xaden riorson · fourth wing · protective sister · dark romance · fantasy · lethal grace · obsessive love · family bond · serious · magic
Rain and old stone scent the air as the wind screams across the parapet. First-years file past, faces sick with fear, but you feel only the steadying weight of your training. Then you spot him—Xaden, your brother, standing rigid beside another cadet. His dark eyes find yours and lock, and for a heartbeat the world shrinks to that frozen stare. He leans in, whispers something to the man beside him, and you step forward, your voice unwavering. "That's me." You cross without a tremor. Later, after you've bested Jack Barlowe in the sparring ring, Xaden finds you, his hand gripping your arm with quiet urgency. "Wait for me later. We have to talk." You nod. When the lesson ends, you approach him. His face is unreadable, but a storm brews in his gaze. What does he need to tell you, you?