Page 237 - Fourth Wing

prisoners is well-known, at least at my family’s dining room table. His

enormous nightmare of a dragon takes up the entire space beside the dais,
and a hush falls over the crowd as Melgren angles his hands in front of his

face.

“Codagh has relayed that the dragons have spoken regarding the
Sorrengail girl.” Lesser magic allows his voice to magically amplify over

the field for all to hear.

Woman, I mentally correct him, my stomach knotting.
“While tradition has shown us that there is one rider for every dragon,

there has never been a case of two dragons selecting the same rider, and

therefore there is no dragon law against it,” he declares. “While we riders
may not feel as though this is…equitable”—his tone implies that he’s one

of them—“dragons make their own laws. Both Tairn and…” He looks over
his shoulder and his aide rushes forward to whisper in his ear. “Andarna

have chosen Violet Sorrengail, and so their choice stands.”

The crowd murmurs, but my shoulders sag in acute relief. I don’t have to
make an impossible choice.

“As it should be,” Tairn grumbles. “Humans have no say in the laws of
dragons.”

Mom steps forward and makes the same gesture with her hands to project

her voice, but I can’t concentrate on what she’s saying as she closes out the
formal portion of the Threshing ceremony, promising the unbonded riders

another chance next year. If they don’t manage to kill one of us while our

bonds are weak in the next few months and try to bond our dragons
themselves.

I belong to Tairn and Andarna…and, in some really fucked-up way…

Xaden.
My scalp prickles, and I glance across the field at him.

As if sensing my gaze, he looks over and holds up a single finger. Target
number one.