Page 147 - Fourth Wing

year!”

“Do you know what happens at Threshing?” he asks, his tone dropping.
“Are you calling me ignorant?” Rage bubbles in my veins.

“It’s not just about bonding,” he continues. “They throw every first-year

into the training grounds, the ones you’ve never been to, and then the
second- and third-years are supposed to watch as you decide which dragons

to approach and which to run from.”

“I know how it works.” My jaw clenches.
“Yeah, well, while the riders are watching, the first-years are taking out

their vendettas and eliminating any…liabilities to the wing.”

“I’m not a damned liability.” My chest tightens again, because deep down
I know, on the physical level, that I am.

“Not to me,” he whispers, a hand rising to cradle my cheek. “But they
don’t know you the way I do, Vi. And while the first-years like Barlowe and

Seifert are hunting you, we’ll have to watch. I’ll have to watch, Violet.” The

break in his voice takes the anger right out of me. “We are not allowed to
help you. To save you.”

“Dain—”
“And when they gather the bodies for the roll, no one’s going to

document how that cadet died. You’re just as likely to fall under Barlowe’s

knife as a dragon’s talon.”
I breathe through the jolt of fear.

“Markham says that he’ll put you through the first year without telling

your mother. By the time she finds out, you’ll already be inducted as a
scribe. There’s nothing she can do after that.” He lifts his other hand so he’s

holding my face between both palms, tipping it up toward his. “Please. If

you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for me.”
My heart stutters, and I sway, his reasoning tugging me toward exactly

what he’s suggesting. But you’ve made it this far, a part of me whispers.
“I can’t lose you, Violet,” he whispers, resting his forehead against mine.