Page 312 - Fourth Wing

hard for you to be in here? Or is it more of a comfort thing?”

Subject change noted.
I take in the rows of tables, slowly filling with scribes readying

themselves for work, and imagine my father among them. “It’s like coming

home, but not. And it’s not that it’s changed—this place never changes.
Hell, I think change is the mortal enemy of a scribe. But I’m starting to

realize that I’ve changed. I don’t quite fit here. Not anymore.”

“Yeah. I get that.” Something in his voice tells me he really does.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask what the last five years were like for

him, but Jesinia reappears, the cart laden with the requested tomes.

“I have everything here for you,” she signs, then gestures to the scroll on
top. “And that is for Professor Markham.”

“We’ll make sure he gets it,” I promise, leaning forward to take the cart.
My high collar shifts, and Jesinia gasps, her hand flying to cover her mouth.

“Oh gods, Violet. Your neck!” Her hand movements are sharp, and the

sympathy in her eyes makes my chest tighten. “Sympathy” isn’t a word
found in our quadrant. There’s rage, wrath, and indignation…but no

sympathy.
“It’s nothing.” I put my collar back in place, covering the ring of

yellowing bruises, and Liam reaches across me, taking the cart. “We’ll see

you tomorrow.”
She bobs her head and wrings her hands as we turn for the door. Pierson

closes it after we pass into the hallway.

“Riorson taught me to fight during the years he was at Tirvainne.” Liam’s
change of subject is appreciated and no doubt intentional once again. “I’ve

never seen anyone move the way he does. He’s the only reason I made it

through the first round of challenges. He might not show it, but he takes
care of his own.”

“Are you trying to sell me on his finer points?” We make the ascent, and I
note with some satisfaction that my legs feel strong today. I love the days