Page 140 - Fourth Wing

of my ear.

Oh gods. He knows what I’ve been doing. The pain in my arm is nothing
compared to the nausea churning in my stomach at the thought of what he

might do with that knowledge.

“Problem is, if you aren’t testing yourself in here”—he scrapes the
dagger down my neck, but there’s no warm trickle of blood, so I know he

hasn’t cut me—“then you’re not going to get any better.”

“You’d rather I die, no doubt,” I fire back, the side of my face pressed
into the mat. This isn’t just painful, it’s humiliating.

“And be denied the pleasure of your company?” he mocks.

“I fucking hate you.” The words are past my lips before I can shut my
mouth.

“That doesn’t make you special.”
The pressure releases from my chest and arm as he gets on his feet,

kicking both daggers toward Dain.

Two more. I only have two more, and now my indignation and anger far
outweigh my fear.

Ignoring Xaden’s outstretched hand, I gain my feet and his lips curve into
an approving smile. “She can be taught.”

“She’s a quick learner,” I retort.

“That remains to be seen.” He backs up two steps, putting a little space
between us before crooking his fingers at me again.

“You’ve made your damn point,” I snap loud enough that I hear Imogen

gasp.
“Trust me, I’ve barely gotten started.” He folds his arms and leans back

on his heels, clearly waiting for me to move.

I don’t think. I just act, going low and kicking out the backs of his knees.
He goes down like a tree, the sound more than satisfying, and I pounce,

trying for a headlock. Doesn’t matter how big someone is—they still need
air. Catching his throat in the crook of my elbow, I squeeze.