Page 36 - Fourth Wing

There’s a misconception that it’s kill or be killed in the Riders

Quadrant. Riders, as a whole, aren’t out to assassinate other
cadets…unless there’s a shortage of dragons that year or a cadet is a
liability to their wing. Then things may get…interesting.

—MAJOR AFENDRA’S GUIDE TO THE RIDERS QUADRANT
(UNAUTHORIZED EDITION)

CHAPTER

TWO

I will not die today.

The words become my mantra, repeating in my head as Rhiannon gives
her name to the rider keeping tally at the opening to the parapet. The hatred

in Xaden’s stare burns the side of my face like a palpable flame, and even

the rain pelting my skin with each gust of wind doesn’t ease the heat—or
the shiver of dread that jolts down my spine.

Dylan is dead. He’s just a name, another soon-to-be stone in the endless

graveyards that line the roads to Basgiath, another warning to the ambitious
candidates who would rather chance their lives with the riders than choose

the security of any other quadrant. I get it now—why Mira warned me not
to make friends.

Rhiannon grips both sides of the opening in the turret, then looks over her

shoulder at me. “I’ll wait for you on the other side,” she shouts over the
storm. The fear in her eyes mirrors my own.

“I’ll see you on the other side.” I nod and even manage a grimace of a
smile.

She steps out onto the parapet and begins walking, and even though I’m

sure his hands are full today, I send up a silent prayer to Zihnal, the god of