Fourth Wing (The Empyrean, #1)

by Rebecca Yarros

A dragon without its rider is a tragedy. A rider without their dragon is dead. —Article One, Section One The Dragon Rider’s Codex

Blue dragons descend from the extraordinary Gormfaileas line. Known for their formidable size, they are the most ruthless, especially in the case of the rare Blue Daggertail, whose knifelike spikes at the tip of their tail can disembowel an enemy with one flick.

We’re moving to Fourth Wing. Xaden’s wing.

There’s a fucking smirk on Xaden’s arrogant, handsome face.

A dragon without its rider is a tragedy. A rider without their dragon is dead.

The sparring ring is where riders are made or broken. After all, no respectable dragon would choose a rider who cannot defend themselves, and no respectable cadet would allow such a threat to the wing to continue training.

“Run, Violet,” Dain orders me. “Now.” I bolt.

Something in her tone tells me it’s not just third-years who might be called into service this year, and a chill settles in my bones.

I hear it again—the macabre sound of snapping bone—but this time it’s mine.

Brennan wrote this for me the summer before I entered the quadrant. It saved me, and it can save you, too. I added my own bits of hard-earned wisdom here and there, but mostly it’s his, and I know he’d want you to have it. He’d want you to live.

I know how to survive.

hitches at the intensity in his voice. Damn it, I don’t want to find a single thing about Xaden Riorson admirable, and yet here he is, being all annoyingly admirable. Asshole.

You look all frail and breakable, but you’re really a violent little thing, aren’t you?” An appreciative smile curves his perfect lips

No wonder Xaden can wield shadows—shadows that can yank daggers out of trees, shadows that can probably throw those same daggers. And yet…he let me live. I shove the kernel of warmth that thought gives me far, far away.

“I taught both your siblings. A signet like mine is too useful here in the classroom to let me deploy with a wing for long. Brennan was a spectacular rider and a good man. Mira is shrewd and gifted in the seat when it comes to riding.” I nod. “But you’re smarter than both of them.”

It’s not often I get compared to my brother and sister and somehow come out on top.

There’s no ignoring the prickle at my scalp, and I let my gaze shift to meet Xaden’s.

My heart does that damn stuttering thing again, as if he’d sent shadows straight through my ribs to squeeze the organ. He lifts his scarred brow, and I swear there’s a hint of a smile on his lips as he leaves, walking over to observe the Fourth Wing cadets at the next mat.

handing them to Imogen. The bitter, illogical taste of jealousy fills my mouth, but there’s no time to examine that particular oddity, not when there’re only seconds before he’s in front of me again.

My chest heaves, still recovering from the way he’s knocked the wind out of me, and I take the offering. He tugs me to my feet, then twists my arm behind my back and yanks me against his hard chest, pinning our joined hands before I have a chance to get my balance.

“Taking out your enemy before the battle is really smart; I’ll give that to you,” he whispers, his warm breath brushing the shell of my ear.

Everything around us fades as my world narrows to the arrogant glint in his gaze. He’s all I can see, all I can feel.

Heat rushes up my neck and flames lick my cheeks as he lowers his face so his lips are only inches away from mine. I can make out every speck of gold in his onyx eyes, every bump and ridge of his scar. Beautiful. Fucking. Asshole. My breath catches and my body warms, the traitorous bitch.

Fire races along my skin at the feel of his fingers lacing with mine.

“So stop going for bigger moves that expose you.” He drags the tip of the dagger down his side. “A rib shot would have worked just fine.” Then he guides our hands around his back, making himself vulnerable. “Kidneys are a good fit from this angle, too.” I swallow, refusing to think of other things that are a good fit at this angle.

Xaden arches a brow as if to remind me that I’m the keeper of one of his secrets, too. Then he guides our hands back to my ribs and slides the ruby-hilted blade back into its sheath. The move is unnervingly…hot.

“Killing you wouldn’t be any trouble, Violence. It’s leaving you alive that seems to cause the majority of my trouble.” My gaze swings up to clash with his, but his face is unreadable, cloaked in shadow, go figure.

