Page 139 - Fourth Wing

“I’m the one who decides when to grant that favor. Not you.” Xaden

releases my hand and steps back.
I whirl, punching for his throat, and he knocks my hand aside.

“Good,” he says with a smile, deflecting my next blow without so much

as a hitch to his breath. “Going for the throat is your best option, as long as
it’s exposed.”

Fury makes me kick out again in the same pattern, muscle memory taking

over, and he captures that leg again, this time snatching the dagger sheathed
there and dropping it to the mat before he lets me go, cocking a

disappointed eyebrow at me. “I expect you to learn from your mistakes.”

He kicks it away.
I only have five left, all sheathed at my ribs.

Gripping one and putting my hands up defensively, I begin to circle him,
and to my absolute annoyance, he doesn’t even bother facing me. He just

stands there in the center of the mat, his boots planted and his arms loose as

I move around him.
“You going to prance or are you going to strike?”

Fuck him.
I punch forward, but he dips and my knife sails over his shoulder, missing

him by six inches. My stomach drops as he grips my arm, yanking me

forward and flipping me around the side of his body. I’m airborne for a
heartbeat before I smack into the mat, my ribs taking the impact.

He cranks my arm into a submission hold and white-hot pain shoots

down the limb as I cry out, dropping the dagger, but he’s not done. No, his
knee is in my ribs and, though he holds my arm captive with one hand, the

other plucks a dagger from its sheath and flings it toward Dain’s feet before

taking another and holding it to the tender area where my jaw meets my
neck.

Then he leans closer. “Taking out your enemy before the battle is really
smart; I’ll give that to you,” he whispers, his warm breath brushing the shell