Fourth Wing (The Empyrean, #1)

by Rebecca Yarros

“Don’t take this personally,” he says as we start to circle, both our hands raised. “But you’ll only be a hazard to your wing.”

“My sister is a healer. I’ve heard your bones snap like twigs.”

I should attack, but instead I wait. And then he charges, his blade held high in a striking position.

“Yield.” Who needs strength when you have speed and steel?

The knife is heavier and longer than my others, but it’s mine now, and I earned it. I sheathe it in an empty place at my left thigh.

“I’ll take being lucky over being good any day,” Rhiannon counters.

I almost broke down and went to see Nolon after that one, but I gritted my teeth and wrapped my ribs, determined not to give the others a reason to weed me out like Jack or any marked ones wanted.

I’ve taken down five opponents without killing any of them, something a quarter of our year can’t say after almost twenty more names have been added to the death roll the last month for the first-years alone.

My heartbeat kicks up to a full gallop, as if my body knows the truth my mind hasn’t quite accepted yet. I’m about to have my ass kicked…or worse.

My heart beats faster than the wings of a hummingbird as I take a fighting stance and wait for him to strike. This mat is only twenty feet in either direction, and yet my entire world narrows to its confines and the danger within.

He’s not in my squad. He can kill me without punishment.

“Going for blood today, are we, Violence?”

He’s not taking my daggers to use against me; he’s disarming me just to prove he can. My blood boils.

“I think my version fits you better.” He releases my wrist and stands, offering me a hand. “We’re not done yet.”

“Going for the throat is your best option, as long as it’s exposed.”

“Taking out your enemy before the battle is really smart; I’ll give that to you,” he whispers, his warm breath brushing the shell of my ear.

“You’d rather I die, no doubt,” I fire back, the side of my face pressed into the mat. This isn’t just painful, it’s humiliating. “And be denied the pleasure of your company?” he mocks.

“Oh, Violence, you’re good, but I’ve known better poison masters. The trick is to not make it quite so obvious.”

I nod, my fingers trembling as I rearm myself. He’s had every chance, and every reason, to kill me, and now he’s let me walk away twice. What kind of game is he playing?

“Aetos,” Xaden calls out from across the mat. Dain’s head snaps up and his jaw locks. “She could use a little less protection and a little more instruction.” Xaden stares Dain down until he nods.

“He told me he didn’t see a reason to kill me himself when the parapet would do it,” I answer truthfully. “And let’s face it, he’s had plenty of chances to take me out if he really wanted.”

“But then I bonded Cath, and I realized that dragons would do anything to protect the Vale and their sacred hatching grounds. There’s no way any dragon would have bonded Riorson or any of the separatists if they weren’t honest about protecting Navarre.”

“Yeah.” He grins. “Cath would know because he’s in my head. It’s impossible to hide something like that from your dragon.”

“Is he always in your head?” I know it’s against the rules to ask—almost everything about bonds are off-limits for discussion, given how secretive dragons are, but it’s Dain.

“Every cadet gets threatened.” “Every cadet doesn’t have to wrap their knees every day,” he fires back.

“You went behind my back because you think I’m not cutting it.” The truth of the words tightens around my chest like a vise, cutting off my air instead of holding me together, leaving me weak and breathless. Dain knows me better than anyone, and if he still thinks I can’t do this after I’ve made it this far…

“He’s my wingleader!” I shrug my tunic over my head. “He has the right to do whatever he wants—including execute me.”

“I’m not a damned liability.” My chest tightens again, because deep down I know, on the physical level, that I am.

“But they don’t know you the way I do, Vi. And while the first-years like Barlowe and Seifert are hunting you, we’ll have to watch. I’ll have to watch, Violet.” The break in his voice takes the anger right out of me. “We are not allowed to help you. To save you.”

“My dad—he was a rider until he retired last year—used to set up obstacle courses like this all the time so we could practice, and Chase, my brother, said it’s the best part of being here before Threshing. It’s a real adrenaline rush.”

There are no death courses in the Scribe Quadrant, that’s for certain.

“Luca, Tynan, shut up. They’re not sleeping together. They’ve been friends since they were kids, or do you not know enough about our own leadership to know his dad is her mom’s aide?”

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.

“From the balance you must keep on the back of your dragon, to the strength you’ll need to hold your seat during maneuvers, to”—he gestures upward, toward the last obstacle that looks like a ninety-degree ramp from this angle—“the stamina you’ll need to fight on the ground, then still be able to mount your dragon at a second’s notice.”

“After he makes it past the final obstacle, so everyone can learn from this cadet completing the course, the rest of you will start every sixty seconds. And…go!”

I start to feel a bubble of hope that maybe the course isn’t as difficult as it looks from the ground.

He might be a gullible ass, but he’s still my squadmate.

Gravel crunches beneath my boots as I move to the starting position. Oh, look, it is possible for my heart to beat faster. The damned thing practically flutters as I wipe my clammy palms

on my leather pants.

Be with me, Zihnal. I haven’t spent nearly enough time at temple for the god of luck to care much about what happens to me right now, but it’s worth a shot.

“The Scribe Quadrant is looking pretty good right now,” I grumble under my breath,

I’ve survived seven weeks in this damned quadrant, and this course isn’t going to beat me today.

“You clearly need to see the healers. You must have hit your head if you think this is fun.” My breaths are choppy gasps, but I can’t help but smile at her obvious joy.

just another tribute to Malek, the god of death.

It didn’t matter that I’ve been trained my entire life to enter the Scribe Quadrant; when General Sorrengail gives an order, you can’t exactly ignore it.”

If I’m going to run to the Scribe Quadrant, then tonight is the night. My heart clenches against the thought. It’s the logical choice. The safe choice.

But most importantly, if I go, if I hide…I’ll never know if I’m good enough to make it here. And while I might not survive if I stay, I’m not sure I can live with myself if I leave.

“He wants something I can’t give him.”

“I wouldn’t care if it was like that,” she replies under her breath. “He’s hot. He has that whole boy-next-door-who-can-still-kick-your-ass vibe going for him.”

“If the dragons think you’re a coward, you’ll be nothing but a name tomorrow.”