Page 151 - Fourth Wing

“What’s your problem?” Tynan shoves a strand of thick, dark hair from

his eyes and pivots like he’s going to stare some intimidation into Ridoc,
but it doesn’t really work out, seeing as Ridoc is twice as wide and half a

foot taller.

“My problem? You think because you made friends with Barlowe and
Siefert that you have the right to be a dick to your own squadmate?” Ridoc

challenges.

“Exactly. Squadmate.” Tynan gestures toward the obstacle course. “Our
times aren’t just ranked individually, Ridoc. We’re scored as a squad, too,

which is how the order for Presentation is decided. Do you really think any

dragon wants to bond a cadet who walks in after every other squad in the
processional?”

Fine, he has a point. It’s a shitty one, but it’s there.
“They’re not timing us for Presentation today, asshole.” Ridoc takes a

step forward.

“Stop.” Sawyer shuffles between the two, shoving Tynan’s chest hard
enough to make him stagger back into the girl behind him. “Take it from

someone who made it through Presentation last year: your time doesn’t
mean anything. The last cadet to walk in last year bonded just fine, and

some of the cadets in the first squad onto the field were passed over.”

“Little bitter about that, aren’t you?” Tynan smirks.
Sawyer ignores the barb. “Besides, it’s not called the Gauntlet because it

weeds out cadets.”

“It’s called the Gauntlet because this is the cliff that guards the Vale,”
Professor Emetterio says, walking up behind our squad, his shaved head

glinting in the growing sunlight. “Plus, actual gauntlets—armored gloves

made of metal—are slippery as hell, and the name stuck about twenty years
ago.” He cocks a brow at Tynan and Sawyer. “Are you two done arguing?

Because all nine of you have exactly an hour to get to the top before it’s
another squad’s chance to practice, and from what I’ve seen of your agility