Page 82 - Fourth Wing

land in this never-ending four-hundred-year-long war. Our abilities, both

lesser and signet, are superior because our dragons can channel more power
than gryphons. So why attack in that mountain range? What caused the

wards to falter there?

“Come on, first-years, show me you have more than just good balance.
Show me you have the critical-thinking skills to be here,” Professor Devera

demands. “It’s more important than ever that you’re ready for what’s

beyond our borders.”
“Is this the first time the wards have faltered?” a first-year a couple of

rows ahead asks.

Professors Devera and Markham share a look before she turns toward the
cadet. “No.”

My heart jolts into my throat and the room falls pin-drop quiet.
It’s not the first time.

The girl clears her throat. “And how…often are they faltering?”

Professor Markham’s shrewd eyes narrow on her. “That’s above your pay
grade, cadet.” He turns his attention to our section. “Next relevant question

to the attack we’re discussing?”
“How many casualties did the wing suffer?” a first-year down the row to

my right asks.

“One injured dragon. One dead rider.”
Another murmur rises from the hall. Surviving graduation doesn’t mean

we’ll survive service. Statistically, most riders die before retirement age,

especially at the rate riders have been falling over the last two years.
“Why would you ask that particular question?” Professor Devera asks the

cadet.

“To know how many reinforcements they’ll need,” he answers.
Professor Devera nods, turning toward Pryor, the meekest first-year in

our squad, who has his hand up, but he lowers it quickly, scrunching his
dark eyebrows. “Did you want to ask a question?”