Page 175 - Fourth Wing

his fingers, his arm. “I’m a rider.”

“Well, maybe I am, too,” I whisper as light appears ahead. I didn’t
believe it before, not when I couldn’t leave because my mother wouldn’t let

me, but now I have a choice. And I choose to stay.

“Don’t be—” He cuts himself off and drops my hand. “I don’t want to
bury you, Vi.”

“It’s inevitable that one of us will have to bury the other.” It’s not

macabre, just fact.
“You know what I mean.”

The light grows into an archway that’s ten feet high, leading us to the

base of the Gauntlet.
“Please don’t do this,” Dain begs, not bothering to lower his voice this

time as we emerge into the mottled sunlight.
The view is spectacular as always. We’re still high on the mountain,

thousands of feet above the valley, and the greenery seems to stretch

endlessly to the south, with random clusters of squat trees among colorful
slopes of wildflowers. My gaze turns to the Gauntlet carved into the face of

the cliff, and I can’t help but follow each obstacle higher and higher until
I’m staring at the top of the ridgeline that the maps I’ve studied show leads

into a box canyon—the flight field. I bite my lip as I stare at the break in the

tree line.
Normally, only riders are allowed on the flight field—except for

Presentation.

“I don’t know if I can watch,” Dain says, drawing my attention back to
his strong face. His perfectly trimmed beard brackets full lips drawn tight

into a frown.

“Then close your eyes.” I have a plan—a shitty one, but it’s worth a try.
“What changed between Parapet and now?” Dain asks again, a wealth of

emotions in his eyes that I can’t begin to interpret. Well, except the fear.
That doesn’t need any interpretation.