Fourth Wing

A dragon without its rider is a tragedy. A rider without their dragon is dead.

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

My breath catches and my body warms, the traitorous bitch. You are not attracted to toxic men, I remind myself, and yet, here I am, getting all attracted. I have been since the first second I saw him, if I feel like being honest.

“Nope. Defenseless women have never been my type. We’re done for today.”

This is what six months of intense physical training has given me—the ability to barely climb six flights of stairs with a thirty-pound pack.

Decide, Violet. Are you going to die a scribe? Or live as a rider?”

“I just remembered.” Her voice drops, and I lean in, my heart jumping at the urgency in her tone. “Stay the hell away from Xaden Riorson.”

“And the right to call yourself a supreme badass,”

And as for the death rate? I guess every other rider thinks the risk is worth the glory—or has the arrogance to think they won’t fall. I’m not in either camp.

“You’re General Sorrengail’s youngest.” His voice is deep and accusatory. “You’re Fen Riorson’s son,” I counter, the certainty of this revelation settling in my bones.

“Violet Sorrengail,” I answer as thunder cracks above me, the sound oddly comforting. I’ve always loved the nights where storms beat against the fortress window, both illuminating and throwing shadows over the books I curled up with, though this downpour might just cost me my life.

In through my nose, out through my mouth, I force my breathing to calm, my heart rate to slow from its gallop. If I panic, I’ll die. If I slip, I’ll die. If I… Oh, fuck it. There’s nothing more I can do to prepare for this.

“You will be tested by your superiors, hunted by your peers, and guided by your instincts. If you survive to Threshing, and if you are chosen, you will be riders.

You want a dragon? Earn one.”

But I will not run. I wouldn’t be standing here if I’d quit every time something seemed impossible to overcome.

Damn it, I don’t want to find a single thing about Xaden Riorson admirable, and yet here he is, being all annoyingly admirable. Asshole.

“I told you already, the youngest Sorrengail is mine, and I’ll handle her when the time is right.”

“What, Aetos hasn’t warned you not to get caught alone in the dark with me yet?”

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

Wait. What? “You’re not going to handle me?” I call after him, shock raising my brows. “Not tonight!” he tosses over his shoulder.

“And not all strength is physical, Violet.”

“I’m going to be fine,” I recite, because that’s my fucking mantra.

Who needs strength when you have speed and steel?

“You are all in for a treat,” Professor Emetterio says, clapping his hands. “Xaden’s one of the best fighters we have. Watch and learn.”
“Of course you are,” I mutter, my stomach twisting like I’m the one who’s been snacking on walwyn fruit peels.

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

“I fucking hate you.” The words are past my lips before I can shut my mouth. “That doesn’t make you special.”

“She can be taught.”
“She’s a quick learner,” I retort. “That remains to be seen.”

I lose my leverage and our bodies careen into a roll. He comes out on top. Of course he does.

Beautiful. Fucking. Asshole.

“What are you doing out after curfew, first-year?”
“Debating running away,” I retort. “How about you? Feel like sharing?” I ask mockingly, knowing he’s not about to answer me. “The same.”

Hope is a fickle, dangerous thing. It steals your focus and aims it toward the possibilities instead of keeping it where it belongs—on the probabilities.”

“Are you here to squash hopes and dreams, or do you have a suggestion?”

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.

“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.”

“Get on your back?” I repeat like a fucking parrot. “Have you seen you? Do you have any idea how huge you are?” I’d need a damned ladder to get up there. The look he gives me can only be described as annoyance. “One does not live a century without being well aware of the space one takes up. Now get on.”

He shouldn’t have to spend his energy on keeping his rider seated. “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.”

“We’re going to have to put on a show.”
“Awesome.” The idea is anything but.

“You will not fall. I will not allow it.” The bands around my legs extend to my hands, and I feel the pulse of invisible energy. “You will trust me.”

It’s the most horrifying and yet exhilarating moment of my life.

“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.”

How ironic. Tairn is the most celebrated dragon in the Vale, and I’m the most unlikely rider in the quadrant.

So much for privacy. “You’ll never be alone again.”
“That sounds more like a threat than a comfort,” I think.

It’s everything I expected and yet still so disappointing.

“Everyone who needs to know already knows.”

“You’re freakishly calm for someone who just heard she’s about to be hunted.”
“It’s a typical Wednesday for me.” I shrug, ignoring the way his gaze heats my skin. “And honestly, being hunted by forty-one people is a lot less intimidating than constantly watching dark corners for you.”

“Tell me it’s going to be all right,” I murmur toward Andarna and Tairn. “It is how it should be,” Tairn answers, his voice gruff and bored at the same time.

It was everything I’ve ever wanted…except… Shit. I don’t want it anymore.

Xaden Riorson is now in the business of keeping his mortal enemy alive.

“It’s hard to love a second home as much as the first.” I swallow. “It’s easy when the second home is the right one.”

And that is what the Riders Quadrant has become to me—the right home. The longing for the kind of peace and solitude I found only here can’t match the adrenaline rush of flight.