Page 387 - Fourth Wing

My mouth hangs open, matching about half the squad.

“I know, it’s pretty awesome.” She winks, pulling her curls up into a bun.
“Yes. That we can use.” My head bobs as I parcel through the easiest way

to do this.

“What are you thinking, Sorrengail?” Imogen prompts, tucking the short
hair on one side of her shaved head behind her ear.

“You’re going to tell me I’ve lost my mind, but if we pull it off, we’ll win

for sure.” I might not be enough like my mother to win her approval, but I
know where she keeps the most valuable information.

“And?”

“We’re going to break into my mother’s office.”

…

“You are so fucking creepy.” Ridoc squirms two hours later, leaning away

from Quinn, well, from Quinn’s astral form. Her body is currently with
Heaton, guarded in the weight room.

The rest of us are sneaking through the hallways past the Healer

Quadrant. We’ve already run into a squad from Second and another from
Third, but none of us had time to question or deter the others.

We’ll rise or fall on our own merit with this timeline, and we’ve wasted

the last two hours waiting for night to fall so it would even be possible.
“I’ve never been farther than this,” Emery says as we pass the last door to

the clinic.
“You’ve never even been to the Archives?” Imogen asks.

“I avoid that duty like the plague,” Emery answers. “Scribes freak me

out. Quiet little know-it-alls, acting like they can make or break someone by
writing something down.”

I grin. There’s more truth to that statement than most people realize.
“Infantry is still out camping.” Rhiannon points out the windows to the

dozens of campfires illuminating the field below.