Page 385 - Fourth Wing

Every one of us turns to face the first-year who hasn’t been remotely

subtle about her hatred of marked ones. Knowing now that she’s from a
northern village on the border of the provinces of Deaconshire and

Tyrrendor, I can see her reasoning. I just don’t agree with it, hence why I’m

not exactly friendly with her.
She visibly swallows, her nervous gaze skittering over all of us. “I’m fine

with it.”

“Good.” Imogen folds her arms across her chest, the wrist with her
rebellion relic peeking out from under her tunic. “We have a little less than

three hours. What are your ideas?”

“What about a piece of weaponry?” Ridoc suggests. “A cross-bolt would
be deadly to any of our dragons in the hands of our enemies.”

“Too big,” Quinn says decisively. “There’s only one in the museum, and
honestly, it’s not even the bolt that’s deadly, it’s the launching system.”

“Next?” Imogen glances at each of us.

“We could steal Panchek’s underw—” Ridoc starts before Rhiannon
slams her hand over his mouth.

“And that’s why we don’t let you lead.” She arches a brow at him.
“Come on, guys! Think! What’s the most useful thing to our enemy?”

Imogen’s brow puckers over her pale green eyes.

“Information,” Liam answers. He swings his gaze toward me. “Violet,
what about stealing the news missives from the Archives? The ones that

come in from the front?”

I shake my head. “It’s after seven. The Archives are locked, and it’s the
kind of vault that even wielding isn’t going to touch. The whole room is

sealed up airtight in case of fire.”

“Damn.” Imogen sighs. “That was a good one.”
The entire room breaks into conversation, each voice louder than the next

as suggestions are hurled into the open.
Information. My stomach twists as an idea takes form. It would be a