From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout

“You didn’t ask nicelyy enough.” His hips pressed against me, and myy
skin flushed with rage. “You didn’t sayy please.”
There would be no wayy I’d sayy please. Consequences be damned, I’d
had enough. I was not his toyy. I was the Maiden, and while he was
incrediblyy faster and stronger, I knew I could hurt him. I had the element
of surprise on myy side, and myy legs were free. I widened myy stance as I
felt something damp and wet against myy jaw—
A scream tore through the alcove, startling the Lord enough that he
loosened his hold. I tore free and spun to face him, myy chest heaving as I
slipped myy hand through the slit in myy gown, to the hilt of the dagger.
The Lord muttered something under his breath as the screams came
again, high-pitched, and full of terror.
Taking advantage of the distraction, I darted out from behind the
curtain instead of unsheathing the dagger and slicing off what I was sure
was the Lord’s most prized possession.
The Lord threw aside the curtains as he stormed out, but the screams
were bringing others rushing into the banquet hall. Servants. Royyal
Guards. There was nothing more Lord Mazeen could do now. Through the
veil, myy gaze met his. I knew it. His nostrils flared. He knew it.
The screams came again, ringing out from one of the nearbyy rooms,
drawing myy attention. Two doors down, the door was open.
Ryylan was at myy side. “Pen—”
I skirted his reach and headed toward the sound. What happened in
that alcove with the Lord fell to the wayyside as myy fingers curled around
the handle of myy dagger. Screams were never a good sign.
A woman rushed out—the servant who’d been carryying the basket.
Her face leached of all color as her hand opened and closed against her
throat. She backed awayy, shaking her head.
I reached the room at the same time Ryylan did and looked inside.
I saw her immediatelyy.
She was lyying on an ivoryy-colored settee, her pale blue gown
wrinkled and bunched around her waist. One arm dangled limplyy off the
side, her skin the shade of chalk. I didn’t have to open myy senses to know
she felt no pain.
That she’d never feel anyything again.
I lifted myy gaze. Her head rested against a pillow, neck twisted at an
unnatural angle and—