Fourth Wing (The Empyrean, #1)

by Rebecca Yarros

I don’t need the prohibited power of mind reading to know exactly what she sees.

Interesting

I’m too short. Too frail. What curves I do have should be muscle, and my traitorous body makes me embarrassingly vulnerable.

Surprise surprise. “La petite badass” I’m rolling my eyes

“Pale skin, pale eyes, pale hair.” Her gaze siphons every ounce of my confidence down to the marrow in my bones. “It’s like that fever stole all your coloring along with your strength.”

Pity pity

I will not watch one of my children enter the Scribe Quadrant, Violet.”

Soldier v poet type beat. I think we all sing, no actually

I grumble, knowing perfectly well that riders are the top of the social and military hierarchy. It helps that their bonded dragons roast people for fun.

This writing comes off a bit juvenile.

“She’s not strong enough, Mom! She’s already broken her arm this year, she sprains some joint every other week, and she’s not tall enough to mount any dragon big enough to keep her alive in a battle.”

This cannot be the book everybody is raving about. Just no way.

“Are you willing to die for it?” she asks, her eyes turning hard.

I think you’ll be too busy trying to survive to worry about entertaining yourself with books honey

“Ditch the books. Dad can’t save you. He tried. I tried. Decide, Violet. Are you going to die a scribe? Or live as a rider?”

There’s some gems in here yet

My tunic is replaced by a tight-fitting black shirt that covers my arms, and my breezy pants are exchanged for leather ones that hug every curve. Then she laces me into a vest-style corset over the shirt.

Rolling my eyessssss. La petite or curvy? Make up your mind author

“I happen to know a rider whose powers can make big things very small.” A devious smile plays across her lips. “And smaller things…much, much bigger.”

Freak?

I roll my eyes. Mira’s always been more vocal about her men than I have been…about all two of them.

Woah! I thought this was a classy party. But let’s hear more about these two men. Love me a good poly Circling back to this I’m realizing I misunderstood. This doesn’t seem to be a poly situation. Unfortunately

“Don’t mess around with second-years. If you want to get laid, and you should”—she lifts her brows—“often, considering you never know what the day brings, then screw around in your own year. Nothing is worse than cadets gossiping that you’ve slept your way to safety.” “So I’m free to take any of the first-years I want to bed,” I say with a little grin. “Just not the second- or third-years.” “Exactly.” She winks.

Love how sex seems to be very normalized. None of that purity bs

“Stay the hell away from Xaden Riorson.” The air rushes from my lungs. That name… “That Xaden Riorson,” she confirms, fear lacing her gaze. “He’s a third-year, and he will kill you the second he finds out who you are.” “His father was the Great Betrayer. He led the rebellion,” I say quietly. “What is Xaden doing here?” “All the children of the leaders were conscripted as punishment for their parents’ crimes,”

Great. Can’t wait to meet him

“I’m not dying,” Dylan says with way more confidence than I feel as he tugs a necklace from under his tunic to reveal a ring dangling from the chain. “She said it would be bad luck to propose before I left, so we’re waiting until graduation.” He kisses the ring and tucks the chain back under his collar. “The next three years are going to be long ones, but they’ll be worth it.”

Please don’t die like finnick

“You’re willing to trade a boot?”

Okay team player. I like that

The third turns in my direction and my heart simply…stops. He’s tall, with windblown black hair and dark brows. The line of his jaw is strong and covered by warm tawny skin and dark stubble, and when he folds his arms across his torso, the muscles in his chest and arms ripple, moving in a way that makes me swallow. And his eyes… His eyes are the shade of gold-flecked onyx. The contrast is startling, jaw-dropping even—everything about him is. His features are so harsh that they look carved, and yet they’re astonishingly perfect, like an artist worked a lifetime sculpting him, and at least a year of that was spent on his mouth. He’s the most exquisite man I’ve ever seen.

Homegirl is shockingly horny. I did not expect this lmao

“Ready for the next one, Riorson?” the rider with the ripped sleeves says. Xaden Riorson? “You ready for this, Sorrengail?” Rhiannon asks, moving forward.

Girlllllll why did you have to call her by her family name in front of him 😭

“Sorrengail?” He steps toward me, and I look up…and up. Good gods, I don’t even reach his collarbone. He’s massive. He has to be more than four inches over six feet tall.

Rolling my eyes. Why does the author keep emphasizing how itty bitty tiny tim Violet is. It’s cringe and it’s reminding me of Princess Nokia genius interview. YUCK

I feel exactly what Mira called me—fragile—but I nod once, and the shining onyx of his eyes transforms to cold, unadulterated hatred. I can almost taste the loathing wafting off him like a bitter cologne.

The whole “big bad wolf guy opposite of small defenseless girl” dynamic just doesn’t do it for me. Wrap this up

Xaden sucks in a deep breath, and the muscle in his jaw flexes once. Twice. “Your mother captured my father and oversaw his execution.” Wait. Like he has the only right to hatred here? Rage races through my veins. “Your father killed my older brother. Seems like we’re even.”

Beaucoup bad blood

A scream rends the air, and Rhiannon and I both jerk our attention to the parapet just in time to see Dylan slip.

Noooo Dylan!! Already?!

“Pull yourself up, Dylan!” Rhiannon shouts. “Oh gods!” My hand flies to cover my mouth, but he loses his grip on the water-slick stone and falls, disappearing from view. The wind and rain steal any sound his body might make in the valley below. They steal the sound of my muffled cry, too.

Gone too soon. No literally author why are you already killing our allies. SLOW DOWN

Zihnal, the god of luck.

Lore

Jack grabs the gangly boy by the straps of his overpacked rucksack, and I watch, shock locking my muscles, as Jack throws the scrawny candidate from the parapet like a sack of grain.

