The Warlord and the Assassin: A Fantasy Romance Novella Read Online Free

disappointing,” he murmured, tracing imaginary battle lines with his finger. “I was told you were without peer in the art of assassination. But it is Tarak Chul, after all. Very well. You shall have until the new moon to ensure his death. I was hoping to deliver good news to the arriving reinforcements, but this will have to do.”
    Amina glanced down at Garul’s maps, but he had covered them with one arm. “Remember, Inue. If Tarak Chul does not die by your hand, I will see to it that your sister is stripped of her status and sent to a whorehouse in Fortuna. She will be lucky to survive to her thirties.” He grinned, a lewd expression crossing his face. “I may even pay her a visit myself.”
    Amina suppressed her rage, hating the man, but powerless in the face of his threats. When the Erateans had occupied Varanada, her sister had been training as an ikana, the most mythical and sought after of courtesans.
    Ikana were not prostitutes. They were to be seen and revered, but never touched.
    Mira had never possessed the spirit of a killer. Unlike Amina, she was graceful and refined, a gentle soul.  
    She had left their village at the age of sixteen and entered the secret world of the ikana . When the Erateans came, she had caught Garul’s attention. After several months entertaining the high ranking officers of the Eratean army, she had impressed one of the Emperor’s envoys.  
    Mira had gone willingly to the capital, Adalan, to entertain the Emperor himself.
    After she left, packages started to appear, delivered to Kotosh, an old Inue swordsmith who lived in Varanada Town. There were bolts of silk and precious gems and Eratean gold coins. Kotosh would deliver them to the village and they would be sold, to purchase grain and meat.  
    Mira’s packages helped the Inue tribe survive the Eratean occupation. For assassination was becoming a dying art, and the jobs were fewer and fewer, the commissions less generous.  
    Times had been hard in the hidden Chukol village.
    And because of that, Mira was trapped inside Eratea, working as a glorified slave.
    Amina hadn’t seen her for years. She wondered what had really become of her little sister, and she shuddered to think what the Erateans may have forced her to do.  
    “When this is done, Garul, you will return my sister to me.” Amina unleashed a sliver of her killing intent, forcing Garul to meet her gaze. She saw the briefest flicker of fear in his eyes, before it was quickly buried under a deceptively benevolent smile.  
    “Of course, Inue. Kill Tarak Chul, and the ikana will return, without a scratch. The Empire would owe you at least that much, if you delivered his head.”
    Fighting her revulsion, Amina nodded. “It will be done. But if any Eratean harms my sister before then, I swear to Imril that I’ll wear the death mask and come for you, Jerik Garul, and I will make sure your death is a slow and painful one.” To prove her point, she bent over the desk, a blur of motion, and held the tip of the short sword to Garul’s fleshy neck. He swallowed, and nodded.  
    “Just get it done, Inue, and no harm will come to her,” he rasped. “I have to tell you, however, that this is out of my hands now. The Empire has ordered it. And you cannot win against the Empire.”

CHAPTER THREE

    The streets of Varanada Town were eerily silent in the heat of the day. A night had passed since Amina’s meeting with Jerik Garul, and she had returned to Varanada, seeking another way into Larion Fortress.
    She had exchanged her assassin’s garb for a light, cotton sundress dyed the color of almost-ripe strawberries. A wide-brimmed straw hat concealed her characteristic Inue markings.  
    The Akuna hadn’t occupied the town. Instead, they remained camped on the eastern side, where the forest ringing the town gave way to mountainous terrain. They had the height advantage from up there, able to see beyond the Arama forest to the Varanada Plains. It was a strategic position.