Page 270 - Fourth Wing

lungs.

Other than the last year, when he entered the Riders Quadrant, I can’t
remember a time without Dain in my life.

But I can’t take his constant pessimism about my future anymore.

Sunlight overpowers me for a second as I walk into the courtyard. Classes
are out for the afternoon, and I see Xaden and Garrick leaned up against the

wall of the academic building like gods surveying their domain.

Xaden arches a dark eyebrow as I pass by.
I flip him the middle finger.

I’m not taking his shit today, either.

“Everything all right?” Rhiannon asks as I catch up to her and the guys.
“Dain is an ass—”

“Make it stop!” someone screams, rushing down the steps of the rotunda
and holding his head. It’s a first-year in Third Wing who sits two rows

beneath me in Battle Brief and perpetually drops his quill. “For gods’ sake,

make it stop!” he shrieks, stumbling into the courtyard.
My hands hover over my blades.

A shadow moves to my left, and a glance tells me Xaden has moved,
casually putting himself just ahead of me.

The crowd hollows, forming a circle around the first-year as he screams,

clutching his head.
“Jeremiah!” someone shouts, coming forward.

“You!” Jeremiah spins, pointing his finger at the third-year. “You think

I’ve lost it!” His head tilts, and his eyes flare. “How does he know? He
shouldn’t know!” His tone shifts, like the words aren’t his own.

Chills race down my spine, dragging my stomach to the ground.

“And you!” He spins again, pointing at a second-year in First Wing.
“What the hell is wrong with him? Why is he screaming?” He turns again,

focused on Dain. “Is Violet going to hate me forever? Why can’t she see
that I just want to keep her alive? How is he…? He’s reading my thoughts!”