Page 246 - Fourth Wing

I stare at the sausage. Imogen hates me just as much as Oren does. Hell,

she’s the one who broke my arm and ripped out my shoulder on assessment
day.

“You can trust her,” Tairn says, and I startle, dropping the orange.

“She hates me.”
“Stop arguing with me and eat something.” There’s zero room for debate

in his tone.

My gaze rises to meet Imogen’s, and she tilts her head, staring back in
challenge.

I use my fork to cut the link, then pop it into my mouth and chew,

focusing on the conversation at the table again.
“What’s your signet?” Rhiannon asks Emery.

Air rushes down the table, rattling the glasses. Air manipulation. Got it.
“That’s epic.” Ridoc’s eyes widen. “How much air can you move?”

“None of your business.” He barely spares him a glance.

“Sorrengail, after class is out today, you’re mine,” Imogen says.
I swallow my current bite. “I’m sorry?”

Her pale green eyes lock on mine. “Meet me in the sparring gym.”
“I’m already working with her on sparring—” Rhiannon starts.

“Good. We can’t afford her to lose any challenges,” Imogen retorts. “But

I’m going to help you with weights. We need to strengthen the muscles
around your joints before challenges resume. That’s the only way you’ll

survive.”

The hairs rise on the back of my neck. “And since when do you care
about my survival?” This isn’t a squad thing. It can’t be. Not when she

didn’t give a shit before.

“Since now,” she says, gripping her fork in her fist, but it’s the lightning-
fast glance toward the dais at the end of the hall that gives her away. Her

concern isn’t coming from the goodness of her heart. Something tells me
it’s an order. “Squads are about to be condensed at morning formation.