Fourth Wing (The Empyrean, #1)

by Rebecca Yarros

His eyes fly impossibly wide, and he drops his hands, clutching his own neck as his airway closes. My knees give way, my body still shuddering as I hit the mat, but so does Jack, heaving and clawing at his neck as his face turns purple. Ridoc’s face is in mine within seconds. “Breathe, Sorrengail. Just breathe.” “What the hell is wrong with him?” someone asks as Jack writhes. “Oranges,” I whisper to Ridoc as my body finally gives out. “He’s allergic to oranges.” I fall into nothingness. When I wake, I’m not on the mat, and I can tell by the windows of the Healer Quadrant infirmary that night has fallen. I’ve been out for hours. 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?”