Fourth Wing (The Empyrean, #1)

by Rebecca Yarros

Jeremiah turns, his gaze locking on Garrick. “Damn it all to hell. He’ll know about—” The shadows around Jeremiah’s feet snake up his legs in a heartbeat, winding around his chest until they cover his mouth in bands of black.

My bedroom door flies open, the wood splintering as it slams against the stone wall, but I don’t have a chance to turn to see who is standing there before a shriek pierces my vision.

“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...

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.

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.

“She should have killed you in the field, but she’s merciful. That’s not a flaw I possess.”

Bodhi has the same bronzed skin and strong brow line, but his features aren’t as angular as Xaden’s, and his eyes are a lighter shade of brown. He looks like a softer, more approachable version of his older cousin, but my body doesn’t heat at the sight of him the way it does around Xaden. Or maybe Oren just strangled the common sense out of me.

I’m alive. I’m alive. I’m alive.

“Yes. You’re alive.”

First sign of Xaden's second signet

“I should have killed him slower.”

“I’m fine.” I’m not. His focus snaps back to my eyes. “Never lie to me.” He says it with such ferocity, bit out through gritted teeth, that I can’t help but nod in promise.

SCREAMING

“It hurts,” I admit. “Let me see.” I open and shut my mouth twice. “Is that a request or a demand?” “Your pick as long as I get to see if that fucker broke your ribs.” His hands curl into fists.

I can’t help but notice they all have rebellion relics shimmering up their arms, but I keep the observation to myself. “Thank you,” Xaden says, then flicks his hand and my door shuts with a soft click. “Now, let me see your ribs. We’re wasting time.” I

“I know how to handle a corset.” His jaw flexes once, and something that reminds me of raw hunger flitters across his expression before he locks it down, drawing my hair over my shoulder with surprising gentleness.

he drops to his knees on the floor before me.

Then he robs me of every logical thought by putting on my boots and lacing them one at a time.

His fingers are strong as they curl around mine, his grip firm but not too tight.

“Do not dare to try and read me, human, or you’ll regret it.”

How did i miss this huge obvious clue

“I’m two! The hatchlings can’t even fly!”

“And I’m not sure anyone lets Andarna do anything.”

“She’ll be full-grown in a year or two, but some are slower than others,” Sgaeyl answers. “And if I thought she’d actually bond, I would have objected harder to her Right of Benefaction.”

“Think Ridoc finally got caught in Tyvon Varen’s bed?” “That’s hardly against the Codex,” Ridoc murmurs from behind us.

“He’s the executive officer for Second Wing.” I send a pointed look over my shoulder.

My scalp prickles, but I fight the urge to turn around. “Riorson just got here,”

Liam says from the seat to my right, breaking from the little dragon figurine he’s carving and looking up the rows toward the third-years.

it’s not like Liam here is sleeping in my bedroom.” “I mean, I’m not opposed—” he begins, his knife hovering over the piece of wood. “Don’t even start.” I whip my head to face him and can’t help but laugh. “You are a shameless flirt.”

He warded your door the morning after the attack.”

I fumble my quill and it falls to the ground, but before I can lean over, the shadows beneath the arm of my desk lift the instrument like an offering. I pluck it out of the shadows and look back at Xaden.

He’s locked in conversation with Garrick, not paying me a speck of attention. Except, apparently, he is.

The first rush of power is unmistakable. The first time it forms to you, surrounds you with a seemingly endless supply of energy, you’ll be addicted to the high, to the possibilities of all you can do with it, to the control you hold in the palm of your hand.But here’s the thing, that power can quickly turn and control you. —Page sixty-four, the Book of Brennan

Imogen calls from the next mat over, where she casually holds Ridoc in a headlock, waiting for him to tap out.

Xaden and Garrick have stripped off their shirts and are sparring like their lives depend on it, a blur of kicks, punches, and rippling muscle. I’ve never seen two people move that fast. It’s a beautiful, hypnotizing dance with lethal choreography that makes me hold my breath whenever Garrick goes in for the kill and Xaden deflects.

Every edge of Xaden’s body is honed like a weapon, all sharp lines and barely leashed power.

“We could just be watching for technique.” “Yeah. We absolutely could be.” But I’m not. I’m shamelessly wondering how his skin would feel under my fingertips, how my body would react to having every ounce of that intense focus on me. Heat races through my veins and stings my cheeks.

I manage one breath, then two as Jack’s gaze rises from me to someone standing behind me. That look on his face, half envy, half shitting himself, means it has to be Xaden.

“I am annoyingly aware of everything you do.”

Energy pours in—a deluge of raw, endless power—eroding everything I was and forging something completely new as it fills every pore, every organ, every bone. My head screams, and it feels like Tairn has flown too high too fast and I can’t pop my ears. All I can do is lie there on the floor and pray the pressure equalizes. I stare at my brush,

“Oh, I know. I am horrified to see Liam again.” “Liam? Why?” He pivots to face me, leaning against his shoulder. “Where the hell is your bodyguard?” “I’m my own bodyguard,” I counter, resting my cheek on the icy stone. “And he’s in bed.” “Your bed?” His voice is like a crack of lightning.

“I’ve been helping you for months.” His hand flexes at my waist, and I swear I can feel the warmth of his touch through my cloak and leathers. “No, you sent Liam to help. He’s been helping me for months.” My forehead puckers. “Weeks. Almost months. Whatever.” He has the nerve to look offended. “I’m the one who burst through your door and killed everyone who attacked you, and then I removed the other threat to your life with a very public, very polarizing display of vengeance. Liam didn’t do that. I did.”

“You’ve scared me nearly to death once or twice, so I think saying please is a fair request.”

“Not at all. Just one of the perks of not thinking too clearly. You have incredibly touchable skin.”

Hands flexing, he draws me forward a few inches before he suddenly lets go and retreats a full step. “Damn it. Touching you was a bad idea.” “The worst,” I agree, but my tongue skims my lower lip. He groans and my core melts at the sound. “Kissing you would be a cataclysmic mistake.” “Calamitous.” What would it take to hear that groan again?

“Fuck it.”

He’s just as needy as I am, and when he shifts his grip to my ass and picks me up, I wrap my legs around his waist and hold on like my life depends on this kiss never ending.

I surrender completely, melting into him, my body going pliant against his and losing that mental foothold he calls grounding. A flash of light burns behind my closed eyes, followed by the boom of thunder. Thunder-snow isn’t uncommon around here, but damn does it summarize how this feels, wild and out of control. But then he breaks the kiss with a sharp gasp, his brow furrowing with something akin to panic before he slams his eyes shut.

“You have to go.” His words are clipped and at odds with the heat in his eyes, his ragged breaths. “Why?” The cold is a shock to my system without his body heat. “Because I can’t.” He rakes both hands through his hair and leaves them on the top of his head. “And I refuse to act on desire that isn’t yours. So you have to walk back up those steps. Now.” I shake my head. “But I want—” Everything. “This isn’t your want.” He tilts his head up at the sky. “That’s the fucking problem. And I can’t leave you out here on your own, so have just a little mercy on me and go.”

“I finished this for you,” Liam says, handing me a figurine as we climb the wide spiral staircase to the third floor. It’s Tairn. He’s even mastered his snarl. “This is…incredible. Thank you.”

He reaches up to cup my cheek, and I hold his gaze, determined for him to understand he either starts valuing my choices or we are never going to fix our friendship.

Ridoc can wield ice, which might be a more common signet, but it’s impressive to see. Sawyer’s metallurgy powers grow every day. Liam can see a single tree miles away.