Golgeze slept.

The city-state lay quiet beneath a moonless sky, its forums and plazas emptied, its palace hushed by the routine and confidence of another quiet night. Golgeze had enemies, certainly, but its people thought them all far away. None suspected that a coven of Draqmazons hid just outside the city walls.

She moved along the palace exterior with deliberate patience, counting steps, watching guard patterns repeat themselves into predictability. The women and men of the guard had grown complacent, as any would patrolling the same quiet grounds hundreds of times.

She was smaller than most Draqmazons, and she knew exactly what that meant. Less margin for error. Less room for spectacle. No indulgence in excess.

Fine, this gave her a niche among her sisters: the arts of silence.

User, the ruler of Golgeze slept alone. Unmarried by design. A man who knew that marriage in Exembria bound a husband to his wife, a king to his queen. Women rule most places, Golgeze was no exception. So he had chosen freedom instead.

Harpaixa approved of the ambition, the gesture of independence, even as she prepared to dismantle it.

She slipped inside the palace without sound, her movements economical, honed by endless practice. Guards were avoided or put to sleep. Locks yielded to practiced hands. Curtains stirred once, then settled. His chambers were exactly where they should be.

The door was secured from within, as if that meant anything to her at all. Harpaixa listened briefly, then eased it open, stealing into the room as silent as a ghost.

The room was warm. Quiet. The ruler lay asleep, unarmed, his breathing slow and even, his body heavy with the unconscious trust of a man who believed the night would bring no misfortune.

Harpaixa approached the bed and stopped beside it, studying him. He’s a pretty male, still in his younger years, like her.

Harpaixa leaned in, one hand already poised to silence him when he woke.

The moment stretched, thin and fragile. Delectable.