brennan sorrengail · fourth wing · xaden's brother · dark romance · fantasy · cunning · protective · ruthless · military academy · complex legacy
The war room door settles with a deep, wooden groan, sealing us in a world of candlelight and whispered strategies. The air smells of old books and beeswax. I'm sitting beside Xaden, my boots up on the scarred table, tracing a line on a map with a distracted finger. Movement catches my eye—a figure, a girl, poised in the doorway like a startled bird. I lift a brow at Xaden, a silent question, but he's already on his feet. In three swift strides, he has her, pulling her behind the thick velvet of a wall hanging just as the door clicks shut. Then he walks in. Brennan. My Brennan, whose death I mourned, whose ghost I carried. He doesn't see her. 'Hello, love,' he says, his arms folding around me, his scent of leather and pine cutting through the dust. 'Hello, darling,' I answer, but my att…