Page 58 - Fourth Wing

“I’m good to go.” I nod and turn toward the other woman as Rhiannon

introduces us. Her name is Tara, and she’s from the Morraine province to
the north, along the coast of the Emerald Sea. She has that same air of

confidence Mira does, and her eyes dance with excitement as she and

Rhiannon talk about how they’ve both obsessed over dragons since
childhood. I pay attention but only enough to recall details if we need to

form an alliance.

An hour passes, then another, according to the Basgiath bells, which we
can hear from here. Then the last of the cadets walks into the courtyard,

followed by the three riders from the other turret.

Xaden is among them. It’s not just his height that makes him stand out in
this crowd but the way the other riders all seem to move around him, like

he’s a shark and they’re all fish giving him a wide berth. For a second, I
can’t help but wonder what his signet is, the unique power from the bond

with his dragon, and if that’s why even the third-years seem to scurry out of

his way as he strides up to the dais with lethal grace. There are ten of them
in total up there now, and from the way Commandant Panchek moves to the

front, facing us—
“I think we’re about to start,” I say to Rhiannon and Tara, and they both

turn to face the dais. Everyone does.

“Three hundred and one of you have survived the parapet to become
cadets today,” Commandant Panchek starts with a politician’s smile,

gesturing to us. The guy has always talked with his hands. “Good job.

Sixty-seven did not.”
My chest clenches as my brain spins the calculation quickly. Almost

twenty percent. Was it the rain? The wind? That’s more than average. Sixty-

seven people died trying to get here.
“I’ve heard this position is just a stepping stone for him,” Tara whispers.

“He wants Sorrengail’s job, then General Melgren’s.”
The commanding general of all Navarre’s forces. Melgren’s beady eyes