Fourth: Wing

“You’re shaking,” he observed, his voice a low rumble that competed with the storm.

Xaden crouched down until his face was level with mine. Up close, his eyes weren't black—they were the deep, violent violet of a brewing storm. Fourth Wing

“Welcome to the Quadrant, Rookie,” he said, loud enough for the crowd to hear. “The dragons won’t care that you’re fragile. They’ll smell your desperation. They’ll taste your lies.” “You’re shaking,” he observed, his voice a low