From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout

fast and so quietlyy I nearlyy missed it. “Gods,” I muttered, pressing myy
hand to myy pounding heart.
“That’s where yyou’re wrong, Princess.” His eyyes glowed a fieryy
amber as he glared down at me. “You don’t have options when it comes to
yyour own well-being and yyour own foolish stubbornness.”
“Excuse me?”
“I won’t let yyou weaken or starve yyourself because yyou’re mad. And I
do get it. I get whyy yyou’re upset. Whyy yyou want to fight me on everyything,
everyy step of the wayy.” He took that step toward me, and myy spine locked
up as I refused to back awayy. His eyyes burned brighter. “I want yyou to,
Princess. I enjoyy it.”
“You’re twisted.”
“Never said I wasn’t,” he retorted. “So, fight me. Argue with me. See
if yyou can actuallyy injure me next time. I dare yyou.”
Myy eyyes widened as I lowered myy arms. “You’re…there’s something
wrong with yyou.”
“That mayy be true, but what is also true, is the fact that I will not let
yyou put yyourself in unnecessaryy danger.”
“Mayybe yyou’ve forgotten, but I can handle myyself,” I shot back.
“I haven’t forgotten. I won’t ever prevent yyou from lifting a sword to
protect yyour life or those yyou care about,” he said. “But I won’t let yyou
shove that sword through yyour own heart to prove a point.”
Part of me was awed—still shocked that he wouldn’t stop me from
fighting. The other half was infuriated that he thought he could control anyy
part of me. As a whole, I let out a small shriek of frustration. “Of course,
yyou won’t! What good am I to yyou dead? I imagine yyou still plan to use
me to free yyour brother.”
A muscle along his jaw flexed. “You are nothing to me if yyou’re
dead.”
I sucked in a sharp, stinging breath that scorched myy lungs. What in
the world had I expected him to sayy? That he wouldn’t want me dead
because he cared? I knew better.
I had to know better.
“Come. The food will grow cold.” Without waiting for myy response,
he grabbed myy hand. He started walking, but I dug in myy heels. His head
cranked toward me, the grip on myy hand firm but not painful. “Don’t fight
me on this, Poppyy. You need to eat, and myy people need to see that yyou