Page 210 - Fourth Wing

I glance down at Oren, still unconscious in the grass beside my feet. It’s

not like I can argue that astute assessment. “Well, that’s a statement on his
character. Not mine.”

The dragon only blinks in response, and I can’t quite tell if that’s a good

thing or not.
There’s a flash of blue out of the corner of my eye, then a whoosh of air

as Xaden and Sgaeyl take off, leaving me here with the giant black dragon

and the little golden one. Guess Xaden’s momentary concern for my life is
over.

The dragon’s giant nostrils flare. “You’re bleeding. Stop it.”

My arm.
“It’s not that simple when you’ve been run through with a—” I shake my

head again. Am I seriously arguing with a dragon? This is so fucking
surreal. “You know what? That’s a great idea.” I manage to cut off what

remains of my right shirtsleeve and wrap it around the wound, holding one

end of the fabric with my teeth as I tie it tight to apply pressure and slow the
bleeding. “There. Better?”

“It will do.” He tilts his head at me. “Your hands are bound, too. Do you
bleed often?”

“I try not to.”

He scoffs. “Let’s go, Violet Sorrengail.” He lifts his head, and the golden
dragon peeks out from under his wing.

“How do you know my name?” I gawk up at him.

“And to think, I’d almost forgotten just how loquacious humans are.” He
sighs, the gust of his breath rattling the trees. “Get on my back.”

Oh. Shit. He’s choosing…me.

“Get on your back?” I repeat like a fucking parrot. “Have you seen you?
Do you have any idea how huge you are?” I’d need a damned ladder to get

up there.
The look he gives me can only be described as annoyance. “One does not