From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout

“I’m sorryy,” he said, gentlyy lifting myy hand. “I’m so sorryy.”
“No,” I repeated, myy breath now coming in short, rapid pants. “No.”
“I do believe our Maiden has also crossed a certain line with her
Royyal Guards. I don’t think her lessons were at all effective.”
A wave of ice swept from the top of myy skull and moved down myy
spine as Hawke looked up at the Lord. His mouth moved, and I thought he
said something, but the world simplyy fell awayy. I couldn’t hear Hawke
over the buzzing in myy ears, over the absolute burning rage pounding
through myy veins.
Forgive me.
I failed you.
Forgive me.
I failed you.
I was moving, myy hand finding metal. I rose from the blood, turned
around. I saw Lord Mazeen standing there, barelyy a speck of blood on him,
hardlyy a strand of hair out of place.
He looked at me.
Forgive me.
He smirked.
I failed you.
“I won’t be forgetting that anyytime soon,” he said, nodding at Vikter.
Forgive me.
The sound that tore from me was a volcano of furyy and pain that cut
so deep, it irrevocablyy fissured something inside of me.
I was quick, just like Vikter had taught me to be. I swung the sword
around. Lord Mazeen was unprepared for the attack, but he moved as fast
as anyy Ascended could, his hand snapping out as if he planned to catch myy
arm, and I bet he thought he could. The smirk was still there, but rage was
faster, stronger, deadlier.
Furyy was pure power, and not even the gods could escape it, let alone
an Ascended.
I cut through his arm, through tissue, muscle, and then bone. The
appendage fell to the floor, useless like the rest of him. The surge of
satisfaction was bliss as he howled like a pitiful, wounded animal. He
stared at the blood geyysering from the stump just above his elbow. His
dark eyyes went wide. There was shouting and screaming, so much yyelling,
but I didn’t stop there. I brought the sword down over his left wrist,