My stomach flutters as his thumb brushes my pulse and he releases my wrist.

“I would strongly recommend you rethink your actions,” a voice—his voice—demands from across the field to my right. My scalp prickles as each of our heads swivel in his direction. Xaden is leaning against the tree, his arms folded across his chest, and behind him, watching with narrowed golden eyes, her fangs exposed, is Sgaeyl, his terrifying navy-blue daggertail.

Xaden. For the first time, the sight of him fills my chest with hope. He won’t let this happen. He might hate me, but he’s a wingleader. He can’t just watch them kill a dragon.

Just as Tynan reaches up to two-hand his sword, preparing for a killing blow, I catch a glimpse of movement to my right. It’s Xaden. And rules be damned, he steps forward as though he intends to stop Tynan from killing me.

“You are the smartest of your year. The most cunning.”

“You defended the smallest with ferocity. And strength of courage is more important than physical strength. Since you apparently

“Stay close to the wingleader until we return,” Tairn orders. Surely he meant to say squad leader. “You heard what I said.” Or not.

He turns that stare on me, and I feel the impact all the way to my toes.

It was over in an instant. It was everything I’ve ever wanted…except… Shit. I don’t want it anymore.

“You can trust her,” Tairn says, and I startle, dropping the orange. “She hates me.” “Stop arguing with me and eat something.”

My gaze snaps to Xaden, and my chest tightens. So. Freaking. Beautiful. Apparently my body doesn’t care that he’s as dangerous as they come in the quadrant, because heat rushes through my veins, flushing my skin.

“And you know how much that ass annoys me.” “Annoys you?” Tairn chuckles above me, the sound like a chuffing cat. “Is that what you call it when your heart rate—”

“Let’s get one thing straight, Dain.” I take a step closer, but the distance between us only widens. “The reason we’ll never be anything more than friends isn’t because of your rules. It’s because you have no faith in me. Even now, when I’ve survived against all odds and bonded not just one dragon but two, you still think I won’t make it. So forgive me, but you’re about to be some of the bullshit that this place cuts away from me.” I move to the side and march past him through the tunnel, forcing air through my lungs.

Xaden fills the doorway like some kind of dark, avenging angel, the messenger of the queen of the gods. He’s fully dressed, his face a mask of veritable rage as shadows curl from the walls on either side of him, hanging in midair. For the first time since crossing the parapet, I’m so fucking relieved to see him that I could cry.

Xaden’s gaze snaps to mine, his onyx eyes flaring in shock for no longer than a millisecond before he strides forward, his shadows streaming before him as he stands at my side. He snaps his fingers and the room illuminates, mage lights hovering above us. “You’re all fucking dead.” His voice is eerily calm and all the scarier for it.

“I’m fine.” I’m not. His focus snaps back to my eyes. “Never lie to me.” He says it with such ferocity, bit out through gritted teeth, that I can’t help but nod in promise.

He wraps my cloak around my shoulders and buttons it at my collar like I’m something precious. Now I know I’m in shock because I’m anything but precious to Xaden Riorson. His gaze drifts over my hair and he blinks once before tugging my hood up over the fading dark-to-light mass. Then he grasps my hand and tugs me into the hallway. His fingers are strong as they curl around mine, his grip firm but not too tight.

Xaden’s grip tightens on my shoulders, his thumbs stroking in a soothing motion.

I fumble my quill and it falls to the ground, but before I can lean over, the shadows beneath the arm of my desk lift the instrument like an offering. I pluck it out of the shadows and look back at Xaden. He’s locked in conversation with Garrick, not paying me a speck of attention. Except, apparently, he is.

I am completely, utterly obsessed with Xaden.

Xaden studies me with an intensity that makes me sway toward him. “You are astonishing.”

“Fuck it.” One second he’s out of reach and the next his mouth is on mine, hot and insistent.

And that’s not Ridoc lounged in the chair next to my bed, glaring at me like he’d like to kill me himself. It’s Xaden. His hair is tousled, like he’s been tugging at it, and he’s flipping a dagger end over end, catching it by the tip without so much as looking at it before sheathing it at his side. “Oranges?”