Fourth Wing (The Empyrean, #1)

by Rebecca Yarros

“Start channeling and maybe I’ll be able to,”

“You’re not ready to channel yet, Silver One.”

“Serves you right,”

“She got herself killed by breaking the Codex,”

“Stop defending and go on offense!”

“You held your own and controlled your temper,”

“She’s ready,”

“She’s ready,”

A

couple of hours later, I rip my brush through my hair in the privacy of my room, still fully dressed down to my boots and armor. I still can’t believe I made an ass of myself in front of my entire squad simply because Xaden decided to train shirtless. I really need to get laid. I pause mid-brushstroke when a rush of energy races down my spine,

dissipating in a heartbeat. Well, that’s…weird. Maybe it’s… No. It can’t be. It felt completely different when Andarna stopped time through me. That was a full-body flood that expanded through my fingers and toes, then…left afterward. Another wave ripples through me, stronger this time, and I drop the brush, clutching the edge of the dresser so I don’t fall as my knees threaten to buckle. The energy doesn’t dissipate this time; it sticks around, humming under my skin, ringing in my ears, overwhelming every sense. Something within me expands, somehow too big for my own body, too vast to be contained, and pain sears every nerve as I crack open, the sound reverberating through my skull like bones shattering. It’s as though I’ve been split at the very seams of the fabric of my being. My knees hit the floor, and I throw my hands over my temples, trying to shove everything I am back into my skull, forcing myself to shrink. 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 i...

against him like a cat in heat while demanding he appease this unimaginable ache. But he’s not who yo...

“Like…” He cocks his head to the side. “Like something’s going on. You don’t look like you feel—you know—like yourself.” Oh shit. It’s because I’m not myself. All of this, the need, the lust, the craving for the one person who I’m meant to be with…it’s Tairn. Tairn’s emotions aren’t just overwhelming me; they’re controlling me. “I’m good! Go to bed!”...

Then I start pacing, but that doesn’t stop the next blast of heat or the compulsion to— I have to get out of here before I make an epic mistak...

Grabbing my fur-lined cloak in one hand and pulling my hair up with the other, I swirl the fabric over my shoulders and fasten the clip beneath my throat. A second later, I peek out the door, and when I’m sure the coast is clear, I fucking flee. I make it to the entrance of the spiral steps—the ones that lead to the river—before I h...

Once the wave passes, I race down the steps, keeping one hand on the wall in case I’m pulled under again. The mage lights flicker on as I approach and fizzle out as I race by, as though this newfound power is already at work, stretching into the world. Away. I have to get away from everyone until Tairn finishes…whatever he and Sgaeyl are doing. I stumble out of the stairwell and emerge ...

kiss of snowflakes on skin that’s heated for all the wrong reasons. The air is crisp and chilled, and— My eyes pop open at the scent in the air and I whirl, my cloak whipping out behind me as I find the source of the sweet, easily identifiable smoke.

Violet channels her energy!

“He’s going to kill me.”

“He’s going to try.”

“Any advice?”

“Don’t let him.”

“Guard her like you’re me.”

“You mean like I’m six inches taller and built like a bull?” Ridoc gives him a thumbs-up. “Sure. I’ll do my best. In the meantime, you’d better run.”

“That whole I-die-Xaden-dies thing is really just a hypothesis, right?”

“One I’d rather not put to the test,”

“Go for the gullet,”

“I don’t have the energy to block you out right now, so I’m going to need you to be quiet for a few minutes here.”

“Offense. Now. Strike first,” Tairn snaps.

“Not helping!”

His sadistic grin and a red rim around his eyes are all I can see as he

forces more and more power into my body, but his hands are occupied and he’s too obsessed with his victory to hear that I’ve stopped screaming, to see that I’m moving.

“No.”

“Do not speak of it.”

