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‘What is it?’ Wilder sighed from where he was seated in a wooden chair, his elbows braced on his knees.

The young man fidgeted. ‘We found another body in the woods, Warsword Hawthorne.’

‘Then add it to the tally.’

‘We thought you should know the details about this one… It’s Sebastos Barlowe, sir. He was found dead not far from the latrines. It looks like he was mauled to death by monsters.’

Thea’s fingers froze in Dax’s coat.

‘Seb Barlowe?’ Wilder asked. ‘You’re sure?’

‘Yes, sir. He was wearing his uncle’s crest.’

‘And he was found by the latrines?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Very well,’ Wilder told the shieldbearer, his brow furrowed. ‘Add his name to the list of the dead, and Torj Elderbrock will see to it that his uncle is informed.’

‘Yes, sir.’ The young man sighed with relief, closing the tent flap behind him as he left.

‘What a tragedy,’ Thea said blandly. Wilder’s gaze flicked to hers and then to the dog at her feet.

‘Devastating,’ he agreed.

The battle had raged from dawn until after dusk, and the post-conflict efforts had them on their feet well into the early hours of the next day. Thea had barely had a moment to process it, and truth be told, she was still reeling from nearly losing Kipp. The sight of her friend lying lifeless and unblinking in the snow would haunt her forever.

Hours later, after checking on him in the infirmary, Thea and Wilder stumbled back to their tent, exhaustion settling deep in their bones. But when they reached it, finding that someone had generously lit a torch and a small fire within, with a cauldron of water warming over the coals, Thea knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep straight away.

Her fingers shook as she made to unlace her armour.

‘Let me,’ Wilder said, replacing her hands with his. Ever so gently, he started the task of undoing the straps and buckles, removing one piece at a time. ‘Do you want to tell me what happened with Seb?’ he asked quietly.

‘Not really.’ She released a shuddering breath, the grime coating her skin feeling even thicker, dirtier. ‘He threatened to rape me.’

Wilder’s hands stilled on one of her greaves.

Thea kept talking. ‘He hated me so much. It blinded him so completely that he truly couldn’t fathom that I’d become a Warsword, that I was better than him, that I – a woman – could kill him within seconds…’

‘And did you?’ His hands weren’t as steady as he removed the second greave.

‘Yes,’ she admitted, recalling how his windpipe had crushed so easily. ‘I snapped his neck. And then Dax was there. He came out of nowhere, tore Seb’s throat right out of his lifeless body.’

A moment passed and Wilder stood, gathering her in his arms. ‘I didn’t think the howlers and arachnes had doubled back around our camp.’

Thea sagged against him, ignoring the cold press of his armour and the blood that still covered them both. ‘They didn’t. It was me. And Dax.’

‘That piece of shit deserved to die a long time ago, Thea.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I only wish he was alive so I could kill him all over again with my bare hands.’

‘We made it count,’ Thea said hoarsely. ‘But I don’t want to tell anyone else – no one official, at least. If word got back to Seb’s uncle, whoever he is, I have no doubt he’d want mine and Dax’s heads on spikes.’

Wilder tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and then traced the line of her jaw, drawing her gaze up to his. ‘I wouldn’t let that happen, but if you want it to remain between us, it will.’

Thea covered his hand with hers. ‘Thank you.’

‘Are you alright?’

She hesitated. ‘I will be, once I get this filth off me.’