Fourth Wing (The Empyrean, #1)

by Rebecca Yarros

“The right way isn’t the only way. Figure it out.”

“The right way isn’t the only way.” I use his own words against him. 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. “You think like a scribe,” she barks at me. It’s intended as an insult, but I just nod. “I know.”

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

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

“You never considered that it was you I couldn’t stay away from?”

“I’m right here,” Xaden interrupts, rising to the same step to stand at my side. “In case you didn’t notice.” “You’re kind of hard to miss,” she retorts. “You’re not listening.” His voice lowers. “I. Am. Here. Tairn didn’t drag her back to Basgiath. He didn’t break through her shields and pour his emotions into her. He didn’t demand she fly across the fucking kingdom. Your sister is still right here. I’m the one who left my post, my position, and my executive officer in charge of my wing. She’s not missing out on shit.”

“I decide what’s allowed and what’s not,” Tairn growls, lowering his head to my level and blasting me with a chuff of steam. “There is no rule that says a dragon cannot modify their seat to serve their rider. You have worked just as hard—if not harder—than every rider in this quadrant. Just because your body is built differently than the others doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to keep your seat. It takes more than a few strips of leather and a pommel to define a rider.”

and theoretically, you should be able to change positions on long flights without unbuckling, since we built in a lap belt, too.” “Theoretically?” “He wasn’t amenable to me giving it a test flight.” “You can ride me when the flesh rots off my bones, wingleader.”

Moving toward Tairn’s foreleg, I have to laugh as he dips his shoulder for me. “What? No ladder?” “We thought about it and decided it would make you too vulnerable.” “Of course you thought about—”

I am the sky and the power of every storm that has ever been. I am infinite.

A scream rips from my throat just as lightning splits the sky with a terrifying crack of thunder. The bluish streak of silver death slams into the tower, and sparks flare as it explodes in a blast of stone. Tairn banks to avoid the blast, and I pivot in the saddle.

Tairn roars with the unmistakable sound of pride. “Lightning wielder.”

“When did I ever give you the impression that I give a fuck what people think?”

“Should I get the wingleader?” Tairn flat-out laughs in my head. “Shut up.”

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

“I can’t make you any promises, Violence. But I’m tired of fighting it.”