Page 381 - Fourth Wing

The Squad Battle is more important than the wingleaders will let

on. They like to joke that it’s a game, that it’s just bragging rights
for the squad leaders and the winning squad, but it’s not. They’re
all watching. The commandant, the professors, the commanding

officers—they’re watching to see who will rise to the top. They’re
salivating to see who will fall.

—PAGE SEVENTY-SEVEN, THE BOOK OF BRENNAN

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FIVE

“Tap out!” Rhiannon screams as a rider out of Second Wing fights to drag
himself forward on the mat, his hands splayed wide, his fingernails digging

in as Liam holds him in a leg lock, forcing his back into what should be an

impossible arch.
My heart pounds as the excitement of today’s matches reaches a fever

pitch.
It’s the last challenge of this portion of the Squad Battle, and the crowd

pushes at our backs, forcing me to continuously struggle not to fall over

onto the mat. After two events, we’re in seventh out of twenty-four on the
leaderboard, but if Liam wins, we’ll jump to third.

My flight time in the gauntlet sky race was the slowest in squad, but
that’s because I kept forcing Tairn to release his magical hold on me—and

then we’d lose precious seconds while he had to dip to catch me and toss

me back in the saddle. Over and over and over again. I swear, the bruises on
my ass from landing in the hard divot hurt less than Tairn’s scoff that I’d

humiliated his entire family line as we crossed the finish line last.

Mikael cries out in pain, the sound sharp, near earsplitting, and pulling