Page 603 - Fourth Wing

At least they made it out, and now that Violet is awake, I can finally

breathe. “You figure out what that box was that Chradh was drawn to back
at Resson?” I ask. Garrick’s dragon is remarkably sensitive to runes, which

allowed them to locate and retrieve the small iron box beneath the rubble of

the clock tower.
“They’re working on it right now. Hopefully we’ll have an answer in the

next couple of hours. I’m glad she’s all right, Xaden. I’ll tell the others.” He

nods once and heads down the hall, almost as familiar with the castle’s
layout as I am, considering he spent every summer here before the apostasy,

or secession, as the Navarrians call Dad’s rebellion.

Funny how people rename everything that makes them feel
uncomfortable. We lost faith that our king would ever do the right thing.

And they call us traitors.
Bodhi wrinkles his nose.

“What?”

“You smell like dragon ass.”
“Fuck off.” I chance a whiff and can’t argue. “I’m using your room.”

“I would consider it a personal favor.”
I extend my middle finger and head toward his room.

…

An hour later, I’m bathed and impatient as I wait outside my room in a fresh

set of leathers with Bodhi, who’s doing his best to lighten my mood just like
he always does, when the door opens and Violet stands there.

I nearly swallow my tongue at the sight of her unbound, damp hair

curling just under her breasts. I can’t even articulate what it is about the
strands that pushes me straight into need-to-fuck-her-now territory, and I’m

too busy fighting to keep my hands at my sides to question the why of it.
She exists, and I get turned on. I’ve come to accept that particular truth

over the last year.