Page 118 - Fourth Wing

There is an art to poison not often discussed, and that is timing.

Only a master can properly dose and administer for effective onset.
One must take into account the mass of the individual as well as the
method of delivery.

—EFFECTIVE USES OF WILD AND CULTIVATED HERBS
BY CAPTAIN LAWRENCE MEDINA

CHAPTER

EIGHT

The women’s hall is quiet as I dress for the morning, the sun barely peeking

above the horizon in the far windows. I take the dragon-scale vest from

where I left it to dry on the hanger at the end of my bed and slip it on over
my short-sleeve black shirt. It’s a good thing I’ve gotten pretty adept at

tightening the laces behind my back, since Rhiannon isn’t in her bed.
At least one of us is getting a few much-needed orgasms. Pretty sure

there’s a person or two scattered with their partners among the full bunks in

here, too. The squad leaders talk a good game about enforcing curfew, but
no one really cares. Well, except Dain. He cares about every rule.

Dain. My chest tightens, and I smile as I finish braiding my hair into a

crown. Seeing him is the best part of my day, even the moments when he’s
anything but personable in public. Even in the moments where he’s

consumed with trying to save me from this place.

I grab my bag on the way out, passing by rows of empty beds that
belonged to the dozen women who haven’t survived to see August, and

shove open the door.
There he is.

Dain’s eyes light up as he pushes off the wall of the hallway where he’s