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Astrangled sob escaped Thea as she fell to her knees in the snow beside her friend. Kipp wheezed through the pain, blood pulsing from the wound.

‘What the fuck were you doing?’ she muttered, noting the film of venom on the fang, the pallor of Kipp’s face.

‘Dancing the fucking foxtrot with a bunch of spiders —’ He coughed, blood lining his teeth and spilling down his chin.’What’d you think I was doing?’

The rise and fall of his chest was shallow and uneven, his breaths rattling as he struggled to draw air through the congealing blood.

‘What’s a dying man need to do to get a drink around here?’ he rasped.

‘You’re not dying,’ Cal said, kneeling on Kipp’s other side, gripping his shoulder.

Kipp made a garbled sound that might have been a laugh. ‘And they called me useless…’ He choked this time, more blood spewing from his lips, his body contracting around the wound in his chest, the agony bright in his eyes. ‘What I’d do for some sour mead right about now…’ Tears streamed down his face, his expression contorted with pain as another wave of it seized him.

Thea’s heart was pounding, harder than it had throughout the battle itself, as a realisation hit her like a blow.

She reached for the vial resting against her sternum and pulled it from the chain around her neck.

‘It’s not sour mead,’ she said, removing the cork with her teeth. ‘But it’s a damn sight more useful.’

Seeing what she was about to do, Torj gave the fang a sharp pull from Kipp’s chest and Kipp screamed, the wound gushing crimson, his body thrashing beneath their hold. Thea grabbed his chin and poured her Aveum springwater into his mouth.

‘Don’t you dare fucking die, Kristopher,’ she muttered, making sure every last drop passed through his lips. ‘Don’t you dare fucking die.’

Silence fell as Kipp stopped writhing, and his eyes stopped blinking.

Thea sucked in the icy air, her heart sinking as she dropped the empty vial in the snow. Her trembling hands went numb at her sides. This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t – wouldn’t believe it. Kipp wasn’t even supposed to be on the field. He was a strategist – he was supposed to send his and Esyllt’s orders up through the lines.

The lifeless body before her couldn’t be Kipp, because —

A gentle hand closed over her shoulder.

Somewhere close by, someone was crying.

Thea looked around to see who it was. She wanted to shake them. No one should be crying, because the body in front of them wasn’t Kipp —

She struggled to swallow the thick ache that pulsed in her throat as she was pulled up from the frozen ground into a strong pair of arms.

‘Thea,’ Wilder murmured into her hair. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s not real,’ she whispered against his breastplate. ‘It can’t be…’

‘I know,’ Wilder said, voice hoarse.

She blinked at her friend’s body, his blood staining the pristine snow.

‘You’re with Kipp,’ Esyllt had barked when she’d first joined the shieldbearers’ ranks. Young and fresh-faced, Kipp had been holding his sword incorrectly, his stance all over the place, his auburn hair flopping into his eyes… But he’d offered her a sheepish grin.

‘I’m Kipp. Kipp Snowden.’

Thea’s shoulders slumped, shaking with silent sobs, even as she fought to stifle them. Her chest ached, each inhale dragging in the weight of loss, each exhale layered with guilt.

Another image of her friend flashed before her: Kipp swaying as he took up a tankard with both hands and bumped it against hers and Cal’s. ‘May you walk amid the gardens of the afterlife a whole half hour, before Enovius reads your ledger of deeds.’

He had said that stupid toast so many times, and he always downed his entire drink, sloshing mead all down his front.

The tension in Thea’s limbs yielded to a bone-deep weariness, and she let Wilder’s arms envelop her as her frozen fingers rose to her cheeks. Tears had tracked down her face, carving rivulets in the grime there. She stared at the moisture on her fingertips as more of Kipp’s words came back to her.

‘It doesn’t matter who stands against you… What matters most is who stands with you.’