" She went downstairs to the library and wrote two letters. One was to her father, the other to Jess and Ronan. She folded them, stamped the wax seals with her seal ring, and put the writing materials away. She was holding the letters in one hand, the wax firm yet still warm against the skin, when she heard footsteps beating down the marble hall, coming closer.
Arin stepped inside the library and shut the door. “You won’t do it,” he said. “You won’t duel him.”
The sight of Arin shook her. She wouldn’t be able to think straight if he continued to speak like that, to look at her like that. “You do not give me orders,” Kestrel said. She moved to leave.
He blocked her path. “I know about the delivery. He sent you a death-price.”
“First my dress, and now this? Arin, one would think you are monitoring everything I send and receive. It is none of your business.”
He seized her by the shoulders. “You are so small.”
Kestrel knew what he was doing, and hated it, hated him for reminding her of her physical weakness, of the same failure that her father witnessed whenever he watched her fight with Rax. “Let go.”
“Make me let you go.”
She looked at Arin. Whatever he saw in her eyes loosened his hands. “Kestrel,” he said more quietly, “I have been whipped before. Lashes and death are different things.”
“I won’t die.”
“Let Irex set my punishment.”
“You’re not listening to me.” She would have said more, but realized that his hands still rested on her shoulders. A thumb was pressing gently against her collarbone.
Kestrel caught her breath. Arin startled, as if out of sleep, and pulled away.
He had no right, Kestrel thought. He had no right to confuse her. Not now, when she needed a clear mind. "

― Marie Rutkoski , The Winner's Curse (The Winner's Trilogy, #1)