The Overlord's Heir (10 page)

Mikayla wore a
thin robe of white silk, loosely belted at the waist and walked toward him. Her
lips pressed a soft kiss to his temple. “Is she hungry?”

“No.” If she was,
Arane would not have stopped crying. Everyone jumped to give her what she
wanted for quiet to reign.

Stepping behind
him, Mikayla placed her arms over his shoulder, one hand going over his where
he covered their youngling’s head, the other settling on his hair next to their
daughter’s small fingers. “Which one do you hold?”

Van grunted and
pretended to think. “I am never sure. You gifted me identical youngling.”

Her hand pulled
sharply on his hair. “Vaan!”

He hid his smile
by ducking his head. Arane shifted and blew wet bubbles on Vaan’s chest.

“They’re
beautiful, Mikayla. I can not thank you enough.”

“I love you.”

“You as well,
mate.” More than she would ever know.

Mikayla
straightened with one last stroke to his hair. “Now tell me truth. What
thoughts kept you in here instead of returning to our bed?”

He should have
expected her question. Miki refused to let him get anything by her. They were
both learning. “The King of Desani has invited us to his home for a visit.”

“And?”

She knew him too
well. “And I have accepted.”

“This is good,
Vaan. Do you think he’s serious?”

Vaan stood and
with quiet steps approached the youngling’s bed. Erana rested on her belly,
small butt poked in the air and elbows planted beneath her. He lowered Arane
next to her sister and the two curled toward one another in a move that never
ceased to amaze him. They slept as one, face to face. Vaan wondered if other
youngling behaved in this manner. Perhaps it was their Raasa bloodlines.

Vaan faced Mikayla.
“I think Tarik is very serious.”

The book that
started it all

Honor Bound

To save her people, Mikayla S'Apul has only two options:
Become a prize in the upcoming battle or take control of her fate. When a worn
journal falls into her hands revealing the secrets of a legendary group of
warriors, Mikayla realizes it holds the answer to her dilemma. A marriage of
convenience is the only way to protect the Raasa people.

Overlord Vaan Galip is the commander of the Warlord army
tasked with protecting Kabanians and bringing peace to his lands. Betrayed by
one of his own, joining with Mikayla S'Apul would provide her people with
protection while giving him the opportunity for vengeance. Falling for the
Raasa female was never part of his plans.

When a common enemy threatens, Vaan and Mikayla learn the
true depth of what it means to be bound not only by marriage but by honor.

Excerpt

“The
charge is murder.”

The
official red robes of a council member swayed about Councilor Raiden’s ankles
as he paced. Vaan stood before the head of the Kaban Council, unable to believe
the words he heard. Raiden couldn’t be serious. The hasty proceedings taking
place made a mockery of the very penalty system Vaan had instituted.

He
looked to his side, relieved at the stoic expressions on the faces of his
finest warriors. Pride filled Vaan at the sight. His men would give no one the
pleasure of witnessing their emotions. Each of his Warlords stood straight and
proud. Dark heads tilted in arrogance, black leather clad legs braced wide,
they appeared a fearsome group. They’d been stripped of their weapons upon
arrival but empty chest harnesses meant nothing. A Warlord defined deadly even
without a sword gripped in hand.

“How
do you plead, Overlord Galip?”

His
lip curled. Vaan Galip did not plead for any man. “I claim innocence of the
actions. My warriors harmed no one and I stand behind them.” His voice rang
loud and clear.

Grumbles
arose from the crowd which had gathered in the central hall of Vaan’s main
compound. Warriors and servants idled by, ignoring their tasks in lieu of
viewing the drama playing out before them. Vaan studied the expressions on
their faces as well. Some looked pleased, their eyes full of vengeance.
Ahal
it was the way of some. Others looked confused and doubtful as if they too,
could not imagine the claims against Vaan.

The
head of the Council slowed his strides in front of Vaan but maintained the
distance between them. Vaan counted on Raiden for the rare moments of clarity
from the council but today no such sign existed. “Can you be certain of this
claim?”

Vaan’s
fists clenched in the shackles they’d fastened on his wrists. His nostrils
flared at the insult the Councilor’s question implied. Vaan took a step
forward, separating himself from his warriors and drawing everyone’s attention.
How far would the Council and his uncle Dakar go and what purpose did it serve
to place murder at his door? “Do you doubt me?”

Councilor
Raiden shoved his hands in the pocket of his robes. “We but question the truth,
Overlord.”

Tension
radiated from Vaan’s men. Suppressed violence simmered in the air. They waited
to follow his lead, knowing the charges against them were frivolous at best.
Anane supported all nomadic tribes crossing their land with offers of food and
water. His Warlords knew Vaan would never send out an order for one of them to
decimate the entire village of innocent men, women and children. His Uncle and
the Council sought to ignite tempers.

When
Raiden passed a second time, Vaan’s gaze strayed to his uncle wearing similar
robes yet holding his silence. Vaan didn’t bother to hide his snarl. How dare
they question him? “I speak truth, Councilor Raiden. Ever have my actions been
for Kaban.” Another step placed Vaan directly in line with the path of Raiden’s
pacing. The muscles in Vaan’s arms flexed as he raised his bound hands. “I will
personally punish those found guilty.” Vaan turned to eye their nervous faces
after issuing the threat.

