A cursed metal tail.
He was exactly as described.
There was no doubt about it. This was the one he’d been looking for.
Amun Kazharan.
The eldest son of the emperor and empress. Xalikian’s brother. The one presumed dead.
The one who called himself emperor.
He was supposed to be vicious, cruel, arrogant, and probably unhinged.
That was all in the description Dragek had been given.
So why was he just sitting there, head back, eyes closed, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, as if he were asleep?
Even though Dragek knew he wasn’t.
He was just resting.
Was he really so unguarded right now?
This felt too simple, but then again, most assassinations were like this—anticlimactic.
Most times, his victims were caught unaware. Like all Silent Ones, Dragek used the elements of stealth and surprise to his advantage. There was no long, drawn-out fight. No time to summon the guards or pull a plasma gun.
Sometimes, they died before they could even register his presence.
He moved forward, walking on the balls of his feet, quietly drawing his long daggers.
Until he reached the chair and its occupant.
He moved around to the front and brought the edge of his blade against Amun’s neck, taking great care not to actually touch him.
Now, Amun was one wrong move away from sudden death.
With his ka’qui, Dragek saw Amun’s strange metal tail. It curved to one side, resting alongside the Kordolian’s left leg.
Sleek, encased in metal, with a sharp barbed tip that was obviously made for violence, it was undeniably dangerous.
He’d never seen anything like it.
He didn’t like it.
He needed to incapacitate it.
Time to work.
Time to reveal himself.
Thud! With great power and precision, Dragek slammed the tip of his second dagger right through Amun’s metal tail, impaling it against the chair.
At the same time, he let go of the qim, revealing himself.
He wasn’t even exhausted.
And the Mating Fever, although still very much present, was slightly subdued, thanks to him channeling so much of that pent-up energy into holding qim.