s hand clamped onto Liam’s shoulder, halting him. The warrior grinned. “It means ye will ride with us.”

Liam’s jaw tightened. He hadn’t thought about how he’d travel. Since the injury, his family visited him at the keep. He had no steed; his horse had died in the battle that nearly claimed him as well. And he hadn’t found the heart to seek a new one.

Before he could muster a reply, Hendry spoke again, eyes gleaming. “Dinnae bother arguing. No one else wants to endure ye and that foul temperament of yers.”

Liam shot him a dry look. “Very well. I will be ready.”

They resumed walking, though Hendry’s cheerful whistling felt like a personal assault. Liam tried not to resent the man his happiness. Tried. And failed. Hendry had everything: a strong arm for battle, a loyal horse, and a beautiful wife who adored him. It was no wonder the man whistled.

“I’ve been meaning to ask ye something,” Hendry said at last.

Liam should have ignored him. Instead, he muttered, “What, pray tell?”

“Are ye entering the archery competition? I’ve nae seen ye practice.”

The question punched the air from his lungs.

Archery had once been his pride. His gift. The longbow had been an extension of his body. Now? He wasn’t even sure he could hold his balance drawing the string, much less compete.

“I am nae,” Liam said tightly.

“Hmm.” Hendry shrugged, though disappointment flickered in his eyes. “Then Knox will have no real competition.”

A muscle jumped in Liam’s jaw.

“I’ve heard there’s an archer at Monro Ross’ keep, quite a formidable one,” Liam said, voice stiff. “He was meant to compete against me.” The words tasted bitter. Envy coiled in his gut, sharp and ugly. He grunted, hating the sound that escaped him.

“I’m eager to watch the match,” Hendry said, unfazed. “Should be a good one.”

Liam didn’t reply. His thoughts were already elsewhere, on the weight of a bow in his hands, the familiar tension of a string drawn tight, the pure clarity of a perfect shot.

It was inevitable and nothing good came of thinking about it. No reason to put himself through the agony of watching others do what he no longer could.

And yet…

Despite himself, despite every ache in his leg and in his pride, Liam knew he’d stand among the crowd at the archery field. Even if it cut through him like a blade, he would watch.

He had to. For a man like him, some habits were too deeply rooted to abandon, no matter how much they hurt.

*

By the time they reached Tokavaig, dusk had settled over the village, but the hour did nothing to still its pulse. The square was alive with movement, lanterns flickering in windows and along doorframes as villagers hurried to finish their preparations. Colorful banners draped from the upper stories of the surrounding houses, swaying gently in the evening breeze. Laughter drifted through the streets, mingling with the distant clang of hammers and the smell of roasted meat from nearby cookfires.