Page 218 - Fourth Wing

or so newly bonded pairs.

A ferocious roar of celebration goes up among the dragons as we fly in,
every head swinging our way, and I know it’s in deference to Tairn. So is

the parting of the dragons at the very center of the field, making room for

Tairn to land. He releases the bands holding me in my seat, then hovers over
the grass for a few wing beats, and I see the golden dragon flying furiously

to catch up.

How ironic. Tairn is the most celebrated dragon in the Vale, and I’m the
most unlikely rider in the quadrant.

“You are the smartest of your year. The most cunning.”

I gulp at the compliment, brushing it off. I was trained as a scribe, not a
rider.

“You defended the smallest with ferocity. And strength of courage is more
important than physical strength. Since you apparently need to know before

we land.”

My throat tightens from his words, emotion forming a knot I have to
swallow past.

Oh. Shit. I hadn’t spoken those words. I’d thought them.
He can read my thoughts.

“See? Smartest of your year.”

So much for privacy.
“You’ll never be alone again.”

“That sounds more like a threat than a comfort,” I think. Of course I

knew that dragons maintain a mental bond with their riders, but the extent
of it is more than a little daunting.

Tairn scoffs in reply.

The golden dragon reaches us, her wings beating twice as fast as Tairn’s,
and we land in the dead center of the field. The impact jars me slightly, but

I sit up tall in the seat and even let go of the pommel ridges.
“See, I can hang on just fine when you’re not moving.”