Fourth Wing (The Empyrean, #1)

by Rebecca Yarros

Just because you survive Threshing doesn’t mean you’ll survive the ride to the flight field. Being chosen isn’t the only test, and if you can’t hold your seat, then you’ll fly straight into the ground. —Page fifty, the Book of Brennan

He’s one of the deadliest dragons in Navarre. Professor Kaori’s lesson. What else had he said? The only unbonded black dragon hadn’t agreed to bond this year. He hadn’t even been seen in the last five years. His rider died in the Tyrrish rebellion.

“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.”

Mom forced me into the Riders Quadrant. She didn’t care if I lived or died as I crossed the parapet. The only thing she cares about now is how my flaws might mar her sterling reputation or how my bonding might further her own agenda. And now she’s staring at my dragon without even bothering to look down and see if I’m all right. Fuck. Her. It’s everything I expected and yet still so disappointing.

I open my mouth to agree— “Andarnaurram.” The sweet, high voice of the golden fills my mind. “Andarna for short.”

“Tell her,” the golden insists. “Tairn. What am I supposed to—” I think at him. “Tell the roll-keeper her name,” Tairn echoes. “Violet?” the roll-keeper repeats. “Do you need a mender?” I turn back to the woman and clear my throat. “And Andarnaurram,” I whisper. Her eyes fly wide. “Both dragons?” she squawks. I nod. And all hell breaks loose.

Though this officer considers himself to be an expert on all matters dragonkind, there is a great deal we don’t know about the way dragons govern themselves. There is a clear hierarchy among the most powerful, and deference is paid to elders, but I have not been able to discern how it is they make laws for themselves or at what point a dragon decided to bond only one rider, rather than go for better odds with two. —Colonel Kaori’s Field Guide to Dragonkind

“She doesn’t need to hide behind me when she’s bonded to the most powerful dragon of your year,” Professor Kaori warns Jack, whose eyes narrow on me. “Your orange is a good choice, Barlowe. Baide, right? He’s had four other riders before you.” Jack nods. Professor Kaori looks back over his shoulder at the line of dragons. “As aggressive as Baide might be, from the way Tairn’s looking at you, he’ll have no problem scorching your bones into the earth if you take another step toward his rider.” Jack stares at me in disbelief. “You?” “Me.” The throbbing in my ankle is down to a manageable, dull ache, even standing on it. He shakes his head, and the look in his eyes transforms from shock, to envy, to fear as he pivots toward the professor. “I don’t know what she told you about what happened out there—”

“You would be the first. Not sure why they’re fighting about it, though. The decision won’t be up to them.” “It won’t?” Wind gusts as dozens of dragons land on the opposite side of the first-years, rows of mage lights hanging between them. “Nothing about who dragons choose is up to humans,” Kaori assures me. “We only like to maintain the illusion that we’re in control. Something tells me they’ve just been waiting for the others to make it back before they meet.”

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

“My thought exactly.” Xaden shakes his head at Dain. “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, which makes absolutely zero sense, since I feel the same way about him. He’s the son of the Great Betrayer. His father was directly responsible for Brennan’s death.

“The unbonded are going to try to kill you in hopes they’ll get Tairn to bond them.”

Suddenly, my vision isn’t mine. I’m looking at my own back through…Andarna’s eyes. A back that has a glistening black relic of a dragon mid-flight stretching from shoulder to shoulder and, in the center, the silhouette of a shimmering golden one. “It’s beautiful,” I whisper. I’m marked by their magic as a rider now, as their rider.

“You have to know how I feel about you.” His thumb strokes over my cheek, his eyes searching for something, and then his mouth is on mine. His lips are soft, but the kiss is firm, and delight races up my spine. After years, Dain is finally kissing me.

The thrill is gone in less than a heartbeat. There’s no heat. No energy. No sharp slice of lust. Disappointment sours the moment, but not for Dain. He’s all smiles as he pulls away. It was over in an instant. It was everything I’ve ever wanted…except… Shit. I don’t want it anymore.

My gaze snaps to Xaden, and my chest tightens. So. Freaking. Beautiful. Apparently my body doesn’t care that he’s as dangerous as they come in the quadrant, because heat rushes through my veins, flushing my skin.

