Page 39 of The Blacksmith’s Wish

His knees weakened, and he staggered back, breathing hard as the light slowly faded.

The silence was broken by birdsong drifting down through the branches once more. The forest returned to life; shadows returned where there’d been only light seconds earlier.

Heart hammering, Gowan’s hands shook as they reached for the hem of his tunic. This was it; if there truly had been a miracle, he’d see it. Slowly, he lifted the cloth.

His hopeful smile vanished at noting that the scars were still there. Every twisted ridge, every pale, angry line, stark reminders of the man he’d become.

A hollow ache settled inside his chest as he let the tunic fall.

“So much for miracles,” he muttered bitterly and barked out a humorless laugh and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“What did ye expect?” he whispered to himself. “That years of pain would vanish because ye asked nicely?”

Shame washed over him that he had believed. For one impossible moment, he had truly believed he might ride home whole. Feeling more foolish than he had in years, Gowan turned toward his horse.

The first step stopped him.

He frowned.

His right shoulder…

It no longer pulled.

He rolled it experimentally.

No sharp tug followed.

Confused, he stretched his arm across his body, then overhead.

The familiar tightness that had haunted nearly every movement since the fire was…gone.

His brow furrowed. With growing urgency, he lifted his tunic once more. The scars still crossed his shoulder, side, and back, but they no longer looked quite the same. The angry crimson had faded to a softer silver-white. The puckered ridges had flattened. The skin no longer appeared twisted and strained, but supple, as though years of relentless tension had simply melted away.

Tentatively, he ran his fingertips over the largest scar. It no longer felt like hardened leather.

It felt almost like… ordinary skin. Emotion swelled so suddenly it stole the breath from his lungs. The stone had not erased what had happened. It had not tried to rewrite his past.

Instead, it had lifted the burden he had carried every waking moment since the fire. The scars remained but the pain and tightness did not. For the first time in years, he could draw a full breath without feeling his flesh pull against it.

Falling to his knees, Gowan lifted his face toward the darkening sky, tears blurring the ancient trees.

“Thank ye,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

“I never needed to forget.” He smiled through the tears.

“I only needed to heal.”

Chapter Thirteen

Despite the lingering doubts stirred by finding Gowan gone from the bed the day before, Effie woke the following morning in surprisingly good spirits.

It was as though the world had awakened washed clean. The air carried the crisp sweetness of dew-kissed grass, and a gentle breeze stirred the leaves overhead, carrying with it the earthy scent of damp soil and wildflowers. Even the birds seemed to sing more brightly this morning. Effie drew in a deep breath as she stepped from the cottage, the cool morning air filling her lungs. Her heart felt lighter than it had in months, buoyed by memories she had no wish to forget.

As always, the animals came first. No one in the McRay household broke their fast until every creature under their care had been tended to. Her father often reminded them that a hungry beast could not understand promises of “later.” The animals depended upon their family completely, and so their needs always came before anyone else’s.

After scattering grain to the eager chickens, who clucked noisily and darted around her boots, Effie wandered toward the corral. She rested her forearms atop the weathered fence, smiling despite herself.

The mule lifted his head from the grass the instant he noticed her. His ears pricked forward, and with an expectant snort he trotted across the enclosure, his gaze fixed not upon her face but upon the bright orange carrots clasped in her hand.