Fourth Wing (The Empyrean, #1)

by Rebecca Yarros

“I think I just shat myself,” Ridoc says, and my laughter only pitches higher as we move through the field. “Honestly, I thought they were going to eat you,” Luca remarks. “Me too,” I admit. “I wouldn’t have blamed them,” she continues. “You’re insufferable,” Ridoc calls back. I focus on the path and keep walking. “What? She’s obviously our weakest link after Pryor, and I don’t blame them for snuffing him out,” she argues. “He could never make a decision, and no one wants someone like that as their rider—” A blast of heat singes my back and I halt. Don’t be Ridoc. Don’t be— “Guess the dragons think she’s insufferable, too,” Ridoc mutters.

They all lift their swords, and I draw a deep breath, readying myself to fight. This isn’t the mat. There are no instructors. No yielding. Nothing to stop them slaughtering me…slaughtering us. “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.

“She’s destroyed my shoulder!” Jack cries, stumbling to his feet and distracting the others. “I can’t move it!” He clutches the joint, and I grin. “That’s the thing about having weak joints,” I say, palming another blade. “You know exactly where to strike.”

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.

The dragon’s giant nostrils flare. “You’re bleeding. Stop it.”

A low, frustrated grumble sounds in his chest, and then he shocks me to the core as he stretches forward, his front leg becoming a ramp. Dragons never supplicate for anyone, and yet here he is, bowing to make it easier for me to climb on.

“My name is Tairneanach, son of Murtcuideam and Fiaclanfuil, descended from the cunning Dubhmadinn line.” He stands to his full height, bringing me eye level with the canopy of trees around the clearing, and I squeeze a little tighter with my thighs. “But I’m not going to assume that you’ll be able to remember that once we reach the field, so Tairn will do until I inevitably have to remind you.”

“You’re making us look bad. Stop it.” I’m clasped in Tairn’s claws. He’s actually…caught me instead of finding me unworthy and letting me fall to my death. “It’s not like it’s easy to stay on your back when you’re doing acrobatics!” I shout up. He glances down at me, and I swear the ridge above his eye arches. “Simple flight is hardly acrobatics.” “There is absolutely nothing simple about you!”

“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 growls. “I still can’t believe you’ve chosen me!”

“You’re going to have to strengthen your legs. Didn’t you practice?” Indignation ripples up my spine. “Of course I practiced!” “There’s no need to shout. I can hear you just fine. The entire mountain can probably hear you.” Was everyone’s dragon a curmudgeon? Or just mine?

“We’re going to have to put on a show.” “Awesome.” The idea is anything but. “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.” Not a question. An order. “Let’s get it over with.” I can’t move my legs, my fingers, my hands, so there’s nothing I can do but sit back and hope I enjoy whatever hell he’s about to put me through.

“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.” Tairn’s head inclines toward the golden as we approach, and she follows after us. Our speed slows. “But…” I shake my head. “Dragons value strength and cunning and…ferocity in their riders.” None of which defines me. “Please, do tell me more about what I should value.” Sarcasm drips from his tone as we pass over the Gauntlet and crest the narrow entrance to the training fields.

“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.”

The impact jars me slightly, but I sit up tall in the seat and even let go of the pommel ridges. “See, I can hang on just fine when you’re not moving.” Tairn tucks his wings up and looks over his shoulder at me with an expression that’s the closest thing to a dragon rolling his eyes that I’ve ever seen.

There’s a sound from the slopes that reminds me of muttering…if dragons mutter. “They do and they are. Ignore it.” Again, there’s no room for argument in his tone. “Thanks,” I whisper, then slide down on my butt like he’s a bumpy piece of lethal playground equipment, taking the brunt of the impact with my left leg when I hit the ground. “That’s one way to do it.”

The first step hurts like hell, but I pivot toward the golden one, who is tucked in tight next to Tairn, surveying me with bright eyes as she flicks her feathertail. “I’m glad you made it.” “Glad” isn’t even the right word. Thrilled, relieved, grateful. “But maybe you should fly off the next time someone suggests you save yourself, eh?” She blinks. “Maybe I was saving you.” Her voice is higher, sweeter in my mind.

“For the record, please tell me the name of the dragon who chose you.” I lift my chin. “Tairneanach.” “Pronunciation could use some work.” Tairn’s voice rumbles through my head. “Hey, at least I remembered,” I think back in his general direction, wondering if he’ll hear me across the field. “At least I didn’t let you fall to your death.” He sounds utterly bored, but he definitely heard me. The woman grins, shaking her head as she writes down his name. “I can’t believe he bonded. Violet, he’s a legend.” I open my mouth to agree— “Andarnaurram.” The sweet, high voice of the golden fills my mind. “Andarna for short.” I feel the blood rush from my face, and the edges of my vision sway as I pivot on my good ankle, staring back across the field at where the golden dragon—Andarna—now stands between Tairn’s front legs. “Excuse me?” “Violet, are you all right?” the redhead asks, and everyone around me, above me, leans in. “Tell her,” the golden insists. “Tairn. What am I supposed to—” I think at him. “Tell the roll-keeper her name,” Tairn echoes. “Violet?” the roll-keeper repeats. “Do you need a mender?” I turn back to the woman and clear my throat. “And Andarnaurram,” I whisper. Her eyes fly wide. “Both dragons?” she squawks. I nod. And all hell breaks loose.

