Page 122 - Fourth Wing

Jerking my gaze to his, I nod and repeat, “Steer clear of Barlowe.”

He drops his hand and shoves it into a pocket of his pants. “Hopefully
he’ll forget all about his little vendetta against you.”

“Do most men forget when a woman holds a knife to their balls?” I cock

an eyebrow at him.
“No.” He sighs. “You know, it’s not too late to sneak you down to the

scribes. Fitzgibbons will take you—”

The bells ring, marking quarter past five and saving me from another
session of Dain begging me to run away to the Scribe Quadrant.

“I’ll be all right. I’ll see you at formation.” I give his hand a squeeze, then

walk away, leaving him as I make my way to the kitchen. I’m always the
first here, and today is no exception.

I pocket the vial of dried, powdered fonilee berries from my satchel and
get started as the other workers come in, sleepy-eyed and grumbly. The

powder is nearly white, nearly invisible as I take my place in the serving

line an hour later, and completely undetectable as I sprinkle it over Oren
Seifert’s scrambled eggs when he approaches.

…

“Keep the temperaments of each specific breed in mind when you decide

which dragons to approach and which to run from at Threshing,” Professor
Kaori says, his serious, dark eyes slashing toward his nose as he studies the

new recruits for a beat, then he changes the projection he’s conjured from a
Green Daggertail to a Red Scorpiontail. He’s an illusionist and the only

professor in the quadrant with the signet ability to project what he sees in

his mind, which makes this class one of my favorites. He’s also the reason I
knew exactly what Oren Seifert looked like.

Do I feel guilty about blatantly misleading a professor about why I
needed to find another cadet? No. Do I think it’s cheating? Also no. I was

doing exactly what Mira suggested and using my brain.