Her eyes meet mine and narrow. “Rule number one. He’s Riorson to you, first-year, and you never get to question me about him. Ever.” “That’s two rules.” I’m starting to think my first guess about them is right. With that kind of fierce loyalty, they have to be lovers.

I am not jealous. Nope. That pit of ugliness spreading inside my chest isn’t jealousy. It can’t be.

No doubt they were written as a parable to warn us of the dangers of bonding dragons, but in Navarre’s six-hundred-year history of unification, I’ve never read of a single rider losing their soul to their powers. The dragons keep us from that.

Holy crap, Sawyer can manipulate metals.

Jeremiah’s signet power is manifesting. He can read minds—an inntinnsic.

In response to the Great War, dragons claimed the western lands and gryphons the central ones, abandoning the Barrens and the memory of General Daramor, who nearly destroyed the Continent with his army. Our allies sailed home and we began a period of peace and prosperity as the provinces of Navarre united for the first time behind the safety of our wards, under the protection of the first bonded riders. —Navarre, an Unedited History by Colonel Lewis Markham

He slashes forward so quickly that I barely catch the move, and Oren’s throat opens in a horizontal line, blood streaming down his neck and chest in a torrent.

“And if you even think about suggesting that you sleep with me for safety from now on—” He scoffs. “Hardly. I don’t fuck first-years—even when I was one—let alone…you.”

Accusing a wingleader of wrongdoing is the most dangerous of all accusations. If you’re right, then we’ve failed as a quadrant to select the best wingleaders. If you’re wrong, you’re dead. —My Time as a Cadet: A Memoir by General Augustine Melgren

Don’t freak out if you can’t immediately channel your dragon’s powers, Mira. Yeah, I know you have to be the best at everything, but this isn’t something you can control. They’ll channel when they feel you’re ready. And once they do, you’d better be ready to manifest a signet. Until then, you’re not ready. Don’t push it. —Page sixty-one, the Book of Brennan

I know you don’t want to hear this, but sometimes you have to know when to take the death blow, Mira. It’s why you have to be sure that Violet enters the Scribe Quadrant. She’ll never be able to take a life. —Page seventy, the Book of Brennan

I hate how unsettled everything feels between us, all wrongly sticky, like putting on clothes before you can dry after a bath, but it’s still Dain.

“Hmm.” Mom turns toward the citadel in clear dismissal. “Do see if you can master some kind of signet, Cadet Sorrengail. You have a legacy to live up to.” “Yes, General.” The informal words cost more than I’m prepared to admit, ripping into the confidence it’s taken me nearly eight months to build with talon-sharp precision.

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. —Colonel Kaori’s Field Guide to Dragonkind

“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 had Sgaeyl said about signets? It reflects who you are at the core of your being. It makes sense. Mira is protective. Dain has to know everything. And Xaden…has secrets.

“Figure out which pathway into your mind is his.”

There’s so much compassion, so much understanding in his eyes, that when he lets go of my waist, I think he might just let me stay. Then his hands are on my cheeks, sliding back to cup the base of my neck as he brings his mouth to mine. The kiss is reckless and consuming, and I give it my all, knowing it might be the last one. His tongue licks into my mouth with an urgency I return, angling to take him deeper.

“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?” “Don’t do that,” I whisper, and he lifts his head again to hold my gaze. “Don’t do what? Tell you I can’t get you out of my head? Or speak directly into yours?” “Either.”

“Fuck, that stubborn, feisty look always makes me want to kiss you.” Xaden’s expression remains bland, bored even, but his eyes heat as his gaze drops to my mouth. “And you say this now, where people will see if you actually do.” My breath catches. “When did I ever give you the impression that I give a fuck what people think about me?” A corner of his mouth rises, and now it’s all I can concentrate on, damn him. “I only care what they think about you.”

“I know. I know.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “And if you don’t want to use that kind of power again, you don’t have to—” “Get the fuck away from her with that nonsense.” Xaden pushes Dain’s chest and tugs me out of his arms, then grips my shoulders, turning me to face him. “You killed Barlowe.”

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

He’s working with them, aiding our enemy. Betrayal cuts my throat like glass as I try to swallow. This is why he’s been sneaking off from the quadrant.