Fourth Wing (The Empyrean, #1)

by Rebecca Yarros

“Glad to see our year apart hasn’t dulled your tongue, Vi.” “Oh,” I toss over my shoulder as we walk into the hallway, “I can do quite a few things with my tongue. You’d be impressed.” My smile is so wide that it almost hurts, and just for a second, I forget that we’re in the Riders Quadrant or that I’ve just survived the parapet. His eyes heat. Guess he’s forgotten, too.

bang it out before the hate sets in. PLEASE! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

“I’m trying to keep you alive!” he shouts, his voice echoing off the stone of the stairwell. “If we get you to the Scribe Quadrant right now, you can still ace their test and have a phenomenal story to tell when you’re out drinking. I take you back out there”—he points to the doorway that leads to the courtyard—“it’s out of my hands. I can’t protect you here. Not fully.”

second read: here we go...

“We’ll find another way. For now, let’s go.”

second read: I'll give him a pass on this one, cause as far as anyone knows Violet hasn't chosen to be here and, doesn't WANT to be here.

“Three hundred and one of you have survived the parapet to become cadets today,” Commandant Panchek starts with a politician’s smile, gesturing to us. The guy has always talked with his hands. “Good job. Sixty-seven did not.”

“I’ve heard this position is just a stepping stone for him,” Tara whispers. “He wants Sorrengail’s job, then General Melgren’s.” The commanding general of all Navarre’s forces. Melgren’s beady eyes have always made me shrivel every time we’ve met during my mother’s career. “General Melgren’s?” Rhiannon whispers from my other side. “He’ll never get it,” I say quietly as the commandant welcomes us to the Riders Quadrant. “Melgren’s dragon gives him the signet ability to see a battle’s outcome before it happens. There’s no beating that, and you can’t be assassinated if you know it’s coming.”

Statistics say about a quarter of us will live to graduate, give or take a few on any year, and yet the Riders Quadrant is never short volunteers.

“Discipline falls to your units, and your wingleader is the last word. If I have to get involved…” A slow, sinister smile spreads across his face. “You don’t want me involved.

My best advice? Don’t die.”

inspiring 😂

“Three squads in each section and three sections in each of the four wings.”

Jack is called into the Flame Section of First Wing.

Tara is called into the Tail Section,

Rhiannon and I are both called to Second Squad, Flame Section, Second Wing.

uuuuuh...but the book of called FOURTH Wing...🤔

One of the riders with two stars on her uniform and half-shaved, half-pink hair has a rebellion relic that winds around her forearm, from her wrist to above her elbow, where it disappears under her uniform, but I look away so she won’t catch me staring.

Imogen

“Quiet,” Dain hisses. My spine stiffens. I can’t expect him to be my Dain here, not under these circumstances, but still, the tone is jarring.

mmmmm do it again. 🥴

Finally, the wingleaders turn around to face us, and the slight tilt to Xaden’s lips makes me instantly queasy. “Dain Aetos, you and your squad will switch with Aura Beinhaven’s,” Nyra orders.

ahhhh there it is...going to FOURTH Wing!

I’m now entirely at his mercy, a subordinate in his chain of command. He can punish me however he likes for the slightest infraction, even imaginary ones.

oooooooh noooooo!....😏

“Take a look at your squad. These are the only people guaranteed by Codex not to kill you. But just because they can’t end your life doesn’t mean others won’t. You want a dragon? Earn one.”

ah ok, cool you're squad is off limits! makes sense.

“And I bet you feel pretty badass right now, don’t you, first-years?” More cheers. “You feel invincible after the parapet, don’t you?” Xaden shouts. “You think you’re untouchable! You’re on the way to becoming the elite! The few! The chosen!”

well that's some baiting if I ever heard it hahaha... go ahead, knock em down a peck wingleader!

A few cadets scream. Guess everyone wants to be a dragon rider until they’re actually twenty feet away from one.

the navy-blue one directly in front of me exhales through its wide nostrils. Its glistening blue horns rise above its head in an elegant, lethal sweep, and its wings flare momentarily before tucking in, the tip of their top joint crowned by a single fierce talon. Their tails are just as fatal, but I can’t see them at this angle or even tell which breed of dragon each is without that clue.

There are three dragons in various shades of red, two shades of green—like Teine, Mira’s dragon—one brown like Mom’s, one orange, and the enormous navy one ahead of me. They’re all massive, overshadowing the structure of the citadel as they narrow their golden eyes at us in absolute judgment.

If they didn’t need us puny humans to develop signet abilities from bonding and weave the protective wards they power around Navarre, I’m pretty sure they’d eat us all and be done. But they like protecting the Vale—the valley behind Basgiath the dragons call home—from merciless gryphons and we like living, so here we are in the most unlikely of partnerships.

A dragon without its rider is a tragedy. A rider without their dragon is dead. Once bonded, riders can’t live without their dragons, but most dragons can live just fine after us. It’s why they choose carefully, so they’re not humiliated by picking a coward, not that a dragon would ever admit to making a mistake.

The red dragon on the left opens its vast mouth, revealing teeth as big as I am. That jaw could crush me if it wanted, like a grape. Fire erupts along its tongue, then shoots outward in a macabre blaze toward the fleeing cadet. He’s a pile of ash on the gravel before he can even make it to the shadow of the keep.

oh shit!

Make that seventy.

I will not run. I wouldn’t be standing here if I’d quit every time something seemed impossible to overcome. I will not die today.

