Page 288 - Fourth Wing

Andarna scurries between Sgaeyl’s claws, galloping toward us. She skids

the last dozen feet, paws digging into the ground to stop just in front of me,
bringing her nose to my ribs as an urgent sense of anxiety fills my head,

swamping me with feelings I know aren’t mine.

“No broken bones,” I promise, stroking my hand over the bumpy ridges
of her head. “They’re just bruised.”

“You’re sure?” she asks, worry widening her eyes.

“As sure as I can be.” I force a smile. Trudging out here in the middle of
the night is worth it to alleviate her anxiety.

“Yes, I want a word. What the hell kind of powers are you channeling to

her?” Xaden demands, staring up at Tairn like he isn’t…Tairn.
Yep. Ballsy. Every muscle in my body locks, sure that Tairn is about to

torch Xaden for impudence.
“None of your business what I choose or do not choose to channel

toward my rider,” Tairn answers with a growl.

This is going well.
“He says—” I start.

“I heard him,” Xaden counters, not sparing me a glance.
“You what?” My eyebrows hit my hairline, and Andarna retreats to stand

with the others. Dragons only talk to their riders. That’s what I’ve always

been taught.
“It’s absolutely my business when you expect me to protect her,” Xaden

retorts, his voice rising.

“I got the message to you just fine, human.” Tairn’s head swivels in that
snakelike motion that puts me on alert. He’s more than agitated.

“And I barely made it.” The words come out clipped through clenched

teeth. “She would have been dead if I’d been thirty seconds later.”
“Seems like you had thirty seconds gifted to you.” Tairn’s chest rumbles

with a growl.
“And I’d like to know what the fuck happened in there!”