Dravi snarled, “You are!” and lunged.
Rastaban locked an arm across Dravi’s throat and sank his weight into it. Dravi made a choking sound.
“If you really were Rami’s son,” Rastaban said, “you’d be willing to do what I’m about to do.”
“I’m his blood!” Dravi spat, heaving.
“And I’m his legacy,” Rastaban said. It was quick after that - a good sharp blow to the temple sent Dravi tumbling to the ground. Rastaban knew he couldn’t afford too much blood on his hands, so he kicked Dravi in the ribs to keep him down. Then he reached for an icicle.
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