At Least, Not Permanently

“You were a general,” Shanka said. “Between the three of us, you’re the least experienced. Now you’re just a grunt until you earn your place.”

Rastaban lunged at her. “How dare you speak such to me, you insolent woman --”

Her hand closed over his throat, and she squeezed. Fire raced through his limbs, and he struggled to breathe.

“You’d think, after the war you just fought, you’d know better than to insult me on the basis of womanhood,” Shanka said, her tone disturbingly casual. She rolled her eyes. “Stop squirming - lack of air won’t kill you. At least, not permanently.”