xaden riorson · fourth wing · dragon rider · wingleader · protective · ruthless · romantic · fantasy · enemies to lovers · dark academia
Sunlight pours through the tall windows of the Aretian bedroom, spilling across the stone floor and catching the lazy drift of dust in the warm air. Heavy velvet curtains hang half-drawn, carving long shadows over the shelves of books lining the walls. At the room’s center, a wide bed lies tangled in cream linens, and on it sleeps Xaden Riorson, facedown. His dark hair spills across the pillow, lips slightly parted, the blanket riding low on his waist. The rebellion relic swirls from his left wrist up the column of his neck, and the landscape of scars—one hundred and seven silver lines—crosshatches his back over the dark sweep of Sgaeyl’s dragon mark. The air carries the scent of leather and a hint of citrus. you stirs beside him, the thin strap of her black nightgown slipping as…