Page 295 - Fourth Wing

Accusing a wingleader of wrongdoing is the most dangerous of all

accusations. If you’re right, then we’ve failed as a quadrant to select
the best wingleaders. If you’re wrong, you’re dead.

—MY TIME AS A CADET: A MEMOIR

BY GENERAL AUGUSTINE MELGREN

CHAPTER

TWENTY

“Oren Seifert.” Captain Fitzgibbons finishes reading the death roll and

closes the scroll as we stand in formation the next morning, our breath

creating clouds in the chilled air. “We commend their souls to Malek.”
There’s no room for sorrow in my heart for six of the eight names, not

when I’m shifting my weight to soothe the ache of black-and-blue along my

ribs and ignoring the way other riders stare at the ring of bruises I wear
around my throat.

The two others on today’s list are third-years from Second Wing, killed

on a training operation near the Braevick border, according to breakfast
gossip, and I can’t help but wonder if that’s where Xaden had been before

coming to my rescue last night.
“I can’t believe they tried to kill you while you were sleeping.”

Rhiannon’s still seething at breakfast after I told our table what happened.

Maybe Xaden is fighting to keep last night’s events a secret, to hide what
a liability I really am to him, because no one else in leadership knows. He

didn’t say a single word after I told him who unlocked the door, so I have
no clue if he believes me or not.

“Even worse, I think I’m getting used to it.” Either I have kick-ass

compartmentalization skills or I really am acclimating to always being a