Page 373 - Fourth Wing

developing her wielding skills.”

“I think we both know she’s not going to manifest a signet in that room.
She would have already if that was the key.” I wouldn’t wish the look

Xaden levels Dain with on my worst enemy. It’s not anger or even

indignation. No, he looks…annoyed, as if Dain’s complaints are entirely
beneath him, which, according to our chain of command, they are. “And

yes, the wing has more pressing matters for her.”

“Sir, I’m just not comfortable with her going a day without at least
practicing her wielding, and as her squad leader—”

He doesn’t know that Xaden’s been giving me extra wielding sessions

while we spar.
“For Dunne’s sake.” Xaden sighs, invoking the goddess of war. He

reaches into the pocket of his cloak and takes out a pocket watch, holding it
in his outstretched palm. “Pick it up, Sorrengail.”

I glance at the two men and wish they’d just sort their shit out between

themselves, but there’s about a zero percent chance of that happening. For
the sake of expediency, I throw my mental feet into the floor of the

Archives. White-hot power flows around me, raising goose bumps on my
arms and lifting the hair at the back of my neck.

Raising my right hand, I envision that power twining between my fingers,

and little shocks blossom along my skin as I give form to the energy,
making it a hand of its own as I ask it to stretch the few feet that separate

me from Xaden.

There’s an abrupt halt, as though my tendrils of raw magic hit a wall, but
then it gives, and I push forward, keeping tight control of the blazing hand.

There’s a crackle in my head, like the dying embers of a fire, as my power

brushes Xaden’s hand, but I close my mental fist around the pocket watch
and then pull.

It’s fucking heavy.
“You got this,” Rhiannon urges.