Fourth Wing (The Empyrean, #1)

by Rebecca Yarros

A dragon without its rider is a tragedy. A rider without their dragon is dead.

He’s tall, with windblown black hair and dark brows. The line of his jaw is strong and covered by warm tawny skin and dark stubble, and when he folds his arms across his torso, the muscles in his chest and arms ripple, moving in a way that makes me swallow. And his eyes… His eyes are the shade of gold-flecked onyx. The contrast is startling, jaw-dropping even—everything about him is. His features are so harsh that they look carved, and yet they’re astonishingly perfect, like an artist worked a lifetime sculpting him, and at least a year of that was spent on his mouth.

Xaden sucks in a deep breath, and the muscle in his jaw flexes once. Twice. “Your mother captured my father and oversaw his execution.”

“I’m not supposed to be up here, obviously.” I tuck in a little closer. “Don’t worry—if someone sees us, I’ll just say that I was overcome with lust at first sight and couldn’t wait another second to get you out of your pants.” “Ever the smart-ass.” A wry smile tugs at his lips as we start down the hall.

If determination had a physical form, it would be Dain Aetos right now. “Do you think I want to watch my best friend die? Do you think it’ll be fun to see what they’ll do to you, knowing you’re General Sorrengail’s daughter? Putting on leathers doesn’t make you a rider, Vi. They’re going to tear you to shreds, and if they don’t, the dragons will. In the Riders Quadrant, you either graduate or die, and you know that. Let me save you.” His entire posture droops, and the plea in his eyes shreds some of my indignation. “Please let me save you.”

The sparring ring is where riders are made or broken. After all, no respectable dragon would choose a rider who cannot defend themselves, and no respectable cadet would allow such a threat to the wing to continue training.

“This place can warp almost everything about a person, Vi. It cuts away the bullshit and the niceties, revealing whoever you are at your core.

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

“Now, get back to bed before your wingleader realizes you’re out after curfew.” “What?” I gawk after him. “You’re my wingleader!”

“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.”

“You’d rather I die, no doubt,” I fire back, the side of my face pressed into the mat. This isn’t just painful, it’s humiliating. “And be denied the pleasure of your company?” he mocks.

Beautiful. Fucking. Asshole.

You are not attracted to toxic men, I remind myself,

“Not to me,” he whispers, a hand rising to cradle my cheek. “But they don’t know you the way I do, Vi. And while the first-years like Barlowe and Seifert are hunting you, we’ll have to watch. I’ll have to watch, Violet.” The break in his voice takes the anger right out of me. “We are not allowed to help you. To save you.”

“The right way isn’t the only way. Figure it out.”

He who does not burn for Malek will be burned by Malek.

“What changed between Parapet and now?” Dain asks again, a wealth of emotions in his eyes that I can’t begin to interpret. Well, except the fear. That doesn’t need any interpretation. “Me.”

“Guess the dragons think she’s insufferable, too,” Ridoc mutters.

There is nothing quite as humbling, or as awe-inspiring, as witnessing Threshing… for those who live through it anyway.

“Dain tried talking me into a brown.” “Dain lost his vote when he tried talking you into leaving,”

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.

“My name is Tairneanach, son of Murtcuideam and Fiaclanfuil, descended from the cunning Dubhmadinn line.”

“I’m sorry. I just didn’t think I’d make it this far.” A loud sigh resonates through my mind. “I didn’t think I would, either, so we have that in common.”

“You are the smartest of your year. The most cunning.” I gulp at the compliment, brushing it off. I was trained as a scribe, not a rider. “You defended the smallest with ferocity. And strength of courage is more important than physical strength. Since you apparently need to know before we land.”

There’s a sound from the slopes that reminds me of muttering…if dragons mutter. “They do and they are. Ignore it.”

“Stay close to the wingleader until we return,” Tairn orders. Surely he meant to say squad leader. “You heard what I said.” Or not.

“They’re a mated pair, Tairn and Sgaeyl. The strongest bonded pair in centuries.”

“And I would do it again.” I raise my chin. “Well-the-fuck-aware,”

“Sorrengail is the last person on the Continent I’d ever want to be chained to me. I didn’t do this.” Ouch. It takes all the willpower in my body not to reach for my chest and make sure he didn’t just rip my heart out from behind my ribs,

My heart hits the ground. I’ve always known deep down that Dain valued rule and order more than relationships, more than me, but to have it so cruelly displayed cuts deeper than Tynan’s sword.

It was over in an instant. It was everything I’ve ever wanted…except… Shit. I don’t want it anymore.

“They’re accommodations for me. I’ve seen your memories. I’m not about to have you sticking daggers into my leg to climb up. Now let’s go.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I scramble for the seat and get myself into position as he flies level. “The closest translation for humans is probably ‘for fuck’s sake.’ Now. Are you going to stay in your seat this time?”

“For your own good.” “Are you always around?” I snap back mentally. “Yes. Get used to it.” I fight the urge to growl at the intrusive, overbearing— “Still here.”

temples can be rebuilt, but books cannot be rewritten.

“It’s hard to love a second home as much as the first.”

“Let’s get one thing straight, Dain.” I take a step closer, but the distance between us only widens. “The reason we’ll never be anything more than friends isn’t because of your rules. It’s because you have no faith in me. Even now, when I’ve survived against all odds and bonded not just one dragon but two, you still think I won’t make it. So forgive me, but you’re about to be some of the bullshit that this place cuts away from me.”

power can quickly turn and control you.

“Stop objectifying our wingleader,” Liam teases. “Is that what we’re doing?” Rhiannon asks, not bothering to look away. My mouth waters at the muscled expanse of his back and that sculpted ass. “Yeah, I think that’s what we’re doing.”

“I am annoyingly aware of everything you do.”

“You choose the oddest times to defend her, Aetos.” Xaden all but rolls his eyes as he looks at Dain. “And the most convenient times not to.”

“Would you pretty, pretty please teach me how to shield before I accidentally climb you like a tree and we both wake up with regrets?”

Xaden studies me with an intensity that makes me sway toward him. “You are astonishing.” He shakes his head. “I couldn’t do that for weeks.”

“Not fair to use your powers on the mat.” Magical. Sexual. Whatever. It’s all unfair.

“Yeah? You should try a human one sometime. Just as vicious, but less fire.”

There’s no stopping the smile that spreads across my face. “Because we stole it from General Sorrengail’s office.” Absolute mayhem breaks out, some of the riders rushing the stage as professors battle their way toward us, but I ignore it all as Xaden tilts one corner of that beautiful mouth and tips an imaginary hat to me, bowing his head for a heartbeat before bringing his gaze back to hold mine. Satisfaction fills every ounce of my being as I smile up at him. It doesn’t matter how the vote comes down. I’ve already won.

There is no stronger bond than that between two mated dragons. It goes beyond the depth of human love or adoration to a primal, undeniable requirement for proximity. One cannot survive without the other.

“I was just remembering the guy I used to climb trees with, that’s all.” He startles like I’ve slapped him.

“You never considered that it was you I couldn’t stay away from?”

One of the riders down the table whistles low. “Do you boys just want to whip it out and measure? It would be faster.”