This is inspirational 👏

“Anyone else feel like changing their mind?” Xaden shouts, scanning the remaining rows of cadets with the same shrewd gaze of the navy-blue dragon behind him. “No? Excellent. Roughly half of you will be dead by this time next summer.” The formation is silent except for a few untimely sobs from my left. “A third of you again the year after that, and the same your last year. No one cares who your mommy or daddy is here. Even King Tauri’s second son died during his Threshing. So tell me again: Do you feel invincible now that you’ve made it into the Riders Quadrant? Untouchable? Elite?” No one cheers.

nice one Xaddy lol put em right in thier place.

“Because you’re not untouchable or special to them.” Xaden points toward the navy dragon and leans forward slightly, like he’s letting us in on a secret as we lock eyes. “To them, you’re just the prey.”

gamey prey 😂

At least I have some time to get my feet under me before we’ll have to handle the Gauntlet—the terrifying vertical obstacle course they told us we’ll have to master when the leaves turn colors in two months. If we can complete the final Gauntlet, we’ll walk through the natural box canyon above it that leads to the flight field for Presentation, where this year’s dragons willing to bond will get their first look at the remaining cadets. Two days after that, Threshing will occur in the valley beneath the citadel.

Don’t borrow tomorrow’s trouble.

year to my left. “I’ll get them there.” The tall, wiry cadet whose light complexion is covered with a smattering of freckles answers with a tight nod. His freckled jaw ticks, and my chest pangs with sympathy. He’s one of the repeats—a cadet who didn’t bond during Threshing and now has to start the entire year over.

the smart-ass says as he passes us on the right, his dark-brown hair flopping against the brown skin of his forehead with every step the shorter cadet takes. His name is Ridoc,

Equally spaced around the rotunda, shimmering in their various colors of red, green, brown, orange, blue, and black, stand six daunting marble pillars carved into dragons, as if they’d come crashing down from the ceiling above. There’s enough room between the snarling mouths at the base of each to fit at least four squads in the center, but it’s empty right now.

you were the one birdcalling me.” I grin, shaking my head. He’s been using that signal since we were kids living near the Krovlan border while our parents were stationed there with the Southern Wing.

“No one tried to screw with you last night?” Concern creases his forehead, and I fold my arms to keep from smoothing the lines with my fingers. His worry sits on my chest like a stone. “Would it be so bad if they did?” I tease, forcing my smile to widen.

lol I love Violets flirtatiousness 😆 so refreshing after all the shy/ demur FMCs out there.

“You should cut it.” “Don’t start with me.” I shake my head. “There’s a reason women keep it short here, Vi. The second someone gets ahold of your hair in the sparring ring—” “My hair is the least of my concerns in the sparring ring,” I retort.

seriously if she just styles it right, it's really not that much of a concern!!! shorter hair can be gripped arguably easier than long hair that's been tide into a tight updo!

“Xaden Riorson wants you dead. It’s common knowledge among the leadership cadre after yesterday.” Nope. Not overreacting. “He moved the squad so he has a direct line to me. So he can do whatever he wants and no one will question a thing. I’m his revenge against my mother.” My heart doesn’t even jump at the confirmation of what I already knew. “That’s what I thought. I just needed to be sure my imagination wasn’t running away with me.”

I'd let him do what ever he wants....

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” Dain steps forward and cups my face, his thumb stroking over my cheekbone in a soothing motion.

Second read: so long as I don't have to break any rules to stop it that is XD

“The navy-blue one who landed behind the dais yesterday?” My stomach twists. The way those golden eyes assessed me… Dain nods. “Sgaeyl is a Blue Daggertail, and she’s…vicious.” He swallows. “Don’t get me wrong. Cath is a nasty piece of work when he gets riled—all Red Swordtails are—but even most dragons steer clear of Sgaeyl.”

I stare at Dain, at the scar that defines his jaw and the hard set of his eyes that are familiar and yet not.

His posture softens, and he lifts the short sleeve of his tunic, revealing the relic of a red dragon on his shoulder.

Cath channels a pretty significant amount of magic compared to some of the other dragons, but I’m nowhere near adept at it yet.

Second read: this leads me to believe that he will eventually either people able to get better at his signet, and use either to look further back than recent memories or perhaps not need to touch the person anymore.

Xaden’s uniform didn’t have any patches on it.

I feel like that's a choice to stay mysterious and not tip people off on his stregths/weaknesses.

“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. They want it that way. They want it to sever your previous bonds so your loyalty is to your wing.

I was…” His cheeks flush. “Really good friends with Amber Mavis—the current wingleader for Third Wing—last year, and I’m telling you, the Codex is sacred to them.

you was banging her...

“I already knew your parents are tight,” Xaden calls out, a cruel smile tilting his lips. “But do you two have to be so fucking obvious?” The few cadets who are still in the rotunda turn to look at us. “Let me guess,” Xaden continues, glancing between Dain and me. “Childhood friends? First loves, even?”

ooooo is that jealously I detect? 😏

“In the past, riders have seldom been called into service before graduation,”

“And how…often are they faltering?” Professor Markham’s shrewd eyes narrow on her. “That’s above your pay grade, cadet.”

fishy...

“What altitude is the village at?” Rhiannon asks. Professor Devera’s eyebrows rise as she turns to Rhiannon. “Markham?” “A little less than ten thousand feet,” he answers. “Why?” Rhiannon darts a dose of side-eye at me and clears her throat. “Just seems a little high for a planned attack with gryphons.” “Good job,” I whisper. “It is a little high for a planned attack,” Devera says. “Why don’t you tell me why that’s bothersome, Cadet Sorrengail? And maybe you’d like to ask your own questions from here on out.”

lol nothing gets passed her 😅

The sickening crack of bones breaking sounds across the gym, and the first-year goes limp in Jack’s hold. “Sweet Malek,” I whisper as Jack drops the man to the ground.

😬