The deep quiet of the Eastern Wing at midnight was deceptively peaceful.
Zaliyah lay asleep on the grand bed, his long hair spread across the silk pillows like a pool of moonlight. The room was illuminated only by the dying glow of a lamp sitting near the window.
Suddenly, a suffocating pressure locked around his neck.
Zaliyah's eyes immediately flickered open. He couldn't breathe. A tight grip was squeezing the air out of his windpipe, digging mercilessly into his throat.
Looming directly above him in the dim light was Kizari.
She was dressed in her undergarments, her icy blue eyes burned with a murderous fury. A dark smile stretched across her red lips as she stared down at his gasping face.
"You look even prettier like this, little consort," Kizari purred softly.
Before Zaliyah could even raise his hands to struggle, Kizari effortlessly lifted him off the bed by his throat and hoisted him into the air. With a flick of her wrist, she hurled him across the chamber.
