Fourth Wing (The Empyrean, #1)

by Rebecca Yarros

Liam and I are the only first-years ...

Tairn’s talons dig into the soil as Liam approaches, stretching his neck high above his shoulders. From the general agitation of the riot, I wonder if it’s something they all feel, this wrongness in the air that has the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

Tarin knows the gryphons are close

“Humans, even bonded ones, do not decide where dragons fly. Even one as young as Andarna knows her own mind.”

I’m a mess of anxiety and anticipation for what the War Games will bring. We were warned the quadrant always loses ten percent of the graduating class in the final test, but it’s more than that. I just can’t put my finger on it.

Liam grimaces. “It’s just that I know his priorities.”

“I’m really sorry you got dragged along on my account,” I say quietly so the others won’t hear. “You should be at one of the midland posts with Dain, not being hauled past the wards. Colonel Aetos is a fair man, but I have no doubt this assignment is meant to ‘give the marked wingleader his due.’” I finish the last in a fair imitation of Dain’s dad, and Liam rolls his eyes.

“I’m not scared, no one is hauling me, and believe it or not, Violet, sometimes my orders actually don’t revolve solely around you. I do have other skills, you know,” he teases with a grin, flashing a dimple as he hip-checks me. “I’ve never once forgotten how amazing you are, Liam.” And I ...

“Worrying about you is ninety-nine percent of what I do.”

“When we make it to the outpost, I want you to rest after we get our scenario objective. Liam will stay while I most likely take the third-years out to patrol.”

He wants her out of the way

My heart pounds so hard,

it sounds like wingbeats in my ears. Gods, I’ll never get enough of this.

Bc she hears gryphons approaching

“You’re mine, Violet.” I lift my chin. “Only if you’re mine.”

“I’ve been yours for longer than you could ever imagine.”

What does that mean

“Shit.” His eyes widen as he drags his gaze back to mine. “Violet, I’m so sorry—”

“Silly to hide what’s already been seen,” the woman says, her tone curt. “And if rumors are true, there’s only one silver-haired rider in your death factory of a college, which means that’s General Sorrengail’s youngest.” “Fuck,” Xaden swears. “I need you to stay calm, Violence.”

Calm? Shadows fall away, and I leave my hands loose at my sides in case I need to grab a dagger or wield, sidestepping Xaden so I can see. A pair of gryphon riders stands in the meadow about thirty feet away, their beasts eerily silent behind them.

“Holy shit, that one is huge,” the woman says. Around Xaden’s immovable arm,

“If you have ever trusted me, Violet, I need you to do it now.” The plea in his eyes leaves me stunned. Our enemies are feet away and he wants to…have a moment?

Then he passes me to Liam. Passes me. Like I’m a damned rucksack.

Liam pins my arms to my sides with careful but unyielding strength. “I’m sorry about this, Violet.”

“Let. Me. Go,” I demand as Xaden strides toward the pair of gryphon riders, Garrick at his side. Fear squeezes my heart like a vise that he thinks he can take on the gryphons and their riders himself. “I can’t do that,” Liam apologizes, his voice lowering. “I really wish I could.” Tairn roars from my right so hard that spit flies, smacking Liam in the face and making my ears ring. Liam drops his hands and backs away slowly, putting his palms up. “Got it. Point made. No touching.” Free from his grip, I spin toward the field as Xaden reaches the riders. “You’re fucking early,” he says. And my heart stops.

In his last days of interrogation, Fen Riorson lost touch with reality, railing against the kingdom of Navarre. He accused King Tauri, and all who came before him, of a conspiracy so vast, so unspeakable, that it does not bear repeating by this historian. The execution was swift and merciful for a madman who cost untold lives. —Navarre, an Unedited History by Colonel Lewis Markham

Markham the scribe knows about the venin

Betrayal cuts my throat like glass as I try to swallow. This is why he’s been sneaking off from the quadrant.

“I know where Draithus is,” Xaden retorts. “Never know, you Navarrians act like nothing exists beyond your borders,” the male gryphon rider snarks. “I don’t know

why we’re bothering to warn them.” “Warn us?” Xaden’s head cocks to the side. “We lost a village in the vicinity to a horde of venin two days ago. They decimated everything.”

