Fourth Wing (The Empyrean, #1)

by Rebecca Yarros

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

I will not die today.

“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.

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

“But I’m not going to assume that you’ll be able to remember that once we reach the field, so Tairn will do until I inevitably have to remind you.”

“You’re making us look bad. Stop it.”

“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.”

I’m a rider.

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

“The closest translation for humans is probably ‘for fuck’s sake.’

“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.”