Fourth Wing (The Empyrean, #1)

by Rebecca Yarros

shadow lunges

signet is a shadow wielder?”

“Fascinating. You look all frail and breakable, but you’re really a violent little thing, aren’t you?”

He looks at me like he’s trying to see through me, and ice prickles my scalp.

There is an art to poison not often discussed, and that is timing. Only a master can properly dose and administer for effective onset. One must take into account the mass of the individual as well as the method of delivery. —Effective Uses of Wild and Cultivated Herbs by Captain Lawrence Medina

Sgaeyl, the navy-blue dragon bonded to Xaden.

She is ruthless like Xaden

morningstartail.

a mix of a club tail with the power of a dagger tail.

black dragons?” “They’re the smartest and most discerning,”

Black dragons are the smartest like Violet

“They’re the rarest,” I add in. “There hasn’t been one born in the last…century.”

“Codagh, right?” “Yes.” Professor Kaori nods. “The eldest of their den and a swordtail.”

Codagh = war Pronunciation: "KOG-uh

Signets are the result of the unique chemistry between rider and dragon and usually say more about the rider than the dragon.

“Naolin’s signet was siphoning.”

“What kills someone with that kind of signet?” Jack asks, crossing his arms over his thick chest. Professor Kaori glances at me for a heartbeat before looking away. “He attempted to use that power to revive a fallen rider—which didn’t work, because there’s no signet capable of resurrection—and depleted himself in the process. To use a phrase you’ll become accustomed to after Threshing, he burned out and died next to that rider.”

prickle at my scalp, and I let my gaze shift to meet Xaden’s.

Connected

I

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

“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.”

“Taking out your enemy before the battle is really smart; I’ll give that to you,” he whispers, his warm breath brushing the shell of my ear.

“Problem is, if you aren’t testing yourself in here”—he scrapes the dagger down my neck, but there’s no warm trickle of blood, so I know he hasn’t cut me—“then you’re not going to get any better.”

“Oh, Violence, you’re good, but I’ve known better poison masters. The trick is to not make it quite so obvious.”

“She could use a little less protection and a little more instruction.” Xaden stares Dain down until he nods. Professor Emetterio

Colonel Markham

Markham about it anyway? He’s a scribe,

Don’t underestimate the challenge of the Gauntlet, Mira. It’s designed to test your balance, strength, and agility. The times don’t matter for shit, only that you make it to the top. Reach for the ropes when you have to. Coming in last is better than coming in dead. —Page forty-six, the Book of Brennan

Feathertail dragons are the breed we know the least about, I recite in my mind, needing every

This is because feathertails reportedly abhor violence and are not suitable for bonding.

“Green dragons,” I mutter under my breath, “known for their keen intellect, descend from the honorable Uaineloidsig line, and continue to be the most rational of dragonkind, making them the perfect siege weapons, especially in the case of clubtails.”

Orange dragons, coming in various shades of apricot to carrot, are the most—I throw myself to the next rail—unpredictable of dragonkind and therefore always a risk.

Descending from the Fhaicorain line—

Sitting back against the wall, I let the darkness conceal me as Xaden, Garrick, and Bodhi—Xaden’s cousin—pass under a mage light, headed in my direction. Three dragons. They were out…doing what?

“There has to be something more we can do,” Bodhi argues, looking to Xaden, his voice low as they pass by me, their boots crunching on the gravel. “We’re doing everything we can,” Garrick hisses. My scalp prickles and Xaden stops mid-step ten feet away, the set of his shoulders rigid. Shit.

He knows I’m here.

“Killing you wouldn’t be any trouble, Violence. It’s leaving you alive that seems to cause the majority of my trouble.”

Hope is a fickle, dangerous thing. It steals your focus and aims it toward the possibilities instead of keeping it where it belongs—on the probabilities.”

It is a grave offense against Malek to keep the belongings of a dead loved one. They belong in the beyond with the god of death and the departed. In the absence of a proper temple, any fire will do. He who does not burn for Malek will be burned by Malek. —Major Rorilee’s Guide to Appeasing the Gods, Second Edition

It’s Presentation Day, and in order to get to the flight field, we’ll have to climb the Gauntlet first. Everything about the Riders Quadrant is designed to weed out the weak, and today is no exception.

wonder what the circular patch on their upper right arm with water and floating spheres means.

the triangular patch to the left of that one, with the longsword, means they’re not to be messed with on the mat.

Treaty of Arif might just be the death of me.” She grins. “Ahh, the agreement between Navarre and Krovla for mutually shared airspace for both dragons and gryphons over a narrow strip of the Esben Mountains, between Sumerton and Draithus,”

What are the limits of Xaden’s power anyway? Could he use shadows to choke out every squad in here? Would he need to rest or recharge after? Does such a vast power come with any sort of checks or balances?

Amber Mavis, the strawberry-blond wingleader from Third Wing who was Dain’s close friend last year,

Presentation Day is unlike any other. The air is ripe with possibilities, and possibly the stench of sulfur from a dragon who has been offended. Never look a red in the eye. Never back down from a green. If you show trepidation to a brown…well, just don’t. —Colonel Kaori’s Field Guide to Dragonkind

The fastest up the Gauntlet was Liam Mairi,

dragons. Averaging twenty-five feet tall,

Garrick orders, his tone all business, which doesn’t surprise me given that his leadership style is more mission first, niceties last. Go figure he seems to be so close to Xaden.

“Talk to your nearby squadmates while you’re on the path, as it will help the dragons get a sense of who you are and how well you play with others.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the rope plan? Or the dagger?” Rhiannon asks, hurt pitching her tone. “You can trust me, you know.”

“You keeping any other secrets up there?” Rhiannon eventually asks. Guilt settles in my stomach when I think of Xaden and his meeting with the other marked ones. “I think it’s impossible to know everything there is to know about someone.”

Standing at the end of the line is a small golden dragon. Sunlight reflects off its scales and horns as it stands to its full height, flicking a feathered tail around the side of its body. The feathertail.

At its full height, it’s probably only a few feet taller than I am, like a perfect miniature of the brown next to it.