Fourth Wing (The Empyrean, #1)

by Rebecca Yarros

I look like a rider. I still feel like a scribe.

“She said it would be bad luck to propose before I left, so we’re waiting until graduation.”

“Fascinating. You look all frail and breakable, but you’re really a violent little thing, aren’t you?”

“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. He’s not taking my daggers to use against me; he’s disarming me just to prove he can. My blood boils. “My name is Violet,” I seethe. “I think my version fits you better.” He releases my wrist and stands, offering me a hand. “We’re not done yet.”

Beautiful. Fucking. Asshole.

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

“I didn’t think I would, either, so we have that in common.”

“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.”

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

“I had it made for you.” His lips curve slightly. “What?” My mouth opens, and my chest tightens. He took the time to have it made? Shit. That gives me feelings I really don’t want to have. Soft, confusing feelings.

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

“I’m proud you’re mine.” Andarna’s voice wavers, the blinks of her eyes becoming slower. “Even if I need a bath.”

“Well, then start there. Ground in your power and try to feel whatever it was you were feeling.” He goes back to his notebook. “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.”

But who takes responsibility—takes care—of him? Everyone across the ravine is celebrating his father’s death, and he’s out here mourning it alone. When Brennan died, I had Mira and Dad, but Xaden’s had no one.

“Here.” Xaden throws one of his flight jackets over me, trapping my hair.

Lies are comforting. Truth is painful.”

Their parents died to expose the truth while mine sacrificed my brother to keep this heinous secret.

“Go for the throat,” she says, walking into the abandoned outpost.

You can’t make me fall for you and then die. None of this is worth it without you.”