Page 88 - Fourth Wing

“Guess that means you’re not worried about academics,” Rhiannon says,

her brows rising at me. She’s chosen a leather vest, too, but hers cuts in
above the collarbone and secures at her neck, leaving her shoulders bare for

movement.

“Stop circling each other like you’re dance partners and attack!”
Professor Emetterio orders from across the mat, where Dain watches

Aurelie and Ridoc’s match with our squad executive leader, Cianna. Thank

God Dain’s shirt is on, because I don’t need another distraction when it’s
time for my turn.

“I’m worried about this,” I tell Rhiannon, tilting my chin toward the mat.

“Really?” She shoots me a skeptical look. Her braids are twisted into a
small bun at the nape of her neck. “I figured as a Sorrengail, you’d be a

hand-to-hand threat.”
“Not exactly.” At my age, Mira had been training in hand-to-hand for

twelve years. I have a whopping six months under my belt, which wouldn’t

matter as much if I wasn’t as breakable as a porcelain teacup, but here we
are.

Ridoc launches toward Aurelie, but she ducks, sweeping out her leg and
tripping him. He staggers but doesn’t go down. He pivots quickly, palming

a dagger in his hand.

“No blades today!” Professor Emetterio bellows from beside the mat.
He’s only the fourth professor I’ve met, but he’s definitely the one who

intimidates me most. Or maybe it’s just the subject he teaches that has me

envisioning his compact frame as giant. “We’re just assessing!”
Ridoc grumbles and sheathes his knife just in time to deflect a right hook

from Aurelie.

“The brunette packs a punch,” Rhiannon says with an appreciative smile
before glancing my way.

“What about you?” I ask as Ridoc lands a jab to Aurelie’s ribs.
“Shit!” He shakes his head and backs up a step. “I don’t want to hurt