Somebody kill this nasty bitch. He’s gonna be a big problem

“You’re next, Sorrengail!” Jack bellows, and I jerk my gaze from the ravine to see him pointing at me, a sinister smile curving his mouth. Then he comes for me, his strides eating up the distance between us with horrifying speed.

Dude wtf is your problemmmmmmm. Leave her alone ahhhhhh 😭😭😭😭

“And before you ask, yes, I’m that Sorrengail.”

Okay corny

“What’s it going to be, Sorrengail?” the male rider asks. “You going to have Jack here start as a eunuch?” Shit. What is it going to be? I can’t kill him, not at this angle, and slicing off his balls is only going to make him hate me more, if possible.

I wish she was vicious and cold blooded. What’s there to think about girl. Slice his balls off and then plunge your dagger into his jugular. Simple

Jack steps down into the courtyard, his shoulder knocking mine as he walks by, pausing to lean in close. “You’re dead, Sorrengail, and I’m going to be the one to kill you.”

What’s the beef about? Hate her guts for what? So annoying

Where did this nausea come from? Why can’t I stop shaking? I’m going to fall any second now—there’s no way my body can remain upright with this earthquake in my legs or the whirring in my head.

You stressing me out tiny tim

“And a second-year rider, cadet,” he growls.

Not the growl god 😭 for what

“Are you hurt?” His gaze rakes over me with a desperate edge, like he needs to see every inch for himself.

We just might have a yearner on our hands

“I’m Dain Aetos, and I’m the leader for Second Squad, Flame Section, Second Wing.”

Okay hot shit

Go find the redhead with the roll—she’s usually carrying a crossbow—and tell her that Dain Aetos put both you and Violet Sorrengail into his squad. If she questions you, tell her she owes me from saving her ass at Threshing last year.

So unimaginative

“Go before someone sees us,” Dain barks.

Ew

“And you’re going to die if we don’t find you a way out of here.” He offers his arm. “Take it. We need to get you to my room. You need to wrap that knee.” His eyebrows rise. “Unless you found some miracle cure I don’t know about in the last year?” I shake my head and take his arm. “Damn it, Violet. Damn it.”

He’s annoying. The only time I enjoy him is when he’s yearning. So just don’t do anything else outside of that

“I can throw in a few oh, Dain cries once we’re in your room just for believability,” I offer, and actually mean it.

Okay slut (complimentary)

I arch my hips and shimmy my leather pants down past my thighs and over my knees. Shit. The one on the left is swollen. If anyone else had taken that stumble, they would have ended up with a bruise, maybe even a scrape. But me? I have to fix it so my kneecap stays where it’s supposed to. It’s not just my muscles that are weak. My ligaments that hold my joints together don’t work for shit, either.

How on earth is this feeble creature suppose to become a rider? This may be too far fetched for our tiny tim

“I’m what?” My hackles rise. “Go ahead and say it. When they sense I’m less than the others? Is that what you mean?” “Damn it.” He rakes his hand over his close-cropped light-brown curls.

Rolling my eyes. How elementary

“Melgren’s dragon gives him the signet ability to see a battle’s outcome before it happens. There’s no beating that, and you can’t be assassinated if you know it’s coming.”

That’s pretty cool, kinda op. I’m really curious about others signets now

“You feel invincible after the parapet, don’t you?” Xaden shouts. “You think you’re untouchable! You’re on the way to becoming the elite! The few! The chosen!” Another round of cheers goes up with each declaration, louder and louder.

Corny corny corny corny tomato tomato tomato tomato

There was something to be said for the emotional exhaustion of the day.

First day of school type beat

“I can read a person’s recent memories,” Dain admits quietly. “Not like an inntinnsic reads minds or anything—I have to put my hands on the person, so I’m not a security risk. But my signet’s not common knowledge. I think they’ll use me in intelligence.”

Mmm interesting.

“Look, Riorson is still a wingleader. He’ll be after you, but he’ll find a way to do it within the rules of the Codex, at least when people are watching. I was…” His cheeks flush. “Really good friends with Amber Mavis—the current wingleader for Third Wing—last year, and I’m telling you, the Codex is sacred to them. Now, you go first. I’ll see you in the sparring gym.” He smiles reassuringly.

Oh yall fucked huh?

“I expected you to do a better job of hiding where your affections lie, Aetos.” Xaden moves, walking down the steps. Shit. Shit. Shit. “Run, Violet,” Dain orders me. “Now.” I bolt.

The lack of regulation against unnecessary violence amongst quadrant members is ridiculous

It is not this general’s opinion that the children of the rebellion’s leaders should be forced to witness their parents’ executions. No child should watch their parent put to death. —The Tyrrish Rebellion, an official brief for King Tauri by General Lilith Sorrengail

There’s compassion in her yet

“It is a little high for a planned attack,” Devera says. “Why don’t you tell me why that’s bothersome, Cadet Sorrengail? And maybe you’d like to ask your own questions from here on out.” She levels a stare on me that has me squirming in my seat.

Clocked

The sickening crack of bones breaking sounds across the gym, and the first-year goes limp in Jack’s hold. “Sweet Malek,” I whisper as Jack drops the man to the ground.

How is he allowed to do shit line this ugh it’s so infuriating

“She yields,” Emetterio says. “That’s enough.” I hear it again—the macabre sound of snapping bone—but this time it’s mine.

I’m bouta be sick omg

It is my opinion that of all the signet powers riders provide, mending is the most precious, but we cannot allow ourselves to become complacent when in the company of such a signet. For menders are rare, and the wounded are not. —Major Frederick’s Modern Guide for Healers

This what tiny tim need

“You can’t ask him to mend her,” Dain protests as she uncorks the glass.

Hurry up and tell us why