From Blood & Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,73

who are to become members of the Court. You must never forget that you are not like them. You were Chosen by the gods at birth, and they are chosen at their Rite. You will never be equals. You will never be friends.”

The words I forced past my lips scratched at my heart. “I understand.”

Teerman took another drink.

How much had he already consumed? My heart rate tripled. Once, when I’d upset the Duke, his lesson had been carried out after he’d indulged in what I’d heard the guards call “Red Ruin,” a liquor brewed in the Cliffs of Hoar. The Lord had been with him then.

That was the time he’d struck me, and it had taken several days before I’d been able to resume training with Vikter.

“I don’t think you do.” His tone hardened. “You were Chosen at birth, Penellaphe. Only one other has ever been Chosen by the gods. It was why the Dark One sent the Craven after your family. It was why your parents were slaughtered.”

I flinched once more, my stomach hollowing.

“That hurts, doesn’t it? But it’s the truth. That should’ve been the only lesson you ever needed.” Placing his glass on the table, he faced me while the Lord unfolded his legs. “But between your lack of awareness regarding overstepping boundaries, your lack of attention with Priestess Analia, your blatant disregard today for what is expected of you, and…”—he drew the word out, enjoying the moment—“the attitude you displayed yesterday toward me. What? You thought I wouldn’t address your behavior while we discussed Ryan’s replacement.”

The air I inhaled did nothing to inflate my lungs. That wasn’t his name.

“You stared back at me as if you wished to do me physical harm.” He chuckled, amused by the idea that I could do such a thing. “The meeting would’ve ended vastly different if others had not been present, and we weren’t there to discuss Hawke replacing Ryan—”

“Rylan,” I snapped. “His name is Rylan. Not Ryan.”

“There it is,” Lord Mazeen echoed the words he’d spoken the night Malessa had been found. He chuckled. “Not so demure now.”

I ignored him.

Teerman cocked his head. “You mean his name was Rylan?”

I sucked in air that seemed to go nowhere.

“And does it really matter? He was just a Royal Guard. He would’ve been honored that I even thought of him.”

Now, I truly wanted to inflict physical harm.

“Either way, you just proved that I must double my attempts to strengthen my commitment to make you more than ready for your Ascension. Apparently, I’ve been too easy on you.” The gleam in his eyes brightened. “Unfortunately, that means you require yet another lesson. Hopefully, it will be your last, but somehow, I doubt it.”

My fingers spasmed where I twisted them. Anger rose so swiftly, I was surprised that I didn’t breathe fire when I exhaled. That was the last thing Teerman hoped for. If he couldn’t find a reason to give me a lesson, then he’d have a complete breakdown.

“Yes,” I bit out the word, my control slipping. “Hopefully.”

He cut me a sharp look and a long, tense moment passed. “I believe four lashes should suffice.”

Before I could remind myself who I was, what Teerman was, fury burned through my blood, seizing control. Nothing he’d taken me to task for mattered. None of that had anything to do with the Descenters and the Dark One being behind my attempted abduction and Rylan’s murder. The gods blessed the Ascended with near immortality and unfathomable strength, and they spent their time worrying about who I was speaking to? I couldn’t stop myself. “Are you sure that’s enough? I wouldn’t want you to feel as if you haven’t done enough.”

His gaze hardened. “How does seven sound?”

Apprehension flickered through me, but I’d received ten before.

“I see that number agrees with you,” he said. “What do you think, Bran?”

“I think that is sufficient.” There was no mistaking the eagerness in his tone.

The Duke looked back to me. “You know where to go.”

Holding my chin high, it took everything in me to walk past him and not lay him flat on his back. That was the worst part as I walked to the shiny, cleared surface of his desk. The Ascended were stronger than even the most skilled guard, but neither Teerman nor Mazeen had raised a hand in combat since the War of Two Kings. I could easily knock him flat on his back.

But then what?

There’d be more lessons, and word would make its way back to Queen Ileana. She’d