Page 517 - Fourth Wing

“Oh, I don’t know. Because it’s huge on you and there are three stars right

here?” She taps where there’s only one star on her uniform.
Well, shit. Just goes to show that neither of us was thinking clearly.

“It could be any third-year’s.” I shrug.

“With a Fourth Wing shield on the shoulder?” She cocks an eyebrow.
“That does limit it a bit,” I agree.

“And a wingleader emblem beneath those stars?” she teases.

“Fine, it’s his,” I whisper quickly as Commandant Panchek takes the dais,
followed by Dain’s father and the wingleaders. Xaden’s damn good at

keeping his eyes off me, but I can’t say the same, especially when there’s

little doubt he’s about to be sent away and I can still feel his mouth on my
skin.

“I knew it!” Rhi grins. “Tell me it’s good.”
“I broke his window.” I wince and my cheeks heat.

“Like…you threw something at it?” Her brow knits.

“No. As in, lightning struck…a lot, and I shattered his window.” I glance
toward the dais. “And look, there he is now, all calm, cool, and collected.”

My chest tightens as I wonder which is the real version of him? The one
standing up there, in complete control, ready to command his wing? Or the

one I had inside me less than a half hour ago? The one who declared that he

doesn’t deserve me but is going to keep me?
Xaden looks anything but pleased, and his gaze locks with mine for a

millisecond. “Fucking War Games.”

Relief and disbelief hit me in equal measure.
“You’re kidding me.” We got hauled out of bed for War Games?

“Nope.”

“Damn.” Rhiannon grins. “I wish someone made me shatter windows.”
I turn toward her, rolling my eyes. “Oh please, you’ve had way more—”

“Hey, Aetos,” Rhiannon says, leaning on my shoulder and quickly
draping her hand over my collarbone to hide Xaden’s insignia and rank.