Page 136 - Fourth Wing

I will not die today.

—VIOLET SORRENGAIL’S PERSONAL ADDENDUM

TO THE BOOK OF BRENNAN

CHAPTER

NINE

I’m so completely screwed.
Xaden steps forward—all six-foot-everything of him—dressed in

midnight fighting leathers and a tight-fitted short-sleeve shirt that only

seems to make the shimmering, dark rebellion relics on his skin seem like
an even bigger warning, which I know is ridiculous but somehow true.

My heartbeat kicks up to a full gallop, as if my body knows the truth my
mind hasn’t quite accepted yet. I’m about to have my ass kicked…or worse.

“You are all in for a treat,” Professor Emetterio says, clapping his hands.

“Xaden’s one of the best fighters we have. Watch and learn.”
“Of course you are,” I mutter, my stomach twisting like I’m the one

who’s been snacking on walwyn fruit peels.
A corner of Xaden’s mouth rises in a smirk, and the gold flecks in his

eyes seem to dance. The sadistic ass is enjoying this.

My knees, ankles, and wrist are wrapped, the white cloth protecting my
healing thumb a startling contrast against my black leathers.

“A little out of her league, don’t you think?” Dain argues from the side of

the mat, tension radiating from every word.
“Relax, Aetos.” Xaden looks over my shoulder, his gaze hardening

toward where I know Dain is standing, where he always stands when I’m

on the mat. The look Xaden gives him makes me realize he’s been taking it
easy on me in the glaring department. “She’ll be in one piece when I’m