Page 581 - Fourth Wing

But it was the third brother, who commanded the sky to surrender

its greatest power, who finally vanquished his jealous sibling at a
great and terrible price.

—“THE ORIGIN,” THE FABLES OF THE BARREN

CHAPTER

THIRTY-SEVEN

I whip around in the saddle and see a venin—the one who killed Soleil,

distended, branchlike veins spreading from her red eyes—grasping the

sword she’s stabbed in between Tairn’s scales in the area behind his wings.
“There’s a venin on your back!” I shout at Tairn as the venin whips a ball

of fire toward my head. It comes so close that I feel the singe of heat along
my cheek.

Tairn rolls, executing a dizzying climb that throws my weight back into

the saddle, and yet the venin holds fast, grabbing on to the embedded sword
as her feet fly out from under her. The second Tairn levels off, the venin

stares at me like I’m her next meal, striding for me with nothing but resolve
in her eyes and fisting serrated green-tipped daggers.

“Three more riderless ones on my tail!” Tairn shouts.

Fuck. There’s something I’m missing. It’s taunting me from the edge of
my mind like the answer to a test I know I’ve studied for.

“Aren’t you a little small for a dragon rider?” the venin hisses.

“Big enough to kill you.” Tairn and I are dead if I don’t do something.
“I need you to stay level,” I tell Tairn, unbuckling my thigh straps.

“You will not unseat!” Tairn growls.

“I won’t let her kill you!” I climb to my feet and unsheathe the two
daggers Xaden gave me today. Every challenge, every obstacle, every hour