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 surge up on my toes and kiss him.

If Sgaeyl is right, and signets reflect who we are at our core, then I’m exactly as Xaden nicknamed me…Violence.

Tairn roars with the unmistakable sound of pride.

“Lightning wielder

“I hear it’s all the fashion,” Tairn brags.

“Turns out, about three days is their max.” Xaden steps out of the shadows.

week.” He shoots me a grin, revealing a dimple.

“And yet you’re still here. Every day. All day.” It’s not that I don’t like him. To my absolute annoyance, he’s actually…nice. Courteous, funny, and ridiculously helpful. He

“You’re making us look bad. Stop it.”