Page 97 of Shadow & Storms

‘I’ve never seen you there —’

‘Haven’t you?’

Wilder racked his brain for a memory of meeting Kipp long before he met Thea, for that was how many years it had been since he’d been to one of Marise’s infamous events. He came up with nothing.

‘What are we waiting for?’ he said instead. ‘Shall we start?’

‘Absolutely, my dear Warsword,’ Marise beamed.

Kipp removed the cork from the first bottle with a pop, filling several glasses and handing them out. The room had filled and, bar Dratos and Vernich, the main company of rebels gathered around.

Once everyone held a glass of a richly deep red wine, Kipp raised his in tribute. ‘Though the battle for Aveum was hard-won,’ he said, ‘we need to celebrate life —’

‘Your life, you mean,’ Cal muttered from the sidelines.

A few people chuckled, but kept their glasses raised, waiting.

With a fleeting scowl in Cal’s direction, Kipp cleared his throat. ‘Allow me to share a fitting toast to mark the occasion.’ He tilted his goblet towards the gathered crowd in salute. ‘May you walk amid the gardens of the afterlife —’

At the back, Talemir burst out laughing. Wilder met his gaze and chuckled as well. The Son of the Fox was something else.

There was a resounding echo of ‘Cheers’ all around the room, before Wren came forward. She looked fresh off the battlefield, still filthy from her time in the infirmary.

‘I would like to say something as well.’

The room quietened as she took Kipp’s drink from him and raised it again.

‘I would like to make a toast to celebrate the name day of my formidable sister.’

Wilder’s heart sank.

‘Thea’s name day is tomorrow, and Anya’s is just two months from now. My sisters and I… We have never been able to celebrate together, so I want to mark this as the first of these occasions we’ll have as a family —’

And it’ll be the last. Wilder’s chest ached at the thought. His hand dropped to his side and, finding Thea’s, he laced his fingers through hers. It wasn’t fucking fair. He hated this damper on what should have been a celebration. He hated that the past months had flown by so quickly, and that her next name day was an even crueller reminder of the fate that awaited her: a life stolen out from under her.

‘To Anya and Thea!’ Wren called, raising Kipp’s glass to her lips and drinking deeply.

‘You can’t commandeer my party,’ Kipp objected at her side, swiping an empty goblet and filling it generously.

‘Watch us, Fox Boy.’ Anya came forward and tapped her glass to his with a wicked grin. ‘Thanks, Wren,’ she added, knocking her hip against her sister’s.

Dread unfurled low in Wilder’s gut, his conversation with Thea the night before bleeding like a fresh wound in his mind. But when he turned to her, expecting to see anguish and sorrow, his love was smiling warmly.

Thea touched her goblet against his. ‘To experiencing the world at its fullest,’ she said.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

THEA

It was already the best name day celebration Thea had ever had. Her cheeks ached from laughing. Her drink nearly came out of her nose as she watched Kipp and Cal enthusiastically declaring that every wine they tasted from Marise’s selection was the best they’d ever had, their cheeks flushing redder by the second.

Spotting Wren at the bar, Thea made a beeline for her – only to be beaten by the golden-haired Bear Slayer, who approached her sister, looking oddly bashful.

‘I have something for you,’ he said quietly, sliding a small, linen-wrapped parcel across the bar.

Thea was close enough to hear, too close to back away without startling the pair and too curious to look away.

Wren tilted her head. ‘It’s not my name day…’

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