Alya

“Should I get the Wingleader?”
― Rebecca Yarros, Fourth Wing

“You’re not going to handle me?” I call after him, shock raising my brows.
“Not tonight!” he tosses over his shoulder.
I scoff. “What are you waiting for?”
“It’s no fun if you expect it,” he answers, striding into the darkness. “Now, get back to bed before your wingleader realizes you’re out after curfew.”
“What?” I gawk after him. “You’re my wingleader!”
― Rebecca Yarros, Fourth Wing

“One generation to change the text. One generation chooses to teach that text. The next grows, and the lie becomes history.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Fourth Wing

“Violet Sorrengail,' she whispers, moving closer. 'Are you wearing Riorson's flight jacket?'

Liam's head snaps in my direction, curse his stupidly good hearing.

'Why would you say that?' I do a shitty job of feigning shock and shove the sheaths into every available pocket in this thing. All three of them, which are considerably deeper than the ones in my own jacket.

'Oh, I don't know. Because it's huge on you and there are three stars right here?' She taps where there's only one star on her uniform.

Well, shit. Just goes to show that neither of us was thinking clearly.

'It could be any third-year's.' I shrug.

'With a Fourth Wing shield on the shoulder?' She cocks an eyebrow.

'That does limit it a bit,' I agree.

'And a wingleader emblem beneath those stars?' she teases.

'Fine, it's his.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Fourth Wing