Page 113 - Fourth Wing

and they slowly disperse, walking away in groups of threes just like he

ordered. Xaden is the last to leave.
I draw a slow breath. Holy shit, I just might live through this.

But I have to be sure they’re gone. I don’t move a muscle, even when my

thighs cramp and my fingers lock as I count to five hundred in my head,
breathing as evenly as possible to soften the beats of my galloping heart.

Only when I’m sure I’m alone, when the squirrels scurry past on the

ground, do I finish climbing from the tree, jumping the last four feet to the
grassy floor. Zihnal must have a soft spot for me, because I’m the luckiest

woman on the Continent—

A shadow lunges behind me and I open my mouth to scream, but my air
supply is cut off by an elbow around my neck as I’m yanked against a hard

chest.
“Scream and you die,” he whispers, and my stomach plummets as the

elbow is replaced by the sharp bite of a dagger at my throat.

I freeze. I’d recognize the rough pitch of Xaden’s voice anywhere.
“Fucking Sorrengail.” His hand yanks back the hood of my cloak.

“How did you know?” My tone is outright indignant, but whatever. If
he’s going to kill me, I’m not going down as some simpering little beggar.

“Let me guess, you could smell my perfume. Isn’t that what always gives

the heroine away in books?”
He scoffs. “I command shadows, but sure, it was your perfume that gave

you away.” He lowers the knife and steps away.

I gasp. “Your signet is a shadow wielder?” No wonder he’s risen so high
in rank. Shadow wielders are incredibly rare and highly coveted in battle,

able to disorient entire drifts of gryphons, if not take them down, depending

upon the signet’s strength.
“What, Aetos hasn’t warned you not to get caught alone in the dark with

me yet?”
His voice is like rough velvet along my skin, and I shiver, then draw my