Fourth Wing

A dragon without its rider is a tragedy. A rider without their dragon is dead.

“Killing you wouldn’t be any trouble, Violence. It’s leaving you alive that seems to cause the majority of my trouble.”

“Should I get the wingleader?” Tairn flat-out laughs in my head.

“I’m over here keeping my hands and memories to myself because you asked me to, and you’re fucking me with your eyes. That’s not playing fair.”

What?” I gawk after him. “You’re my wingleader!”

I’m over here keeping my hands and memories to myself because you asked me to, and you’re fucking me with your eyes. That’s not playing fair.

So forgive me, but you’re about to be some of the bullshit that this place cuts away from me.”

“Fine. Walk me back.” I motion at Rhiannon to go on without me

“And you know how much that ass annoys me.”

“Annoys you?” Tairn chuckles above me, the sound like a chuffing cat. “Is that what you call it when your heart rate—”

“Don’t even start with me.”

“Any chance you guys have a copy of The Fables of the Barren?” Mira was right, I had no business bringing the book of fables with me, but it would be nice to spend an evening curled up with a familiar story.

Jesinia’s brow furrows. “I’m not familiar with that text.”