# CHAPTER 21: The Weight of Secrets and the Fire of Change
Hello everyone, it’s me again! How are you all doing? I hope you’re ready to dive back into the treacherous, dragon-filled world of Basgiath. Today, I will continue to walk with you and review CHAPTER 21 of "Fourth Wing" — a chapter where old loyalties are revealed, whispers of war slip through the cracks, and Violet begins to see that nothing in this world is as simple as she once believed.
---
The morning started with a familiar ache in Violet’s shoulders — not from training, not from the bruises that never quite healed, but from the tension that crackled in the air every time a marked one walked through a room. The hostility toward Liam and his kind was becoming glaringly obvious to her now, uncomfortably so. She watched as the Archives keeper, Pierson, hurried to open the door, his eyes avoiding Liam’s face as if fear itself had a name. Violet couldn’t hold back her question anymore.
“How do you do that?” she whispered to Liam as they waited by the table. “Handle when people are that rude without reacting?”
Liam, ever the teaser, drummed his fingers against the cart. “You’re rude to me all the time.”
“Because you’re my babysitter, not because...” Violet couldn’t finish.
“Because I’m the son of the disgraced Colonel Mairi?” His jaw ticked, and for a heartbeat, the mask slipped.
Violet’s stomach sank. She realized, with no small amount of shame, that she was no better than the people she’d just condemned. She had hated Xaden Riorson on sight without knowing a single thing about him. And even now, he remained infuriatingly inaccessible — a wall of shadow and secrets.
Liam scoffed, earning a glare from a scribe in the corner. “He has that effect on people, especially women. They either despise him for what his father did or want to fuck him for the same reason. Depends on where we are.”
“You actually know him, don’t you?” Violet craned her neck to look up at the tall, handsome shield. “He didn’t just pick you to shadow me because you’re the best in our year.”
A grin flashed across Liam’s face. “Just now catching on, huh? I would have told you that on the first day if you hadn’t been so busy huffing and puffing about the pleasure of my company.”
Violet rolled her eyes just as Jesinia approached, hood over her hair. The shy smile that curved on the scribe’s lips, the way her gaze darted up to Liam, and the wink Liam signed back with practiced ease — all of it made Violet want to warn him. Jesinia wasn’t the kind of girl for casual flings. She was long-term material, and in a world where most people in the Riders Quadrant didn’t live long enough to make plans, Violet felt protective of her friend.
“Flirting with Jesinia,” she hissed. “She’s a long-term relationship woman, so unless that’s what you’re looking for... just... don’t.”
Liam’s eyebrows flew to his hairline. “How does anyone think long-term around here?”
“Not everyone is in a quadrant where death is less of a chance and more of a foregone conclusion,” Violet murmured, breathing in the scent of old parchment and paper. The Archives had always been her sanctuary. Now it felt more like a memory of a person she used to be.
Liam’s gaze swept the room with an intensity that almost made her laugh. As if someone was going to jump out of the shelves and attack her. “You wanted to be a scribe when you grew up,” he said.
“How did you know that?”
“I did my research on you when I was... assigned.” He shook his head. “I’ve seen you practicing with those blades of yours, Sorrengail. Riorson was right. You would have been wasted as a scribe.”
Violet’s chest swelled with pride despite herself. “What did you want to be when you grew up?”
“Alive.” Liam shrugged.
The simple, dark honesty of it made her throat tighten. She asked how he knew Xaden, and his answer unraveled a history she hadn’t known existed.
“Riorson and I were fostered at the same estate after the apostasy,” he said, using the Tyrrish term for the rebellion.
“You were fostered?” Violet’s mouth dropped open. That custom had died six hundred years ago.
“Well, yeah. Where did you think the kids of the traitors went after they executed our parents?”
Violet looked out over the sprawling shelves, searching for an answer that wouldn’t come. She had been too lost in her own grief to think mercifully about the people who’d caused her brother’s death. The burning of Aretia had never sat well with her, though. And as Liam spoke, she realized how much the history books had left out — or deliberately erased.
