Fourth Wing (The Empyrean, #1)

by Rebecca Yarros

“I knew you’d make the right choice,” Sgaeyl says, glancing toward where Xaden approaches with Liam, their footsteps dangerously close to the cliffside at my left. “He did, too. Even if he doesn’t like you putting yourself in danger, he knew you would.” “Well, he knows me a great deal better than I know him.” I lift a brow at her. She blinks. “You’re a far cry from the trembling girl who stood in the courtyard and tried to mask her fear after Parapet. I approve.” “I wasn’t asking for your approval.” If I’m going to die, I might as well be honest in my last moments. She chuffs and nudges Tairn’s head with hers, but he’s solely focused on the trading post.

I could have sworn I saw a riot of dragons across the border. Isn’t that what Mira said at Montserrat?

“Well, there went our air superiority,” Imogen says across from us, then shrugs. “Fuck ’em. They can die, too.” “They have created abominations,” Tairn says, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “Did you know?” “I suspected. Why do you think I’ve been so hard on you during flight maneuvers?” “You and I are going to have to work on our communication skills.”

“Where did the wyvern go?” I ask Tairn. “Retreated into the valley. Don’t worry—it will come back.” Oh. Joy.

“Thank you, Liam. Thank you for being my shadow. Thank you for being my friend.” He blurs in my vision as the tears come faster. “It’s been. My honor.” Liam’s chest rattles as his lungs struggle.

Xaden’s head bows, and my breath freezes in my lungs as shadows momentarily whip out around him, like a blast of menace and sorrow. Seconds later, his soundless, soul-rending scream fills my head with such force that my heart shatters like glass against a stone floor. I don’t need to ask. Liam is gone. Liam, who never complained about being my shadow, never hesitated to help, never bragged about being the best of our year. He died protecting me. Oh gods, and I just asked him if we’d ever really been friends an hour ago.

“There is no me without you,”

Tairn roars and Andarna shrieks. “Violet!” Xaden screams.

“Don’t ask that of me.” Even Xaden’s voice shakes.

“If you’ve ever trusted me, Xaden, I need you to do it now,”

“Tell me your plan isn’t to try and jump on the wyvern’s back?”

“This is the only way I can save them. I can save Sgaeyl. You just have to decide to live, Tairn. Even if I don’t.” “I will not watch another rider die because they do not know their own limitations. One more strike could be your last. I feel your waning strength.”

Xaden screams through the barrier in my mind, and the sounds of his anguish and fear are nearly more than I can bear.

Damn, sometimes I forget just how beautifully lethal he is.

Knowing they’ll all live, I let gravity claim my body and slide from Tairn’s back. “VIOLET!” I hear Xaden’s scream as I fall.

Andarna has stopped time with what strength she has left.

“There’s somewhere closer,”

BRENNAN

“I wouldn’t say that again,” Imogen mutters, “or he’ll probably eat you. And don’t forget, if she dies, there’s a damn good chance Xaden does, too.”

“When you have a hundred and seven scars on your back, then you get to make the fucking decisions, Ciaran,”

Tairn’s roar startles me, and I twitch, which only intensifies the already indescribable torture racking my body now. “What was that?” Garrick asks from somewhere to the left. “He basically said that he’ll cook me alive if I fail,”

“You have to fight, Vi,” Xaden whispers against my forehead as we move. “You can hate me all you want when you wake up. You can scream, hit, throw your fucking daggers at me for all I care, but you have to live. You can’t make me fall for you and then die. None of this is worth it without you.”

You’re all cowards. —The last words of Fen Riorson

“You should have told her about the venin. I waited for you to impart the information, and now she’s suffering,” Tairn growls. The dragon is the living, fire-breathing embodiment of my shame.

She can’t die because I know I can’t live without her even if I do. Somewhere between the shock of our attraction at the top of that turret to realizing she risked her own life by giving up a boot for someone else on the parapet that first day to her throwing those daggers at my head under the oak tree, I wavered. I should have realized the danger of getting too close the first time I put her on her back and showed her how easily she could kill me on the mat—a vulnerability I’ve allowed no one else—but I brushed it off as an undeniable attraction to a uniquely beautiful woman. When I watched her conquer the Gauntlet, then defend Andarna at Threshing, I stumbled, stunned by both her cunning and her sense of honor. When I burst into her room and found Oren’s treacherous hand at her throat, the rage that made it so easy to kill all six of them without batting an eye should have told me I was headed for a cliff. And when she smiled at me after mastering her shield in mere minutes, her face lighting up as the snow fell around us, I fucking fell. We hadn’t even kissed, and I fell.

I keep my shields up, trying to respect her privacy as I walk to her side, but gods, I need to know what she’s thinking.

“Kicking me out of my own room.” I reach for that sarcastic, teasing tone that used to be so easy when it came to her and back away. “New one.” “Now, Riorson.” I can’t keep from wincing. She never uses my last name. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t like to remember that I’m Fen Riorson’s son, and all my father cost her, but I’ve always been Xaden to her. The loss feels like a bottomless abyss, like a death blow.

“What?” “You smell like dragon ass.” “Fuck off.” I chance a whiff and can’t argue. “I’m using your room.” “I would consider it a personal favor.” I extend my middle finger and head toward his room.

I’ll spend every single day of my life earning back your trust.”