Fourth Wing (The Empyrean, #1)

by Rebecca Yarros

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

She’s a rider through and through.

“I loved your father, but he’s dead,” Mom says, as if giving the weather report. “I doubt he wants much these days.”

“Are you calling me weak?” “No.” Mira squeezes my hand. “Just…fragile.”

Mom tolerates me and respects Mira, but she loved Brennan.

I look like a rider. I still feel like a scribe.

Pretentious, egotistical fucks.

Nothing is worse than cadets gossiping that you’ve slept your way to safety.”

The only relics I’ve ever heard of are when a dragon uses magic to mark the skin of their bonded rider.

the first rule of living at Basgiath is never question a dragon. They tend to cremate anyone they find rude.

I’ve heard that riders are allowed to marry sooner than the other quadrants,”

His eyes are the shade of gold-flecked onyx.

Flaming hot. Scorching hot. Gets-you-into-trouble-and-you-like-it level of hot.

“Your mother captured my father and oversaw his execution.” Wait. Like he has the only right to hatred here? Rage races through my veins. “Your father killed my older brother. Seems like we’re even.”

There’s a misconception that it’s kill or be killed in the Riders Quadrant. Riders, as a whole, aren’t out to assassinate other cadets…unless there’s a shortage of dragons that year or a cadet is a liability to their wing.

I send up a silent prayer to Zihnal, the god of luck.

Your mind already knows the answer, so just calm down and let it remember. That’s what Dad always told me.

Living to see the sunrise means I have to keep moving. Fear can’t rule my body.

Best to get to the other side, where the rest of the murderers wait.

A squad, a section, a wing is only as effective as its weakest link, and if that link breaks, it puts everyone in danger.

My ligaments that hold my joints together don’t work for shit, either.

In the Riders Quadrant, you either graduate or die, and you know that. Let me save you.”

Maybe I can do more than just survive.

I have exactly two shades when it comes to the sun, pale and burned.

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

“To them, you’re just the prey.”

“We commend their souls to Malek.” The god of death.

Don’t borrow tomorrow’s trouble.

My mother can wield the power of storms.

They want it to sever your previous bonds so your loyalty is to your wing.

The marble floor is gray, so it shouldn’t be that hard for the staff to get the blood out.

It is not this general’s opinion that the children of the rebellion’s leaders should be forced to witness their parents’ executions. No child should watch their parent put to death.

No chance of experiencing peace.

gryphons don’t tolerate altitude nearly as well as dragons, probably due to the fact that they’re half-lion, half-eagle and can’t handle the thinner air at higher altitudes.

The guys are mostly shirtless because they think shirts give their opponent something to grab onto. Personally, I’m not arguing with their logic, just enjoying the view…respectfully, of course,

A tooth goes flying and bile rises in my throat.

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

For menders are rare, and the wounded are not.

Here’s the secret—if you know where to look and can get out without being seen, you’ll know who you’re fighting so you can prepare.

My short-lived admiration of Xaden is over.

But I won’t let him end me without drawing his blood first, that’s for damn sure.

At least one of us is getting a few much-needed orgasms.

Ruthless does not begin to describe her, nor does she abide by what we assume to be what the dragons consider law.

Probably just to screw with you, a monster playing with his prey before pouncing.

“And not all strength is physical, Violet.”

“I’m going to be fine,” I recite, because that’s my fucking mantra.

“He needs to realize I’m not a liability.” And I’ll be harder to kill than he thinks.

I will not die today. —Violet Sorrengail’s personal addendum to the Book of Brennan

I’m about to have my ass kicked…or worse.

My heart beats faster than the wings of a hummingbird as I take a fighting stance and wait for him to strike.