From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout

Ascension. Apparentlyy, I’ve been too easyy on yyou.” The gleam in his eyyes
brightened. “Unfortunatelyy, that means yyou require yyet another lesson.
Hopefullyy, it will be yyour last, but somehow, I doubt it.”
Myy fingers spasmed where I twisted them. Anger rose so swiftlyy, 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, myy control slipping. “Hopefullyy.”
He cut me a sharp look and a long, tense moment passed. “I believe
four lashes should suffice.”
Before I could remind myyself who I was, what Teerman was, furyy
burned through myy blood, seizing control. Nothing he’d taken me to task
for mattered. None of that had anyything to do with the Descenters and the
Dark One being behind myy attempted abduction and Ryylan’s murder. The
gods blessed the Ascended with near immortalityy and unfathomable
strength, and theyy spent their time worryying about who I was speaking to?
I couldn’t stop myyself. “Are yyou sure that’s enough? I wouldn’t want yyou
to feel as if yyou 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 yyou,” he said. “What do yyou 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 myy chin high, it took everyything in me to walk past him and
not layy him flat on his back. That was the worst part as I walked to the
shinyy, 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 easilyy knock him flat on his
back.
But then what?
There’d be more lessons, and word would make its wayy back to
Queen Ileana. She’d be disappointed, genuinelyy so, and unlike the Duke, I
cared about what the Queen thought and felt. Not because I was her
favorite, but because it had been she who had taken care of me as a
wounded, terrified child. Her hands had changed myy bandages and held me