Fourth Wing (The Empyrean, #1)

by Rebecca Yarros

Here’s to the artists. You hold the power to shape the world.

“I can carry it!” This is all wrong. I’m supposed to be dedicating my life to books, not throwing them in the corner to lighten my rucksack.

Decide, Violet. Are you going to die a scribe? Or live as a rider?”

“You’re the smartest woman I know. Don’t forget that. Your brain is your best weapon. Outsmart them, Violet. Do you hear me?”

Cross the parapet before the terror owns you.”

There will be another roll at the end of the parapet so the scribes have their beloved statistics for casualties. In another life, it would be me reading and recording the data for historical analysis.

Even worse, they probably think I’m a naturally gifted rider like Mira or a brilliant strategist like Brennan was. Or they’ll take one look at me, realize I’m nothing like the three of them, and declare open season.

There’s nothing more I can do to prepare for this.

Your mind already knows the answer, so just calm down and let it remember.

I need something to keep the logical side of my brain from turning around and walking straight back to the turret.

There’s a reason strength is revered among riders. A squad, a section, a wing is only as effective as its weakest link, and if that link breaks, it puts everyone in danger.

“Yeah. Shit.” I shrug, like it’s not my life we’re talking about here.

“Your instructors will teach you,” Panchek promises, his hand sweeping to the line of professors standing at the doors to the academic wing. “It’s up to you how well you learn.”

If they didn’t need us puny humans to develop signet abilities from bonding and weave the protective wards they power around Navarre, I’m pretty sure they’d eat us all and be done. But they like protecting the Vale—the valley behind Basgiath the dragons call home—from merciless gryphons and we like living, so here we are in the most unlikely of partnerships.

After the last twenty-four hours and one night in the first-floor barracks, I’m starting to realize that this quadrant is a strange mix of we-might-die-tomorrow hedonism and brutal efficiency in the name of the same reason.

“This place can warp almost everything about a person, Vi. It cuts away the bullshit and the niceties, revealing whoever you are at your core.

Fine. Hate me. Mom often says the minute you let emotion enter a fight, you’ve already lost.

They choose strength and shrewdness.” “They choose for reasons they don’t see fit to share with us.” He pushes off his desk. “And not all strength is physical, Violet.”

“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.”

My breath catches and my body warms, the traitorous bitch. 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.

“You’re tiny.” He says it like an insult. “Well aware.” My eyes narrow. “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.”

“Just because he’s a dick doesn’t mean you have to be.”

“Are you…studying?” Aurelie calls up from where she leaps onto the first ball below. “Calms me down,” I shoot back in quick explanation. There’s no time to be embarrassed here—that can wait for later.

What makes you a rider is what you do after people die. You want to know why you’re still alive? Because you’re the scale I currently judge myself against every night. Every day I let you live, I get to convince myself that there’s still a part of me that’s a decent person. So if you want to quit, then please, spare me the temptation and fucking quit. But if you want to do something, then do it.”

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

But most importantly, if I go, if I hide…I’ll never know if I’m good enough to make it here. And while I might not survive if I stay, I’m not sure I can live with myself if I leave.

“That’s different.” His hand squeezes mine, and I can feel the tension in his fingers, his arm. “I’m a rider.” “Well, maybe I am, too,” I whisper as light appears ahead. I didn’t believe it before, not when I couldn’t leave because my mother wouldn’t let me, but now I have a choice. And I choose to stay.

have a plan—a shitty one, but it’s worth a try.

“What changed between Parapet and now?” Dain asks again, a wealth of emotions in his eyes that I can’t begin to interpret. Well, except the fear. That doesn’t need any interpretation. “Me.”

“Can she do that?” someone snaps. I’m doing it now.

I block out all the pain, lock it behind a wall like I’ve done my entire life, and focus on the ramp as though my life depends on making it.

There’s no rope here. There’s only one way I’m getting over this. Sheer fucking will.

“The cheater clearly used foreign materials not once but twice,” Amber yells. “It’s not to be tolerated! We live by the rules or we die by them!” No wonder she and Dain are so close—they’re both in love with the Codex.

“The right way isn’t the only way.” I use his own words against him.

There’s a correlation between bonded cadets and level of chatter.”

“I think it’s impossible to know everything there is to know about someone.”

“With arrogance like that, I’m sure any dragon would feel lucky to share your mind for the rest of your life.” I pity whatever dragon—if any—chooses him.

Holy shit are we insignificant.

I will not die today.

“Dain lost his vote when he tried talking you into leaving,” she counters. There’s a lot of truth to that. I’ve only talked to him once in the past two days since Presentation, and he tried to get me to run within the first five minutes.

Stomach pitching, I have that Parapet feeling again—whatever I do next has overwhelming odds of ending my life. And yet, I’m still going to do it because this is wrong.

“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.”

Mom forced me into the Riders Quadrant. She didn’t care if I lived or died as I crossed the parapet. The only thing she cares about now is how my flaws might mar her sterling reputation or how my bonding might further her own agenda. And now she’s staring at my dragon without even bothering to look down and see if I’m all right. Fuck. Her. It’s everything I expected and yet still so disappointing.

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

Suddenly, my vision isn’t mine. I’m looking at my own back through…Andarna’s 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.

“How the mighty have fallen,”

“The morning after Threshing is always a clusterfuck. Power balance shifts, and you, little Sorrengail, are now about to be the most powerful rider in the quadrant. Anyone with common sense is going to be scared of you.”

There is nothing more sacred than the Archives. Even temples can be rebuilt, but books cannot be rewritten.

Her eyes widen. “Aren’t you constantly worried you’re going to—” She glances left and right, but there’s no one near enough to see us. “You know…die?” “Sure.” I nod. “But oddly enough, you kind of get used to that.”

“And the stuffy hoods?” Nasya lifts a brow at me. “Makes it harder for you to stand out against the tomes,” I explain. “A symbol that no one and nothing is more important than the documents and books in this very room.” My gaze darts around the chamber, and a new pang of homesickness hits me.