This must be what walking to the hangman’s noose felt like. Only, unlike a mortal, Amaia knew she would make this walk more than once. There was no deceiving herself into believing that Michael would not return and remember her after he died this time. This was the new pattern of her existence.
The clanging of hammer on metal reverberated in the air, signaling that Michael was working. The sound invariably brought a smile to her face. In a few seconds, she would see him. She never tired of observing his work. In this life, he made his way as a blacksmith and farrier in addition to farming his little plot of land. The physical work made for excellent entertainment.
The wind carried the faint, bitter smell of fire. Ever since Michael had started his apprenticeship as a blacksmith years ago, the tang of smoke in the air conjured his image in Amaia’s mind. The years had worn down her defenses, and she no longer fought his frequent appearances in her daydreams. Watching the pride he took in his work, the manner in which he conducted himself, stirred something in Amaia. When she didn’t struggle and simply let herself be, she understood how she had fancied herself in love with him.
She could make out his form in the distance. A film of sweat covered his skin as he labored away in the smithy connected to his small home. Beads of it rested on his shoulders and the angular planes of his face. His chocolate-colored hair fell in unruly curls, a contrast to his clean-shaven, square jaw. A chill lingered in the morning air, but the heat of his exertions and the fire had chased away his shirt. Such a magnificent sight. In Amaia’s professional opinion, he was quite a fine-looking man. Would that the men who could afford her worked such rigorous labor.
The muscles of his back rippled as he brought the hammer down, forming the metal into a horseshoe, strong and solid. He performed his work with care and precision that seemed at odds with his large frame. The lines of his body were seared into her mind. She had spent countless hours watching him, becoming lost in his work, letting the peace and stillness that so eluded her in the rest of her life envelop her. This day would be different.
Only a year of his life remained. She had stayed in the shadows, watching him more and more as he grew older. A few months before, both of his parents had died from a fever. For a stretch of time, Amaia had wondered if Michael would follow. She didn’t know whether she wanted him to or not. The measure of relief when he didn’t was disconcerting, but not as surprising as it would once have been. After the funeral, he had decided to sell his parents’ home and set out on his own. He’d wanted to start his own smithy and had only moved to Algar a few weeks before. It coincided well with her own move to Madrid. She now lived less than seven hours away from him. Perfect.
Her nerves were just as bad as last time, maybe worse, but she was resolute. She swept the dirt off her dark blue dress, smoothed the lace accents, and approached him. As she drew near, Michael turned at the sound of her footsteps. The smile that lit his face ignited a spark inside her. He threw the horseshoe in the cooling bucket and ran to her.
“You came.” Michael swept her into a hug.
“Yes, a little later than I promised.”
“You didn’t promise a time. All I care is that you’re here.” That was just like Michael. He’d always insisted on seeing the best in her, whether it existed or not. “Oh, Jocelyn, it’s been so long.”
Amaia pushed him away. “Don’t call me that, Michael. It’s not my name anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time.”
“All right. What would you have me call you?”
“Amaia.” It was risky having him know her by her vampire name, but she couldn’t stand hearing her mortal name on his lips. It was a lie. She wasn’t that girl anymore, and she wasn’t going to pretend she was.
“Amaia. That’s pretty. Amaia it is.”
“Thank you.”
“Here, come sit.” Michael gestured to a wooden bench outside the smithy. It was the perfect size for both of them. “I looked for you the day after you came to see me last and then the next and the next. Even in this life, I’ve kept watching for you. I’ve felt you near, but I never saw you. I had almost given up hope that you’d return. But here you are. I should have never doubted.”
His faith in her was as foolish as it had been during her mortal life. She wanted to apologize to him, but the mere thought of apologizing to a mortal was ridiculous. “I can’t get away easily.” As if that explained everything.
Michael’s smile didn’t falter, as if trysts frequently spanned lifetimes. “Where do you live?”