“Tynan won’t be coming,” I whisper, guilt gnawing at my stomach. “That is not your kill to take credit for,” Tairn mentally growls.

“Hiding behind our instructors now, Sorrengail?” Jack’s uninjured fist curls. “I didn’t hide out there, and I’m not hiding here.” I raise my chin. “I’m not the one who ran.” “She doesn’t need to hide behind me when she’s bonded to the most powerful dragon of your year,” Professor Kaori warns Jack, whose eyes narrow on me. “Your orange is a good choice, Barlowe. Baide, right? He’s had four other riders before you.” Jack nods. Professor Kaori looks back over his shoulder at the line of dragons. “As aggressive as Baide might be, from the way Tairn’s looking at you, he’ll have no problem scorching your bones into the earth if you take another step toward his rider.”

“Is that…” “Codagh,” Tairn answers. General Melgren’s dragon. I make out the patchy holes in his battle-scarred wings as he comes closer, his golden gaze focused on Tairn in a way that makes me nauseous. He growls, low in his throat, turning those sinister eyes on me. Tairn rumbles his own growl, stepping forward so I’m between his massive claws. There’s zero doubt I’m the subject of both disgruntled snarls. “Yep! We’re talking about you!” Andarna says as the line passes by, and she joins. “Stay close to the wingleader until we return,” Tairn orders. Surely he meant to say squad leader. “You heard what I said.” Or not. I glance around and spot Xaden standing across the field, his arms crossed and legs spread as he stares at Tairn.

“Rhi!” I shout, spotting Rhiannon in the mob and limping her way. “Violet!” She crushes me into a hug, pulling away when I wince at the fresh pain in my arm. “What happened?” “Tynan’s sword.” I barely get the answer out of my mouth before I’m snatched off my feet by Ridoc, who spins me around, my feet flying out in front of me. “Look who rode in on the baddest motherfucker around!”

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

“Don’t you see what happened? What Xaden’s done?” His grip tightens. Thank gods for the dragon-scale armor, or I might have bruises tomorrow. “Please, do tell me what it is you think I’ve done.” A shape emerges from the shadows, and my pulse quickens as Xaden steps into the moonlight, darkness falling off him like a discarded veil.

“Did you step in?” Dain demands. “Did I what?” Xaden arches a dark brow and levels a look on Dain that would make a lesser person wither. “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. I pull in a quick breath, and Xaden does the same, as if he’s just as shocked by his outburst as I am. “Did I see her fight off three bigger cadets?” His glare pivots to Dain. “Because the answer to all of those is yes. But you’re asking the wrong question, Aetos. What you should be asking is if Sgaeyl saw it, too.” Dain swallows and looks away, obviously rethinking his position. “His mate told him,” I whisper. Sgaeyl called for Tairn. “She’s never been a fan of bullies,” Xaden says to me. “But don’t mistake it as an act of kindness toward you. She’s fond of the little dragon. Unfortunately, Tairn chose you all on his own.”

“And out of curiosity, would you have, let’s say, bent those rules to save your precious little Violet in that field?” His voice ices over as he studies Dain’s expression with rapt fascination. Xaden had taken a step. Right before Tairn landed, he’d moved…toward me.

“There is no us,” I say, dodging a rider as she races past. Dragons land left and right, the ground trembling with the force of the riot’s movement. I’ve never seen so many dragons at flight in the same moment. “Oh, I think you’ll find that’s no longer the case,” Xaden murmurs next to me, gripping my elbow and yanking me out of the path of another rider running from the other direction. Yesterday, he would have let me run headfirst into him. Hell, he might have even pushed me.

I belong to Tairn and Andarna…and, in some really fucked-up way…Xaden. My scalp prickles, and I glance across the field at him. As if sensing my gaze, he looks over and holds up a single finger. Target number one.

“Good morning, ladies.” Ridoc forces his way through the crowd and slings an arm around each of our shoulders as we enter the rotunda. “Or should I say, riders?”

What about yours, Rhi?” “Somewhere you’ll never see,” she responds. “You wound me.” He slaps his hand over his heart. “I highly doubt that,” she retorts, but there’s a smile on her face.

Xaden Riorson is now in the business of keeping his mortal enemy alive.

Honestly, if I had those teeth bared at me, I’d back away, too. “No you wouldn’t, because you didn’t. You stayed and defended Andarna.” His voice fills my head, and I can tell from his tone there are places he’d rather be. “Only because there was a lot going on at the moment,” I respond. “Andarna isn’t coming this morning?” “She has no need for flight lessons when she can’t bear you.” “Good point.” Though it would have been nice to see her. She’s quieter in my head, too, not as meddlesome as Tairn. “I heard that. Now pay attention.”

