Page 582 - Fourth Wing

Imogen spent in the weight room, every single time Xaden has taken me to

the mat has to be worth something, right?
This is just a challenge…with a not-so-fictitious dark wielder…on the

parapet.

A moving, flying parapet.
“Get back in your seat!” Tairn orders.

“You can’t shake her. She’ll cut into you again. I have to kill her.” I shove

the fear aside. There’s no room for it here.
By the dying sunlight and the eerie glow of the burning city below us, I

dodge the first swipe of her knife, then the second, ducking low and

throwing up my forearm to block a downward thrust, halting the plunge of
metal jabbing toward my face. The force of impact results in a snap I know

is one of my bones.
Excruciating pain momentarily freezes me as the dagger flies out of my

hand. I’m down to only one. My heart pounds as my feet catch on one of

Tairn’s spikes, and I stumble.
I can’t even cradle my ruined, throbbing arm as she advances, gaining on

me with every lunge and swipe of her green-tipped daggers. It’s as if she
knows exactly what I’m going to do before I do it. She counters every one

of my attacks with a quicker one of her own, as if she’s adapting to my

fighting style from mere moments of combat. She’s unnaturally quick. I’ve
never seen Xaden or Imogen move this fast.

I manage to parry each of her attacks, but there’s no question that I’m on

the defense. She’s not even in leathers, just a fluttering sail of a robe, and
still—

Pain flares in my side, hot and sharp, and I fall back in disbelief when I

find one of her daggers protruding low in my side, just beneath the edge of
the dragon-scale armor.

Tairn roars and Andarna shrieks.
“Violet!” Xaden screams.