Page 65 - Fourth Wing

The navy dragon seems to tilt its head at me, as if its narrowed golden

eyes can see straight through me to the fear fisting my stomach and the
doubt curled insidiously around my heart. I bet it can even see the wrap

binding my knee. It knows I’m at a disadvantage, that I’m too small to

climb its foreleg and mount, too frail to ride. Dragons always know.
But I will not run. I wouldn’t be standing here if I’d quit every time

something seemed impossible to overcome. I will not die today. The words

repeat in my head just like they had before the parapet and on it.
I force my shoulders back and lift my chin.

The dragon blinks, which might be a sign of approval, or boredom, and

looks away.
“Anyone else feel like changing their mind?” Xaden shouts, scanning the

remaining rows of cadets with the same shrewd gaze of the navy-blue
dragon behind him. “No? Excellent. Roughly half of you will be dead by

this time next summer.” The formation is silent except for a few untimely

sobs from my left. “A third of you again the year after that, and the same
your last year. No one cares who your mommy or daddy is here. Even King

Tauri’s second son died during his Threshing. So tell me again: Do you feel
invincible now that you’ve made it into the Riders Quadrant? Untouchable?

Elite?”

No one cheers.
Another blast of heat rushes—this time directly at my face—and every

muscle in my body clenches, preparing for incineration. But it’s not

flames…just steam, and it blows back Rhiannon’s braids as the dragons
finish their simultaneous exhale. The breeches on the first-year ahead of me

darken, the color spreading down his legs.

They want us scared. Mission accomplished.
“Because you’re not untouchable or special to them.” Xaden points

toward the navy dragon and leans forward slightly, like he’s letting us in on
a secret as we lock eyes. “To them, you’re just the prey.”