fourth wing xadens pov

chapter 2

Chapter 2: Across

I watch Violet hovering on the outcropping, her hand holding her steady against the last crumbling bit of wall left for balance. She looks so unsteady and uncertain, pulsating winds already whipping the silver-tipped tendrils of her hair free of her braid.

I wait for the winds to ease, as she takes a first, tentative step. Wait for General Sorrengail to give me that tell-tale clue that she knows something about our plans.

But the winds only seem to be gaining in intensity, the rain lashing the parapet so heavy and hard that rushing rivulets of water are pouring off it on both sides.

I think of Brennan talking about his sister, the sheer love and affection shining in his eyes and realise I might have made a monumental misjudgement. That I could have sent this beautiful, innocent girl across the parapet to die. But short of yanking her back from the edge and delivering her to him personally in Aretia, I'm out of options.

Either, she's General Sorrengail's daughter in which case I need to hope she falls to her death. Or she's Brennan's favourite sister who I can't do anything to protect, without exposing everything we've worked so hard for.

I'm just going to need to watch this one play out.

Some hyped-up asshole who is next in line is jumping from foot to foot, cracking his knuckles in his fists. It's the kind of bravado that would usually equal death, but somehow there's always some that seem to sliver through the cracks. I know in my gut that he's going to survive. He looks like the type that wouldn't just laugh at people falling to their deaths but would gleefully push them.

I check the list to commit his name to memory: Barlowe. Whatever side of this war she's on, I want him nowhere near her.

"You better get going, Sorrengail." I say with a warning glare. Move. Now.

The asshole lunges at her and she moves, and I watch her walk out onto the exposed section of the wall.

Though the rain is pounding her in every direction, she looks slightly steadier than she did in the relative shelter of the outcropping. She's managing her fear. Sometimes the idea of something is more terrifying than the obstacle itself. Each step is measured, tested then placed. She's not too slow, or too quick.

Frankly, it reeks of careful training.

My shadows stalk after her, skittering through the shifting darkness the clouds cast over the parapet's walls. She's talking to herself. Words I can barely make out over the screaming winds, that still swirl around her in every direction.

"Navarre, my home, is the larger kingdom, with six unique provinces. Tyrrendor, our southernmost and largest province, shares its border with the province of Krovla within the Poromiel kingdom."

She's reciting... textbooks. My heart skips.

Suddenly I'm back in Aretia three years ago, carrying one of the younger kids to Brennan, the boy screaming with the pain of a leg broken in three places. I remember watching Brennan at work, calm and concentrated, his mouth moving and forming words I couldn't hear.

"That your own personal form of Mender's magic?" I said.

He just smiled at me and shook his head. "No magic, just facts. It keeps you centred, reminds you what's real and what's not. My sister Violet told me she did it when she was nervous and ever since... well, I find myself doing it too."

The way his eyes lit up when he said her name made my heart ache for him. While she might still be alive, his choices mean he's lost her just the same.

The memory settles in my stomach like evidence she is still exactly who he believes her to be. Brennan, who gave up so much to fight with us, to do the right thing, would want me to keep her safe. No matter what it costs me.