“Or ever,” Dain’s dad chimes in. “We were actually hoping that you might ask your dragon to allow us to study her. For purely academic purposes, of course.” My stomach sours. The group of them would poke and prod Andarna for gods know how long to appease their academic curiosity, and they might stumble onto the untapped power of young dragons. No thank you. “Unfortunately, I don’t see her being comfortable with that. She’s pretty private, even with me.” “Pity,” Colonel Aetos says. “We’ve had the scribes on it since Threshing, and the only reference they can find in the Archives about the power of feathertails is hundreds of years old, which is funny because I remember your father doing a bit of research about the second Krovlan uprising, and he mentioned something about

feathertails, but we can’t seem to find that tome.” He scratches his forehead. Mom looks at me with expectation, as though to ask me without actually asking. “I don’t believe he finished his research on that particular historical event before he died, Colonel Aetos. I couldn’t even tell you where his notes are.” The words are as true as I can make them. I know exactly where his notes are—in the one location he spent the majority of his after-hours time. But there’s something about Tairn’s warning that makes me simply unable to tell them.

“And what was that about anyway? Saying that you resolved questions years ago?”

“We’re all flying today?” I ask, following as he walks toward the trio. “We’re all learning today. You need to learn how to stay on, and I need to learn why the hell it’s so hard for you,” he answers. “Andarna needs to learn how to keep up. Tairn needs to learn how to share his space in a tighter flight formation, and every other dragon but Sgaeyl is too scared to fly closer.” Tairn chuffs in agreement as we approach. “And what is Sgaeyl learning?” I ask, eyeing the giant blue dragon. Xaden grins. “She’s been leading for almost three years now. She’s going to have to learn how to follow. Or at least practice.” Tairn’s chuff sounds suspiciously like a laugh, and she snaps at him, baring her teeth and coming within inches of his neck. “Dragon relationships are absolutely incomprehensible,” I murmur. “Yeah? You should try a human one sometime. Just as vicious, but less fire.” He mounts with an ease I envy. “Now let’s go.”

Information.

“Sure could use Xaden right about now.”

“You’re doing great,”

General Sorrengail, The raids around Athebyne have spread the wing too thin. Being posted beyond the safety of the wards comes with considerable hazards, and though I am loath to request reinforcements, I must. If we do not reinforce the post, we may be forced to abandon it. We are protecting Navarrian citizens with life, limb, and wing, but I cannot adequately relay how dire the situation is here. I know you receive the dailies from our scribe attachment, but I would be remiss in my duties as executive officer of the Southern Wing if I did not write to you personally. Please find us

reinforcements. Sincerely, Major Kallista Neema

General Sorrengail, Protests regarding conscription laws are growing within the province of Tyrrendor. Knowing that due to Tyrrendor’s size, it provides the majority of our conscripts to replenish our front lines, we cannot afford to lose the support of the people again. Perhaps an influx of defensive spending on outposts here would not only bolster the province’s economy and remind the Tyrrish how needed they are to the defense of our kingdom, but also ease the unrest. Please consider this solution as an alternative to suppressing the unrest with force. Sincerely, Lieutenant Colonel Alyssa Travonte

Aretia.

Rhiannon inhales sharply, her gaze sweeping over the mountains. “You all right?” She nods. “Later.” Later arrives in exactly twelve sweat-soaked minutes as we’re shown to our double-occupancy barracks rooms. They’re sparse, only furnished with two beds, two wardrobes, and a single desk under a wide window. She’s quiet the entire time we make our way through the bathing chamber to wash off the ride and alarmingly silent while we dress in our summer leathers. It may only be April here at Montserrat, but it feels like Basgiath in June. “You going to tell me what’s up?” I ask, stowing my pack beneath the bed before making sure all my daggers are where they’re supposed to be. The hilts are barely visible in the sheaths I wear at my thighs, but I doubt many people this far east would recognize the Tyrrish symbols. Rhiannon’s hands tremble with what looks like nervous energy as she straps her sword to her back. “Do you know where we are?” I mentally bring up a map. “We’re about two hundred miles from the coast—” “My village is less than an hour away on foot.” Her eyes meet mine in an unspoken plea, so much emotion swirling in their dark-brown depths that my throat clogs, choking my words. Taking her hands in mine, I squeeze, nodding. I know exactly what she’s asking and exactly what it will cost if we’re caught.

“We’re on our way.”

“Don’t get caught,”

“Trying n...

“Cranston?” I think back over the Battle Briefs. “We never learned

about that one. I…” Common sense tells me to shut my mouth. “You what?” She takes another drink. “I think there’s way more going on along the borders than what we’re told,” I admit quietly.

The truth secretly coming out.