Fourth Wing (The Empyrean, #1)

by Rebecca Yarros

Then he guides our hands back to my ribs and slides the ruby-hilted blade back into its sheath. The move is unnervingly…hot.

Don’t underestimate the challenge of the Gauntlet, Mira. It’s designed to test your balance, strength, and agility. The times don’t matter for shit, only that you make it to the top. Reach for the ropes when you have to. Coming in last is better than coming in dead.

“Knock it the fuck off,” Ridoc snaps, earning the entire squad’s attention.

True. Dain would more than take exception to Tynan’s assumptions and probably assign him cleanup duty for a month. Good thing he’s on the flight field this time of day. Xaden would just beat the shit out of him

Rhiannon gets the rope into Tynan’s hand, but instead of using it to swing to the next ball, he climbs…down. My jaw practically unhinges as he descends. Definitely didn’t see that one coming.

“Am I affecting your schedule, Violence?” There’s a definite smirk on those lips. “I just need to know what my chances are here.” My hands curl into fists. The ass has the nerve to smile. “That’s the oddest way I’ve ever been hit on—” “Not my chances with you, you conceited prick!” Fuck this. Fuck all of this. I move past him, but he catches my wrist, his grip light but his hold firm. His fingertips on my pulse make it skitter.

“Killing you wouldn’t be any trouble, Violence. It’s leaving you alive that seems to cause the majority of my trouble.”

A wicked smile curves Xaden’s perfect lips.

Shadows wrap around me, and I swear I feel a caress along the side of my wounded cheek.

“Maybe if you stopped sulking in your self-pity, you’d see that you have everything you need to scale the Gauntlet,”

“The right way isn’t the only way.

“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.”

“Hell yes!” Ridoc yells, hooting from the top. “That’s our girl!”

His eyes flare, and I don’t miss the hint of a smirk on that infuriatingly decadent mouth of his.

Xaden holds my gaze. “She has you, Amber.” “On a technicality!” “She still has you.” He turns slightly and delivers a look that I never want directed at me.

He turns slightly and delivers a look that I never want directed at me.

“Fuck that,” he says over his shoulder. “I need to figure out which one I’m going to approach during Threshing.” “Pretty sure this little walk is so they can decide,” I retort. “Hopefully one of them will decide you don’t get to make it to Threshing,” Rhiannon says, her voice quiet so it barely reaches me.

The one on the right sets its nose right at my breasts and chuffs again. What. The. Hell.

What. The. Hell.

“I think I just shat myself,” Ridoc says, and my laughter only pitches higher as we move through the field.

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

Its head pivots toward me, then tilts at an angle that makes my own neck hurt. “Yes!” I whisper loudly. “You! Goldie!” It blinks its golden eyes and swishes its tail. You have to be fucking kidding me. “Go! Run! Fly!” I shoo at it, then remember it’s a godsdamned dragon, capable of shredding me with its claws alone, and drop my hands.

It blinks its golden eyes and swishes its tail. You have to be fucking kidding me.

I shoo at it, then remember it’s a godsdamned dragon, capable of shredding me with its claw...

“If you can fly, now would be a good time,” I shout over my shoulder at the small dragon, drawing two daggers from the sheaths at my ribs. The dragon chuffs. So helpful.

The dragon chuffs. So helpful.

“I would strongly recommend you rethink your actions,” a voice—his voice—demands from across the field to my right. My scalp prickles as each of our heads swivel in his direction. Xaden is leaning against the tree, his arms folded across his chest, and behind him, watching with narrowed golden eyes, her fangs exposed, is Sgaeyl, his terrifying navy-blue daggertail.

“So I guess that’s a no on the flying?” I toss over my shoulder again, and the golden dragon chuffs low in its throat in response. “Great. Well, if you can back me up with those claws, I’d really appreciate it.” It chuffs twice, and I spare a glance down at its claws. Or should I say…paws. “Oh, fucking hell. You don’t have any claws?”

“Behind you!” Xaden shouts.

I pivot to see Oren’s sword held high, ready to separate my head from my shoulders, but the golden dragon snaps its jaw and Oren stumbles to the side with terror-filled eyes, as if he’s just now realized that it has teeth.

“You can’t interfere!” Tynan shouts at Xaden, but I don’t dare look away from my opponent long enough to see how the wingleader reacts. “No, but I can narrate,” Xaden retorts. He’s obviously on my side here, which confuses the hell out of me, since more than anything, I’m certain he wants me dead.

He’s obviously on my side here, which confuses the hell out of me, since more than anything, I’m certain he wants me dead.

“Step aside, Silver One,” a deep, gruff, definitely male voice orders. I blink. Wait. What? Did he just speak to me? “Yes. You. Move.”

The dragon’s giant nostrils flare. “You’re bleeding. Stop it.” My arm. “It’s not that simple when you’ve been run through with a—” I shake my head again. Am I seriously arguing with a dragon? This is so fucking surreal. “You know what? That’s a great idea.”

“Let’s go, Violet Sorrengail.” He lifts his head, and the golden dragon peeks out from under his wing. “How do you know my name?” I gawk up at him. “And to think, I’d almost forgotten just how loquacious humans are.” He sighs, the gust of his breath rattling the trees. “Get on my back.” Oh. Shit. He’s choosing…me. “Get on your back?” I repeat like a fucking parrot.

“One does not live a century without being well aware of the space one takes up. Now get on.” The golden one moves

So it can fly. That would have been nice to know twenty minutes ago.

A low, frustrated grumble sounds in his chest, and then he shocks me to the core as he stretches forward, his front leg becoming a ramp. Dragons never supplicate for anyone, and yet here he is, bowing to make it easier for me to climb on.

Dragons never supplicate for anyone, and yet here he is, bowing to make it easier for me to climb on.

Holy shit. I’m on the back of a dragon.

“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.”

“Now get in the seat and actually hold on this time, or no one is going to believe that I’ve actually chosen you,” he growls.

“There’s no need to shout. I can hear you just fine. The entire mountain can probably hear you.”

My eyes widen. I have…a dragon. And not just any dragon. I have Tairneanach.

“I’m just…not as strong as other riders.” “I know exactly who and what you are, Violet Sorrengail.”

He’s doing this. He’s holding me in place.

“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.”

“Why did you choose me?” I have to know, because as soon as we land, there are going to be questions. “Because you saved her.”

“But…” I shake my head. “Dragons value strength and cunning and…ferocity in their riders.” None of which defines me. “Please, do tell me more about what I should value.” Sarcasm drips from his tone as we pass over the Gauntlet and crest the narrow entrance to the training fields.