Fourth Wing (The Empyrean, #1)

by Rebecca Yarros

Garrick—sighs. “I’ll teach them.” I recognize him now. He’s the Flame Section leader in Fourth Wing. My direct superior above Dain.

Garrick counters, folding his arms over his wide chest. “Not her daughter. Punishing children for the sins of their parents is the Navarrian way, not the Tyrrish.”

“I command shadows, but sure, it was your perfume that gave you away.”

knife and steps away. I gasp. “Your signet is a shadow wielder?” No wonder he’s risen so high in rank. Shadow wielders are incredibly rare and highly coveted in battle, able to disorient entire drifts of gryphons, if not take them down, depending upon the signet’s strength.

“You missed.” He doesn’t even flinch. “Did I?” I reach for my last two blades. “Why don’t you back up a couple of steps and test that theory?”

“Fascinating. You look all frail and breakable, but you’re really a violent little thing, aren’t you?”

Violent little thing!!!!!

I hate how beautiful he is, how lethal his abilities make him as he strides toward me, shadows curling around his footsteps. He’s like one of those poisonous flowers I’ve read about from the Cygnis forests to the east. His allure is a warning not to get too close, and I am definitely too close.

“You were helping them. I don’t see why that should be punished.”

“We’ll see if you keep your word, and if you do, then unfortunately, it looks like I owe you a favor.”

Signets are the result of the unique chemistry between rider and dragon and usually say more about the rider than the dragon. The stronger the bond and the more powerful the dragon, the stronger the signet.”

“And not all strength is physical, Violet.”

I will not die today.

“Going for blood today, are we, Violence?” he whispers. Metal hits the mat again and he kicks it past my head and out of my reach. He’s not taking my daggers to use against me; he’s disarming me just to prove he can. My blood boils. “My name is Violet,” I seethe. “I think my version fits you better.” He releases my wrist and stands, offering me a hand. “We’re not done yet.”

He seizes my wrist and pins it above my head.

I can make out every speck of gold in his onyx eyes, every bump and ridge of his scar.

You are not attracted to toxic men, I remind myself, and yet, here I am, getting all attracted. I have been since the first second I saw him, if I feel like being honest.

“Oh, Violence, you’re good, but I’ve known better poison masters. The trick is to not make it quite so obvious.”

“Nope. Defenseless women have never been my type. We’re done for today.”

“It’s called the Gauntlet because this is the cliff that guards the Vale,”

Xaden would just beat the shit out of him.

Feathertail dragons are the breed we know the least about,

This is because feathertails reportedly abhor violence and are not suitable for bonding.

“Am I affecting your schedule, Violence?” There’s a definite smirk on those lips.

I move past him, but he catches my wrist, his grip light but his hold firm. His fingertips on my pulse make it skitter.

does he have to smell so good? Like mint and leather and something I can’t quite identify, something that borders between citrus and floral.

“The right way isn’t the only way. Figure it out.”

October first is always Threshing.

I will not die today.

“I would strongly recommend you rethink your actions,” a voice—his voice—demands from across the field to my right.

Xaden. For the first time, the sight of him fills my chest with hope. He won’t let this happen.

“Step aside, Silver One,” a deep, gruff, definitely male voice orders.

“Let’s go, Violet Sorrengail.”

“My name is Tairneanach, son of Murtcuideam and Fiaclanfuil, descended from the cunning Dubhmadinn line.”

“You’re making us look bad. Stop it.”

“Now get in the seat and actually hold on this time, or no one is going to believe that I’ve actually chosen you,” he

“I know exactly who and what you are, Violet Sorrengail.”

“You will not fall. I will not allow it.” The bands around my legs extend to my hands, and I feel the pulse of invisible energy. “You will trust me.”

“Why did you choose me?” I have to know, because as soon as we land, there are going to be questions. “Because you saved her.”

“You are the smartest of your year. The most cunning.” I gulp at the compliment, brushing it off. I was trained as a scribe, not a rider. “You defended the smallest with ferocity. And strength of courage is more important than physical strength. Since you apparently need to know before we land.”

“And Andarnaurram,” I whisper. Her eyes fly wide. “Both dragons?” she squawks. I nod. And all hell breaks loose.

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

“Look who rode in on the baddest motherfucker around!”

“They’re a mated pair, Tairn and Sgaeyl. The strongest bonded pair in centuries.”

“Did I see her outnumbered and already wounded? Did I think her bravery was as admirable as it was fucking reckless?” He turns that stare on me, and I feel the impact all the way to my toes. “And I would do it again.” I raise my chin. “Well-the-fuck-aware,” Xaden roars, losing his temper for the first time since I met him on Parapet.

“Each time a dragon chooses a rider, that bond is stronger than the last, which means that if you die, Violence, it sets off a chain of events that potentially ends with me dying, too.”

I’m tethered to Xaden Riorson.

I belong to Tairn and Andarna…and, in some really fucked-up way…Xaden.

Dain reaches me, his smile wide as he cups my face.

Stop

eyes. A back that has a glistening black relic of a dragon mid-flight stretching from shoulder to shoulder and, in the center, the silhouette of a shimmering golden one.

His thumb strokes over my cheek, his eyes searching for something, and then his mouth is on mine.

No