Page 121 - Fourth Wing

“I’ll be all right,” I assure him, but he moves in front of me, halting my

steps.
“I know you’ve been practicing with Rhiannon, but…” Worry lines his

forehead.

“I’ve got it,” I promise, looking into his eyes so he knows I mean it. “You
don’t have to worry about me.” Last night, Oren Seifert’s name was posted

next to mine right where Brennan said it would be. He’s a tall blond in First

Wing with tolerable knife skills but one hell of a punch.
“I always worry about you.” Dain’s hands curl into fists.

“Don’t.” I shake my head. “I can handle myself.”

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
My ribs squeeze my heart like a vise.

“Then don’t watch.” I take his calloused hand in mine. “You can’t save
me from this, Dain. I’m going to be challenged once a week just like every

other cadet. And it’s not going to stop there. You can’t protect me from

Threshing, or the Gauntlet, or Jack Barlowe—”
“You need to lay low with that one.” Dain grimaces. “Avoid that

pompous ass whenever you can, Vi. Don’t give him an excuse to come after
you. He’s already responsible for too many names on the death roll.”

“Then the dragons are going to love him.” They always go for the vicious

ones.
Dain squeezes my hand gently. “Just steer clear of him.”

I blink. The advice is so different from Xaden’s throw-a-few-daggers-at-

his-head approach.
Xaden. The knot of guilt that’s been lodged in my stomach since last

week grows a fraction bigger. By code, I should tell Dain about seeing

marked ones under the oak tree, but I won’t, not because I told Xaden that I
wouldn’t but because keeping the secret feels like the right thing to do.

I’ve never kept a secret from Dain in my life.
“Violet? Did you hear me?” Dain asks, lifting a hand to cradle my face.