Fourth Wing (The Empyrean, #1)

by Rebecca Yarros

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

“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.”

I can make out every speck of gold in his onyx eyes, every bump and ridge of his scar. Beautiful. Fucking. Asshole.

“Here’s the thing, Sorrengail. 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.”

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

“You’re making us look bad. Stop it.”

“I know exactly who and what you are, Violet Sorrengail.”

“Dragons pay no heed to your puny gods.”

“It’s a good sign. Means your bond is strengthening. And honestly, I’m not sure why he’s giving you a hard time with maneuvers. It’s not like there’s any aerial threat out there besides gryphons, and we all know one breath of fire means those birds are goners. Tell him to ease up on you.” “Tell him to mind his own business.

Not that I wouldn’t climb the man like a tree if presented with the right set of circumstances.

Xaden. Even the most effective poisons come in pretty packages,

“Fuck it.” One second he’s out of reach and the next his mouth is on mine, hot and insistent.

“He’s going to kill me.” That’s all I can think as I dress for the morning, sheathing all of my daggers in the most advantageous places. “He’s going to try.” Tairn is up early. “Any advice?” I know Liam is waiting for us to make the library run before breakfast. “Don’t let him.”

I study the blade in his hand. It’s beautiful, with a solid black hilt engraved with Tyrrish knots, old, mythical runes of intricate swirls and ties. The blade itself is clearly honed to lethal perfection. “It’s spectacular.” “It’s yours.” My head snaps up, but there’s no lie in his onyx eyes. “I had it made for you.” His lips curve slightly.

“Three days?” Dain fires back, leaning in. “You couldn’t make it three days?” “It has nothing to do with him,” I interrupt, setting my dragon down with a little more force than necessary. “That’s up to Tairn and Sgaeyl.” “You never considered that it was you I couldn’t stay away from?”

“What changed?” Frustration tightens my grip on the mug. “When exactly did you decide not to ruin me?” “Maybe it was when I saw Oren holding a knife to your throat,” he says. “Or maybe it was when I realized the bruises on your neck were fingerprints and wanted to kill them all over again just so I could do it slowly. Maybe it was the first time I recklessly kissed you or when I realized I’m fucked because I can’t stop thinking about doing more than just kissing you.” My breath catches at his admission, but he just sighs, lets his head fall back against the wall. “Does it even matter when, as long as it changed between us?”

“You can ride me when the flesh rots off my bones, wingleader.”

“Bet it would be even more awkward if I kissed you now, huh?” Yes, please.

I am the sky and the power of every storm that has ever been. I am infinite.

Tairn roars with the unmistakable sound of pride. “Lightning wielder.”

“I’m proud you’re mine.” Andarna’s voice wavers, the blinks of her eyes becoming slower. “Even if I need a bath.”

“And both times were the result of emotional reactions?” Tairn snorts, and I smack his foreleg with the back of my hand. “Yes.” “Well, then start there. Ground in your power and try to feel whatever it was you were feeling.” He goes back to his notebook. “Should I get the wingleader?” Tairn flat-out laughs in my head.

There’s nowhere in existence you could go that I wouldn’t find you, Violence.”