From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout

Chapter 9
Sweat dampened myy skin as I dipped down and spun, the long, thick braid
of hair whipping around me. I kicked out, and myy bare foot connected with
the side of Vikter’s shin. Caught off guard, he staggered to the side as I
shot up beside him. He started to strike back but froze. His gaze dropped
to where I held the dagger to his throat.
The corners of his lips turned down.
I smiled. “I win.”
“It’s not about winning, Poppyy.”
“It’s not?” I lowered the dagger, stepping back.
“It’s about surviving.”
“Isn’t that winning, though?”
He shot me a sidelong glance as he dragged his arm over his
forehead. “I suppose yyou can look at it that wayy, but it’s never a game.”
“I know that.” I sheathed the dagger at myy thigh. Dressed in a pair of
thick leggings and an old tunic of Vikter’s, I walked across the stone floor
toward an old, wooden table. I picked up the glass of water and took a long
drink. If I could dress like this all dayy, everyy dayy, I’d be a happyy girl. “But
if it were a game, I still would’ve won.”
“You onlyy got the upper hand twice, Poppyy.”
“Yes, but both of those times, I would’ve sliced yyour neck. You got
the upper hand three times, but theyy would’ve been nothing more than
flesh wounds.”
“Flesh wounds?” He barked out a short, rare laugh. “Onlyy yyou would
think disembowelment a paltryy flesh wound. You’re such a poor loser.”
“I thought this wasn’t a game?”
He scoffed.
Grinning, I shrugged as I faced him. Dust danced in the sunlight that
poured through the open windows. The glass had long since been removed,
and the room was either draftyy and near frigid in the winter, or unbearablyy