Page 97 - Fourth Wing

Dain slides one hand under my back, the other under my head, helping

me slightly upright so I can get the liquid down. It’s bitter like always as I
swallow, but I know it will do the trick. He settles me back on the bed and

turns to Winifred. “I don’t want her in pain—that’s why we’re here. But if

she’s injured this severely, surely we can see if the scribes will take her as a
late admission. It’s only been a day.”

As his reasoning for not wanting a mender sinks in, my anger is able to

pierce through the pain long enough for me to bite out, “I’m not going to
the scribes.”

Then I sigh, closing my eyes as a pleasant hum races through my veins.

Soon there’s enough distance between me and the pain to think somewhat
clearly as I force my eyes open again.

At least, I think it’s soon, but there’s a conversation going on I clearly
haven’t been paying attention to, so it’s obviously been a few minutes.

The curtain whips back and Nolon walks in, leaning heavily on his cane.

He smiles at his wife, his bright white teeth contrasting his brown skin.
“You sent for me, my—” His smile falters as he sees me. “Violet?”

“Hi, Nolon.” I force my mouth to curve upward. “I’d wave, butone
ofmyarms doesn’t workand theother feels realllllyheavy.” Good gods, am I

slurring my words?

“Leigheas serum.” Winifred offers her husband a crooked smile.
“She’s with you, Dain?” Nolon turns an accusing look on Dain, and I feel

all of fifteen years old again, being hauled in because I broke my ankle

while we were climbing somewhere we shouldn’t have been.
“I’m her squad leader,” Dain replies, scooting out of Nolon’s way so the

mender can get closer. “Putting her under my command was the only thing I

could think of to keep her safe.”
“Not doing such a good job, are you?” Nolon’s eyes narrow.

“It was assessment day for hand-to-hand,” Dain explains. “Imogen—
she’s a second-year—dislocated Violet’s shoulder and broke her arm.”