His father, Isaac Mairi, had not been on the death roll for the Calldyr executions. Violet knew that roll by heart because she’d needed to see one name on it: Fen Riorson, the man who killed her brother Brennan at the Battle of Aretia. But Liam’s father had been executed separately, at their family home, in front of Liam. And little Liam and his even younger sister were then separated and sent to foster in different houses.
“They separated you?” Violet’s jaw practically unhinged.
Liam nodded. “She’s only a year younger than me. I’ll get to see her when she enters the quadrant next year. She’s strong, quick, and has good balance. She’ll make it.” The edge of panic in his tone reminded her painfully of Mira.
“She could always choose another quadrant,” Violet said softly, hoping to soothe him.
Liam blinked at her. “We’re all riders.”
“What?”
“We’re all riders. It was part of the deal. We’re allowed to live, allowed a chance to prove our loyalty, but only if we make it through the Riders Quadrant.” He stared at her in bewilderment. “You don’t know?”
Violet shook her head. She knew the children of the leaders were forced into conscription, but a lot of those treaty addenda were classified. Liam explained that some believed it was a mercy — the chance to rise in rank — while others figured the death rate was so high that the leaders hoped to kill the marked ones off without doing it themselves. And they had been sure no dragon with self-respecting honor would ever bond one of them.
“How many of you are there?” Violet asked, thinking of her mother, the commanding general, and wondering how much she knew.
“Sixty-eight of the officers had kids under the age of twenty. There are one hundred and seven of us, all who carry rebellion relics.” Liam paused. “The oldest is Xaden. The youngest is almost six now. Her name is Julianne. She was born with the mark.”
Violet felt sick. It was a cruel life sentence on innocent children. And yet, as always, Xaden’s ruthless shadow loomed over everything — including the uncomfortable fact that she had been assigned Liam as a bodyguard because she was, apparently, essential to Xaden’s survival.
“Is it hard for you to be in here?” Liam asked, changing the subject. “Or is it more of a comfort thing?”
Violet took in the rows of tables, the scribes preparing for work, and imagined her father among them. “It’s like coming home, but not. And it’s not that it’s changed — this place never changes. But I’m starting to realize that I’ve changed. I don’t quite fit here. Not anymore.”
“Yeah,” Liam said, and something in his voice told her he understood.
Jesinia reappeared with a cart loaded with requested tomes and one scroll for Professor Markham. As Violet leaned forward to take it, her high collar shifted. Jesinia gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
“Oh gods, Violet. Your neck!” Her hands moved sharply, and the sympathy in her eyes made Violet’s chest tighten. She quickly covered the ring of yellowing bruises.
“It’s nothing.”
They left the Archives, and Liam, ever-intentional, changed the subject again. “Riorson taught me to fight during the years he was at Tirvainne. I’ve never seen anyone move the way he does. He’s the only reason I made it through the first round of challenges. He might not show it, but he takes care of his own.”
“Are you trying to sell me on his finer points?” Violet asked as they climbed the stairs.
“You are slightly stuck with him for...” Liam made a face. “Well, forever.”
“Or until one of us dies,” Violet joked, but it fell flat.
Then she asked the question that had been gnawing at her all week. “How can you do this anyway? Guard someone whose own mother oversaw the wing that captured yours?”
“Wondering if you can trust me?” Liam flashed an easy grin.
“Yes.”
He laughed, the sound echoing off the tunnel walls. “Good answer. All I can say is that your survival is essential to Riorson’s, and I owe him everything. Everything.”
The cart hit a raised stone, and the scroll on top tumbled to the floor. As Violet hurried to retrieve it, the thick parchment unrolled. A single sentence made her freeze.
*The conditions at Sumerton are of particular concern. A village was ransacked and a supply convoy looted last night.*
“What does it say?” Liam asked.
