Page 271 - Fourth Wing

The impression is uncanny, embarrassing, and terrifying.

“Oh gods,” I whisper, my heart thundering so loud, I can hear the
pounding blood in my ears. Forget the embarrassment. Who cares if people

know Dain is thinking about me? Jeremiah’s signet power is manifesting.

He can read minds—an inntinnsic. His power is a death sentence.
Ridoc stumbles backward on my left—shoved aside—and I don’t need to

look to know whose muscled arm now brushes my shoulder. The scent of

mint somehow steadies my heartbeat.
Jeremiah unsheathes his shortsword. “Make it stop! Can’t any of you see?

The thoughts won’t stop!” His panic is palpable, clogging my own throat.

“Do something,” I beg Xaden, glancing up at him.
His unwavering, lethal focus is on Jeremiah, but his body tenses at my

plea, poised, ready to strike. “Start mentally reciting whatever bookish shit
you’ve learned.”

“I’m sorry?” I hiss up at him.

“If you value your secrets, clear your thoughts. Now,” Xaden orders.
Oh. Shit.

Nothing comes to mind, and we’re clearly in imminent danger. Um…
Many Navarrian defense posts exist beyond the safety of our wards. Such

posts are considered to be in a zone of imminent danger and should only be

staffed by military personnel and never the civilians who usually
accompany them.

“And you!” Jeremiah turns, his gaze locking on Garrick. “Damn it all to

hell. He’ll know about—” The shadows around Jeremiah’s feet snake up his
legs in a heartbeat, winding around his chest until they cover his mouth in

bands of black.

I swallow the boulder in my throat.
A professor pushes through the crowd, his shock of white hair bouncing

with every step of his large frame.
“He’s an inntinnsic!” someone shouts, and that seems to be all that’s