Page 591 - Fourth Wing

“Violet.” I know that deep, panicked voice. Xaden. But I can’t move,

can’t even force my lips apart to scream with the pain of it all when he puts
pressure on the wound. “Fuck, it must be poison. You have to fight it.”

Poison. The green-tipped dagger.

But what poison could paralyze me not only physically but magically?
“I’ll take care of you. Just…just live. Please live.”

Of course he wants me to live. I’m integral to his survival.

It takes all my strength, but I manage to lift my eyelids for a second, and
the blatant fear in his eyes jolts my heart before I lose consciousness.

…

“Maybe it isn’t poison,” someone says in a deep voice as I wake but can’t
pry my eyes open. Garrick, maybe? Gods, everything hurts. “Maybe it’s

magic.”

“Did you see the way she whipped that lightning straight at that venin’s
head?” someone asks.

“Not now,” Bodhi practically growls. “She saved your fucking life. She

saved all our lives.”
But I didn’t. Soleil and…Liam are dead.

“Her blood is fucking black,” Xaden snaps and his arms tighten, holding

me to his chest.
“It has to be poison,” Imogen cries—a sound I’ve never heard from her.

“Look at it! We have to get her back to Basgiath. Nolon might be able to
help.”

Yes. Nolon. They need to take me to Nolon. But I can’t say it, can’t make

my lips move, can’t even reach out along the mental pathways that have
become as familiar to me as breathing. Being cut off from Tairn, from

Andarna…from Xaden is a torture all on its own.
“That’s a twelve-hour flight.” Xaden’s voice rises. “And I’m pretty sure

her arm is broken.”