Page 220 - Fourth Wing

my mind.

My lips part, and the muscles in my face go slack with shock. “Didn’t
anyone tell you that you’re not supposed to speak to humans who aren’t

your rider? Don’t go getting yourself in trouble, Goldie,” I whisper. “From

what I hear, dragons are pretty strict about breaking that rule.”
She simply sits, tucking her wings in, and tilts her head at me in that

should-be-impossible angle that almost makes me laugh.

“Holy hell!” the rider of the red dragon to my right exclaims, and I turn
toward him. He’s a first-year from Claw Section, Fourth Wing, but I don’t

remember his name. “Is that…” He openly stares with fear-wide eyes at

Tairn.
“Yeah,” I say, smiling wider. “He is.”

My ankle throbs, aches, and generally feels like it’s going to come apart
at any second as I limp across the wide field, heading for the small

formation directly ahead of me. Behind me, wind sporadically gusts as

more dragons land and their riders dismount to have their names recorded,
but it’s softer and softer as the line spreads farther down the field.

Dusk falls, and a series of mage lights illuminates the crowd in the
bleachers and on the dais. In the very center, right above where the redhead

from Parapet is recording roll, sits my mother, dressed in all her military

finery, medals and all, lest anyone forget exactly who she is. Though there
is an assortment of generals on the dais, each representing their wing,

there’s only one more highly decorated than Lilith Sorrengail.

And Melgren, the commanding general of all Navarrian forces, has his
beady eyes on Tairn in open assessment. His focus flicks toward me, and I

suppress a shudder. There’s nothing but cold calculation in those eyes.

Mom rises as I approach the roll-keeper at the base of the dais, who’s
recording bonded pairs before motioning the next rider forward to maintain

secrecy of a dragon’s full name.
Professor Kaori jumps off the six-foot platform to my left and stares