“Sumerton was attacked.” She checked for a classified mark. There wasn’t one. “A raid on a supply convoy. And community storage ransacked. But we have a trade agreement with Poromiel.”
“A raiding party, then.”
Violet thought of the rising attacks along the southern border, the descriptions of villages torn apart wherever the wards weakened. The text on the page seemed to morph, and an immense, incredible hunger struck her — a gnawing emptiness that demanded to be appeased with blood.
“Sorrengail?” Liam looked over, concern etched between his brows.
“Tairn’s awake,” she managed, clutching her stomach.
*“Such a morning person, aren’t you?”* The dragon’s voice was dry, and the hunger lingered like a threat.
*“Such a morning person, aren’t you?”* The hunger dissipated as Tairn dampened the bond.
Violet asked Liam if it ever got easier, being tackled by what one’s dragon was feeling. Liam winced, admitting it was supposed to improve once they could channel and shield. But Professor Carr wasn’t going to bother with them until that happened. Violet wondered if she’d ever get there. Andarna was still sleeping after using too much power to save her.
*“I think he has commitment issues,”* she whispered about Tairn.
*“I heard that.”*
*“Then stay out of my head.”*
Another wave of hunger assaulted her. *“Don’t be an ass,”* she snarled, and she swore she heard the dragon chuff a chuckle in response.
---
That afternoon, as first-years from Second and Third Wings poured through the turret stairwell, Rhiannon grumbled about wanting to be “like the cool kids” — those who had already channeled and manifested signets. Ridoc, ever the comedian, tried to claim ownership of a physics test, Rhiannon promptly deflated him, and Violet laughed as they squeezed into the briefing room.
The room was buzzing with energy, but no one had to stand anymore. Their numbers had decreased exponentially in the last four months. So many empty chairs. Another first-year had died yesterday, too close to a Red Scorpiontail on the flight field — one second standing, the next a scorched patch of earth.
Violet’s scalp prickled. “Riorson just got here,” Liam said from her right, carving a little dragon figurine. “Figured.” Violet held up her middle finger without turning around. Liam snorted. “And now he’s glaring. Tell me, is it fun pissing off the most powerful rider in the quadrant?”
“You could try it yourself and find out.”
“That’s going to be a no from me.”
She lost the battle with her self-control and looked over her shoulder. Xaden was seated in the top row beside Garrick, looking bored. He gave Liam a nod. Violet rolled her eyes and faced forward.
“I swear, you’d think there were assassination attempts on me during every class with the way he makes you shadow me,” she muttered.
“In his defense, people are fond of trying to kill you,” Rhiannon said.
“One time! It’s happened one time, Rhi!”
“Right. And what would you call that whole thing with Tynan?” Rhiannon arched a brow.
“Threshing.”
Then came the teasing about Liam’s shameless flirting, about Violet’s supposed sexual frustration, and Ridoc’s unending supply of dick jokes. Violet laughed despite herself. For a moment, the weight of everything lifted.
But then Ridoc made a comment about how Violet was “protected at night now,” and Violet’s smile vanished. “What do you mean I’m protected at night? Because you’re next door? Please tell me he’s not making you sleep in the hallway.”
“No. He warded your door the morning after the attack,” Liam said. “I’m guessing he didn’t tell you?”
Violet’s heart stumbled. He warded her door. So only she could open it. It was more than slightly controlling — and way out of line — but also... sweet. And also, if he warded it, he could still get in.
“Right. You see, I’m still adjusting to that little change of heart,” Violet said, fumbling her quill. It clattered to the floor. Before she could lean over, the shadows beneath the arm of her desk lifted the instrument like an offering. She plucked it out and looked back at Xaden. He was locked in conversation with Garrick, not paying her a speck of attention.
Except, apparently, he was.
Professors Markham and Devera walked down the steps, and Markham placed the very scroll Violet and Liam had delivered that morning onto the podium. Devera announced that the winners of this year’s Squad Battle would receive not only bragging rights but a trip to the front lines to shadow an active wing. Cheers broke out around them.