She just said what? “Venin never come this far west,” Imogen says from my left. Venin. Yep, that’s what they both said. What the actual hell? I’d think someone was fucking with me if not for the two enormous gryphons ...

“Details or not, it looks like the horde is heading north,” the male says. “Straight toward our trading post on the border across from your garrison at Athebyne. Are you armed?” “We’re armed,” Xaden admits.

“Then our job here is done. You’ve been warned,”

“I wonder what your king would be willing to pay in order to get back the daughter of his most illustrious general. I’m willing to bet your ransom would be worth enough weaponry to defend all of Draithus for a decade.” Ransom? Oh, I think not. Tairn snarls. “Fuck,” Bodhi mutters, moving closer to me. “Try. I dare you.” I crook my fingers at them, releasing just enough power that light flashes within the clouds above us. Shadows race menacingly from the pine trees on the edge of the meadow as Xaden raises his hands at his sides, and both gryphon riders tense when the darkness pauses only inches from their feet. “You take a step toward that Sorrengail and you’ll be dead before you can even shift your weight,” Xaden says, his voice dropping lethally. “She’s not up for discussion.”

“We’ll be there with the rest of our drift. Just signal if you can get away from the disbelievers.”

I’m the outsider here. “Good luck, Riorson.”

“They all carry rebellion relics,” I tell him. “Everyone in this squad besides me is the child of a separatist.” In the chaos of the flight field, Xaden constructed an all-marked squad. And they’re all. Fucking. Traitors. And I fell for it. I fell for him. “Yes. They are,” he agrees, resignation in his tone.

“You and Andarna lied to me, too.” The treachery of it is too much, and my shoulders dip from the weight of it. “You knew what he was doing.” “We both chose you,” Andarna says, like that makes it any better.

“Dragons are bound by bonds,” he explains as Xaden approaches. “There is only one other bond more sacred than that of a dragon and its rider.”

A dragon and its mate.

“We are friends, Violet, but I owe him everything,” Liam answers, and when I glance up, he’s watching me with so much misery that I almost feel sorry for him. Almost. “We all do. And once you give him a chance to explain—” There it is. Anger rushes to my aid, overpowering the hurt. “You watched me train with him!” I shove at Liam’s chest, and he stumbles backward through the grass. “You stood by and watched me fall for him!”

“Violence, let me explain,” Xaden says.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Xaden says

Literally

sometimes you can start out on the right side of a war and end up on the wrong one?” “In this particular case? No.” I point toward the shore. “I was trained as a scribe, remember? All we’ve done is defend our borders for six hundred years. They’re the ones who won’t accept peace as a solution. What shipments have you been giving them?” “Weapons.” My stomach hits the ground. “That they use to kill dragon riders?” “No.” He shakes his head emphatically.

“These weapons are only to fight venin.”

My jaw unhinges. “Venin are the stuff of fables. Like the book my father—” I blink. The letter. What had he written? Folklore is passed from one generation to the next to teach us about our past. Was he trying to say… No. That’s impossible. “The...

“What was the fable again? One brother bonded to gryphon, one to dragon, and when the third grew jealous, he drew directly from the source, losing his soul and waging war on the other two.”

“Assuming you were ever going to tell me!” I glance to where Tairn watches, his head low as though he might have to incinerate Xaden at any moment. “Care to add to the discussion?” “Not yet. I’d prefer you come to your own conclusion. I chose you for your intelligence and courage, Silver One. Don’t let me down.”

“Fine. Were I to believe venin exist and roam the Continent wielding dark magic, then I’d also have to believe they never attack Navarre because…” My eyes widen at the possibility’s logical conclusion. “Because our wards make all non-dragon magic impossible.” “Yes.” He shifts his weight. “They’d be powerless the second they cross into Navarre.”

“Which means I would have to believe that we have no clue that Poromiel is being relentlessly, viciously attacked by dark wielders just beyond our borders.”

“Or you have to believe that we know and choose to do nothing about it.”

“Why the hell would we choose to do nothing about people being slaughtered? It goes against everything we stand for.” “Because the only thing that kills venin is the very thing powering our wards.”

“The material is forged into weapons to fight the venin. Here, take this.”

Lies are comforting. Truth is painful.”

I know you’ll make the right choice when the time comes.