Page 55 - Fourth Wing

last spring, after I passed the initial entrance exam, and I immediately

started working with Major Gillstead.” He’ll be so proud when he reads the
rolls tomorrow and sees that I’m not on them.

“There’s a door at the bottom of this stairwell, below the main level, that

leads to the passage into the Healers Quadrant farther up the ravine,” he
says as we approach the first floor. “We’ll get you through that and into the

Scribe Quadrant.”

“What?” I stop as my feet hit the polished stone landing at the main floor,
but he continues downward.

He’s already three steps beneath me when he realizes I’m not with him.

“The Scribe Quadrant,” he says slowly, turning to face me.
This angle makes me taller than he is, and I glare down at him. “I can’t

go to the Scribe Quadrant, Dain.”
“I’m sorry?” His eyebrows fly up.

“She won’t stand for it.” I shake my head.

His mouth opens, then shuts, and his fists clench at his sides. “This place
will kill you, Violet. You can’t stay here. Everyone will understand. You

didn’t volunteer—not really.”
Anger bristles up my spine, and my gaze narrows on him. Ignoring who

did or did not volunteer me, I snap, “One, I’m well aware of what my

chances are here, Dain, and two, usually fifteen percent of candidates don’t
make it past the parapet, and I’m still standing, so I guess I’m beating those

odds already.”

He backs up another step. “I’m not saying you didn’t just kick absolute
ass by getting here, Vi. But you have to leave. You’ll break the first time

they put you in the sparring ring, and that’s before the dragons sense that

you’re…” He shakes his head and looks away, his jaw clenching.
“I’m what?” My hackles rise. “Go ahead and say it. When they sense I’m

less than the others? Is that what you mean?”
“Damn it.” He rakes his hand over his close-cropped light-brown curls.