Page 322 - Fourth Wing

The first rush of power is unmistakable. The first time it forms to

you, surrounds you with a seemingly endless supply of energy, you’ll
be addicted to the high, to the possibilities of all you can do with it,
to the control you hold in the palm of your hand. But here’s the

thing, that power can quickly turn and control you.

—PAGE SIXTY-FOUR, THE BOOK OF BRENNAN

CHAPTER

TWENTY-TWO

The rest of November passes without mention of what happened at

Sumerton, and by the time the howling winds bring snow in December, I’ve
given up hoping command will release the information. It’s not like Liam or

I can directly ask the professors without incriminating ourselves for reading

what was obviously a classified report—even if it wasn’t marked.
It makes me wonder what else doesn’t make it to Battle Brief, but I keep

that to myself. Between that and my growing frustration over my inability

to channel—unlike three-quarters of my year—I’m keeping a lot to myself
these days.

“Not entirely,” Tairn grunts.
“No comments from you, not after you almost let me hit the side of a

mountain today.” My stomach churns just thinking about how far he let me

fall.
The first-year from Third Wing wasn’t as lucky. She lost her seat during a

new maneuver and ended up on the death roll this morning.
Rhiannon swings her bow staff, and I throw my weight into a backbend,

narrowly escaping the strike. To my absolute surprise, I keep my balance on

the training mat.