His hand is up, using common lesser magic to project his voice so we can all hear. God help us when Ridoc figures out how to do that.

Defeat just about swallows me whole. I’ve bonded the biggest—and certainly grumpiest—dragon in the quadrant, and yet he has to make accommodations for me. “They’re accommodations for me. I’ve seen your memories. I’m not about to have you sticking daggers into my leg to climb up. Now let’s go.”

There’s a disgusted roar of something I don’t understand in my head. “What the hell does that mean?” I scramble for the seat and get myself into position as he flies level. “The closest translation for humans is probably ‘for fuck’s sake.’

“I have to be able to do this by myself. We both need me to do this,” I argue. “Stubborn silver human,” Tairn mutters, following Kaori into a dive.

“I just need to strengthen my muscles to stay seated through maneuvers, and Tairn insists on making everything harder than what Kaori is doing.” “For your own good.” “Are you always around?” I snap back mentally. “Yes. Get used to it.” I fight the urge to growl at the intrusive, overbearing— “Still here.”

“You are sad?” Andarna asks, her voice soft. “Just visiting the Archives. No need to worry,” I tell her. “It’s hard to love a second home as much as the first.” I swallow. “It’s easy when the second home is the right one.”

If you don’t manifest a signet and let it out, then after a bunch of months, bad things happen.” We all gawk. “The magic consumes you,” Quinn adds, making the explosion sound again. “Relax, it’s not like a hard deadline or something. It’s just an average.” Imogen shrugs. “Fuck me, it’s always something around here,” Ridoc mutters. “Feeling a little luckier now,” Sawyer says, staring at his fork.

“You only fell about a dozen times that trip,” Tairn remarks as we land on the flight field. “I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or not.” I take deep breaths and try to calm my racing heart. “Take it as you wish.”

“And I could call you Violence like the wingleader.” “You wouldn’t dare.” I narrow my eyes as I move forward, checking where his chest begins to rise. “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—” “Don’t even start with me.”

Tairn’s golden eyes are narrowed in a glare on Dain, and his teeth are bared, dripping saliva as another growl rumbles. “You’re a menace. Stop it,” I say. “Tell him if he harms you, I’ll scorch the ground where he stands.” “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Tairn.” I roll my eyes and walk to Dain, whose jaw is locked, but his eyes are wide with apprehension. “Tell him, or I’ll take it up with Cath.” “Tairn says if you harm me, he’ll burn you,” I say as dragons to the left and right launch skyward without their riders, headed back to the Vale. But not Tairn. Nope, he’s still standing behind me like an overprotective dad. “I’m not going to harm you!” Dain snaps. “Word for word, Silver One.” I blow a breath out slowly. “Sorry, he actually said, if you harm me, he’ll scorch the ground where you stand.” I turn and look over my shoulder. “Better?” Tairn blinks.

“I’m hungry. I think I’ll partake in a flock of sheep.” He launches with great beats of his wings.

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.”

Ridoc stumbles backward on my left—shoved aside—and I don’t need to look to know whose muscled arm now brushes my shoulder. The scent of mint somehow steadies my heartbeat. Jeremiah unsheathes his shortsword. “Make it stop! Can’t any of you see? The thoughts won’t stop!” His panic is palpable, clogging my own throat. “Do something,” I beg Xaden, glancing up at him. His unwavering, lethal focus is on Jeremiah, but his body tenses at my plea, poised, ready to strike.

“Mine!” Andarna screams. Skin-prickling energy zings down my spine, then rushes to my fingertips and toes, and the next breath I take is in total, complete silence. “Go!” Andarna demands. I blink and realize the first-year in front of me doesn’t. She isn’t breathing. Isn’t moving. No one is. Everyone in this room is frozen in place…except me.

I stumble into the only open space in my room, but my path to the now-open door isn’t clear. 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.

Xaden prowls forward as though he has all the time in the world and holds out his palm as yet another tendril of darkness lifts my discarded dagger from the floor. “Let me explain.” Oren eyes the dagger, and his hands tremble. “I’ve heard everything I need to hear.” Xaden’s fingers curl around the hilt. “She should have killed you in the field, but she’s merciful. That’s not a flaw I possess.”

I’m alive. I’m alive. I’m alive. I repeat the mantra in my head as Xaden wipes the blood from my dagger on the back of Oren’s tunic. “Yes. You’re alive.” Xaden steps over Oren’s body and two others, retrieving my dagger from the fallen woman’s shoulder before reaching my armoire.

How did we not know??

“It’s dragon-scale.” I lift my right arm and pivot slightly so he can see the gaping hole in my nightdress. “Mira made it for me. It’s why I’ve lived this long.” He glances between our bodies, his mouth tensing before he nods once. “Ingenious, though I’d say there are multiple reasons for why you’ve made it this far.” Before I can argue that point, his gaze shifts to my throat and narrows at what I imagine has to be the purple imprint of a hand. “I should have killed him slower.” “I’m fine.” I’m not. His focus snaps back to my eyes. “Never lie to me.”