Page 108 - Fourth Wing

It takes two more rungs of branches before their words are clear. My

heart pounds like it’s trying to escape my ribs. I’m close enough for any one
of them to see if they look hard enough—well, everyone except Xaden,

since his back is turned toward me.

“Like it or not, we’re going to have to stick together if you want to
survive until graduation,” Imogen says. One little hop to the right and I

could repay that callous shoulder maneuver she pulled on me with a quick

kick to her head.
I just happen to value my own life more than I want revenge at the

moment, so I keep my feet to myself.

“And if they find out we’re meeting?” a first-year girl with an olive
complexion asks, her eyes darting around the circle.

“We’ve done this for two years and they’ve never found out,” Xaden
responds, folding his arms and leaning back against the limb below my

right. “They’re not going to unless one of you tells. And if you tell, I’ll

know.” The threat is obvious in his tone. “Like Garrick said, we’ve already
lost two first-years to their own negligence. There are only forty-one of us

in the Riders Quadrant, and we don’t want to lose any of you, but we will if
you don’t help yourselves. The odds are always stacked against us, and trust

me, every other Navarrian in the quadrant will look for reasons to call you a

traitor or force you to fail.”
There’s a muttered assent, and my breath hitches at the intensity in his

voice. 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.
Have to admit, it would be nice if a high-ranking rider from my province

gave a shit if the rest of us from the province lived or died.

“How many of you are getting your asses handed to you in hand-to-
hand?” Xaden asks.

Four hands shoot into the air, none of which belong to the spiky-blond-
haired first-year standing with his arms crossed, a head taller than most