fourth wing xadens pov

chapter 6

Chapter 6: Shadows

This night always takes such careful planning, even with every rebellion kid sworn to secrecy. There’s over forty of us in Basgiath now, almost double last year and we can’t gather in groups larger than threes without it being considered an act of treason against Navarre.

It takes longer than it should to co-ordinate, relying on a handful of us finding enough quiet moments to whisper instructions to the first-years in a way that causes the least suspicion.

My stomach is in knots as I walk silently with Imogen along the riverbank winding towards the trees we’ve picked as this year’s rendezvous point. It’s difficult to concentrate, my shadows spread out through the quadrant, trying desperately to ensure everyone makes it out without alerting anyone to their absence. I only realise we’re at the trunk of the oak tree, when Imogen lowers the hood of her cloak, the bright flash of pink hair catching my eye.

“Did everyone make it out?” she asks, her eyes fearful.

“Yes,” I say and she physically untenses, letting out a long-held breath.

“There’s just so many of us, it makes me nervous. What if-“ she trails off, and I know she is thinking about last year. The dead eyes of the boy whose neck she’d snapped when he just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Your signet makes it easier now,” I remind her. Between us we’re a formidable duo for this sort of operation; my shadows can get them out, and she can wipe the memories of anyone that sees us along the way. 

She nods tight-lipped and looks out towards the river. I follow her gaze to watch the other rebellion kids follow the same path we just took.

There’s the smallest snap of a branch above me, and my shadows edge out, winding around the tree on instinct. Noises in the forest are nothing to worry about, particularly not at night with countless animals scurrying through its depths.

I flinch when my shadows find Sorrengail clinging tightly to the trunk, just a few feet above us. My stomach twists. Gods, was I right about her all along? I should kill her now, yank her down from the tree onto the ground in front of everyone as they arrive.

Fuck, no. Spy or no spy, I could never face Brennan again after I murdered his sister in a public execution. If I’m forced to kill her, I’ll do it one on one, just so I can live with myself afterwards.

My shadows thicken around her. It doesn’t matter what she hears at this meeting, she won’t live to report it back to Command.

But the shadows pause, whispering back to me and taking on a mind of their own. Look at the bag tied to her waist, they strain. It’s filled with berries, they urge. They snake up the tree without my direction, spreading out to the top-most branches, where more of these same purple berries hang heavy on the ivy winding through the tree’s canopy.

I have absolutely no idea what to make of it. What possible reason could she have to be out in the middle of the night picking berries in the forest? But it hardly fits the story of her as a spy for her mother either… do I really think that she somehow discovered the location of this secret meeting and got hungry while she waited for us all to arrive?

And then it dawns on me. There’s a very simple way to know exactly what side she’s on here. If I let her hear just enough, I can see how she reacts at the end of it. I’ve always been good at reading people; it won’t take long for her to spill her secrets when I have a dagger to her throat.