“So if we win, we get a chance to die sooner?” Rhiannon whispered. “Maybe they’re trying reverse psychology.”
But Violet’s focus was on Markham as he lifted his hand and the room quieted. “And now that we have your attention. The front lines are relatively quiet today, so we’re going to take this opportunity to dissect the Battle of Gianfar.”
Violet’s quill hovered above her notebook. Surely he didn’t say that.
The mage lights rose to the Cliffs of Dralor, shining on the ancient stronghold along the southern border. “This battle was pivotal to the unification of Navarre, and though it happened more than six centuries ago, there are important lessons that still impact our flight formations to this day.”
“Is he serious?” Violet whispered to Liam.
“Yeah. I think he is.”
The discussion continued — gryphons and dragons working together, the first cross-bolt, the annihilation of the army of the Barrens. Violet looked left and right, watching riders take notes, knowing an entire village of Navarrians had been ransacked last night along the very border they were analyzing. None of them knew. And no one was mentioning it.
“Was that scroll marked classified?” Liam asked under his breath.
“No,” she responded just as quietly. “But maybe I missed it?” The battle map didn’t even show activity near that mountain range.
“Yeah.” Liam nodded, scratching his quill. “That has to be it. You missed it.”
Violet forced her hand through the motions of writing about an ancient battle. Liam was right. That was the only possible explanation. Their clearance wasn’t high enough. Or maybe they hadn’t finished gathering information for an accurate report.
Or it had to have been marked classified. She just missed it.
---
The rest of November passed without mention of what happened at Sumerton. By the time the howling winds brought snow in December, Violet had given up hoping command would release the information. Liam and she couldn’t ask the professors directly without incriminating themselves for reading what was obviously a classified report — even if it wasn’t marked. It made her wonder what else didn’t make it to Battle Brief. But she kept that to herself. Between that and her growing frustration over her inability to channel — unlike three-quarters of her year — Violet was keeping a lot to herself these days.
*“Not entirely,”* Tairn grunted.
*“No comments from you, not after you almost let me hit the side of a mountain today.”* Her stomach churned just thinking about how far he had let her fall. Another first-year hadn’t been so lucky. She lost her seat during a new maneuver and ended up on the death roll that morning.
Then the world shifted — or rather, Violet did. Rhiannon swung her bow staff, and Violet threw her weight into a backbend, narrowly escaping the strike. To her absolute surprise, she kept her balance on the training mat.
Maybe she was changing. Maybe she was learning to survive.
But with snow on the ground, secrets in the shadows, and dragon fire in her blood, Violet had the sinking feeling that the real challenges hadn’t even begun.
---
## Reader’s Impressions & Star Rating
This chapter was a quiet storm. It didn’t have a massive battle or a brutal challenge, but the emotional depth hit hard. We finally get a heartbreaking look into Liam’s backstory, the cruel fate of the marked ones, and the dark truth behind the rebellion’s orphaned children. Xaden’s hidden moments — warding Violet’s door, lifting her fallen quill with shadows — made my heart skip, even while his secrets pile higher. And the Sumerton scroll slipping through the cracks? That’s a punch of political intrigue that this story desperately needed.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 4.8 / 5 Stars
## Next Chapter Prediction
Now that Violet has seen the cracks in the official narrative — that Sumerton was kept out of Battle Brief and marked classified-but-not — I predict she’ll start digging deeper. With Tairn increasingly restless and the bond growing more intense, we might finally see Violet channel, or at least get dangerously close to the truth about the war with Poromiel. And with Xaden’s protection becoming more overt, the walls between them are bound to crack before too long.
To listen free the next reviews chatpers, please access website novelsaudio.com and search keyword: Fourth Wing or click the link in the description of this video or if you want to listen or read full the Fourth Wing please access website novelsaudio.com