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

Erion lifted his head. “But Lord Chul, it is customary to offer tribute to the Lord of Larion Fortress. I would not wish to risk your displeasure by withdrawing my offer.”
    He bowed again, his tousled, sandy hair falling across his face. Erion held his feathered, velvet cap in one hand. Tarak saw his knuckles had turned white from gripping the cap so tightly.  
    “There’s no need for tribute here.” Tarak’s words were clipped, his impatience rising. “I’m not some petty Eratean Lord, coming to suck the last drop of blood from you, merchant. What need do I have for silks?”
    Tarak stood, pushing back the simple wooden chair. On his desk were piles of documents; ledgers, reports and titles. He had spent the morning trying to understand what exactly the Erateans had been doing in Varanada. Apart from collecting taxes and tithes and growing fat off the backs of the Varenese, he wasn’t sure if they had done anything at all.  
    Rounding the desk, Tarak moved to stand before Erion. The man shrank back, and Tarak sensed fear threading through his aura.  
    “Relax, Master Erion. There is no offense for not giving a tribute. The only favor you can do for me is to tell this to the rest of your guild. We are not here to rule you. My only interest is in driving out the Erateans.”
    Erion stared at Tarak in disbelief. “You require nothing from us?”
    “Correct.” Tarak patted the man on the shoulder. Erion grimaced, but at least he didn’t flinch. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to.”
    The man nodded, offered Tarak another flourishing bow, then retreated from the office with small, nervous steps.  
    Tarak paced across the room, stretching his stiff body. This was the part he hated the most. The bowing and scraping. The bureaucracy. He looked forward to the day when he could leave Varanada to be governed by its own people and return to Akuna. He missed the forbidding, snow-capped peaks of his homeland.  
    Suddenly, the small room seemed cramped. Tarak craved the outdoors. He wanted to move, to train.  
    He needed to spar.  
    Tarak was a fighter. Long hours spent in the office were stifling to him.  
    He’d chosen this small, officer’s room to the side of the Great Hall to receive his guests. The great hall was still adorned with Eratean banners. Then there was that ridiculous throne like chair in the centre. He didn’t see any point in all that pomp and ceremony.  
    More Eratean bullshit.
    As Tarak returned to his chair, the door opened and his assistant, Vicson, appeared. The normally composed Vicson seemed flustered. “Some ikana are here. They wish to see you, Lord Chul.”
    “Send them back,” snapped Tarak. “I don’t have any desire or use for courtesans I’m not allowed to touch, Vicson.”
    “Er, they’re rather stubborn, milord. They say they won’t leave without seeing you, and our men don’t want to er, manhandle them. The short one in particular, she’s quite insistent.”
    Tarak swore in Akuna under his breath. “Fine, Vicson. See them in.” He sighed. The last thing he wanted to do right now was pretend to be entertained by some painted ladies with their cloying silks and perfumes. “Let’s make this quick.”
    ~~~
    Amina gritted her teeth as she entered the room with the other two ikana . They were named Arin and Talia, and they were twins. Long limbed and graceful, they made her feel boyish in comparison. For the entire carriage ride to Larion Fortress, they’d sat across from her, silent and wide-eyed.  
    They had no idea why the Mistress had sent them to entertain the Warlord.
    Amina shuffled forward, her feet aching from wearing those damned wooden sandals. She felt constricted in the narrow dress that reached her ankles. It was embroidered with delicate, white butterflies. She felt awkward and clumsy behind the other two girls, who moved as if they were floating.  
    It was no wonder that the ikana trained for years to achieve that kind of