Councilor
Raiden jerked and paled. His infernal pacing came to an end. Shadows danced
behind his brown eyes as he sought Vaan’s uncle. Best they should fear him. All
of them, Vaan added as his gaze roamed over the men who made up the Kaban
Council. The five robed figures who sat on the Council were pompous fools and
never more so than now when they tried to lay claim to this atrocity at his
feet.

Vaan
kept Dakar in his line of sight to witness his reaction as well. His uncle’s
dark hair lay neatly about his broad shoulders. No marks marred a face eerily
similar to Vaan’s. His shoulders appeared wide beneath the elaborate robes of a
Council member. Vaan sneered. Dakar shamed the family name by choosing to sit
as a member of the Council instead of defending Kaban with his sword. His uncle
blanched when he dared meet Vaan’s gaze.

“Let
us waste no more time,” Vaan declared. If they truly cared about bringing
justice forth, they’d let Vaan and his Warlords seek out the true offenders.

Councilor
Raiden firmed his shoulders and faced the small gathering. Those allowed in the
hall to watch shifted on restless feet. “We will drink to health and long life
before proceeding.”

To
refuse would make Vaan look inconsiderate. A smug smile spread across Dakar’s
thin lips. It pleased him to hear an excuse to delay. Vaan cared not for
consideration but bid his time. He gave Raiden a terse nod, releasing his
consent.

One
of the house serving girls immediately came forward. She wore the blue and
silver colors of the Galip household. The ankle length dress hugged a curvy
figure Vaan well remembered. Neera removed the lid of the gold tray and
extended her arms, offering curved blue mugs bearing the stylized G of Vaan’s
seal. Other servants joined her with mug laden trays for the Councilors.

Vaan
stood, legs planted apart. Each Warlord waited on him for guidance. As their
Overlord, they made no moves without his approval. The Councilors, his uncle
included, stared awaiting his response. Fine. Vaan wanted to see this played
out and then he would reign terror on the perpetrators. “We drink,” Vaan
agreed. “But the matter will be resolved now.”

With
their hands tied in front of them, Neera carefully handed each of his Warlords
the mugs of hot wine. Vaan tossed his back in one swallow, his men following
suit. Neera quickly approached to collect the empty cups. When her blue eyes
met Vaan’s, they skittered away and the tray in her hands rattled. She made
haste in her escape.

A
frown tugged at Vaan’s lips. Neera and he ended their bed play mutually. She
had no cause to fear Vaan. He’d earned his reputation on the battlefield honestly
but voiced no complaints with his servants as long as they met his
expectations. All knew of the Overlord’s harsh dealings with those who
displeased him but he ruled with fairness when possible. His confusion with
Neera’s reaction re-enforced his rage. He did not make war on women and
children. These claims were ridiculous. Vaan renewed his vow to find the true
culprits. Nothing else would take priority.

“To
Honor,” his uncle cheered and finished his drink in one go as well.

The
other councilors sipped from their mugs, unused to hard drink. Huddled together
in a small group, they stood so close the hem of their robes brushed. Vaan
rolled his eyes at the visible display of their clannish ways. They appeared
like women hovering in a kitchen to share a moment of gossip.

Vaan
had enough of this farce. He straightened his shoulders and stared coldly at
his uncle. “Enough. You will present this proof you say you have and we will be
done with this matter.” Vaan suffered no love lost for his father’s brother. The
man believed his position on the Kaban Council made him invincible. For Dakar,
power truly had bloated his heart. If not for Vaan and his Warlords, the
Council would lose the prestige they loved to lord over everyone’s head, his
uncle included.

Dakar
glared at Vaan for the interruption before turning. He signaled one of the
warriors Vaan hadn’t notice entering the room. Vaan waited, knowing his face
revealed none of his inner emotions. Emotions which warned him to be leery of
his uncle’s machinations.

“Warlord
Thenl, speak before the assemblage and tell us your shame.”

Shame?
Vaan clenched his hands tighter in the bonds. Muted anger throbbed in his
chest. The warrior, Thenl, entered the hall and stepped forward to the front of
the assemblage. His blond hair, rare among Kabanians, lay in a tangle about his
bare shoulders. The customary black leather leggings appeared stained and
soiled as if he had traveled quickly. Thenl recently achieved Warlord status
despite Vaan’s desire for the youth to train longer. Something about him was
not quite right. Instead, Vaan had trusted Argan’s judgment, his top Warlord
and moved the young man forward in the promotion. Thenl had been given a troop
of ten warriors. The smallest contingent possible Vaan could assign him without
causing insult to his newly gained status.

Vaan
eyed the youth closely. Thenl’s smile caused a tug of foreboding in Vaan’s gut.
Thenl swaggered forward. He nodded to Dakar and then looked over Vaan and the
other restrained Warlords. His blue eyes glowed with a malicious light and his
mouth curved in a cocky smile. The look reeked of superiority. Vaan controlled
the urge to roll his eyes at the posturing. A true Warlord had no need of such
displays.

Acknowledgments

There are so many people to thank and I
can’t nearly name them all. I absolutely need to give special thanks to Sally
and Beth for taking the time to read The Overlord’s Heir and giving me their
insight before I moved forward to publish. And for the rest of you (you know
who you are), thanks for being there and supporting my efforts.

About the Author

Michelle Howard enjoys a crazy life
that involves wild kids, a loud dog, and a husband who tolerates the
madness.  Like many authors, she’s dreamed of writing since reading her
first romance novel many years ago.  She loves paranormal and contemporary
romances and is a fan of the classic romances, such as Judith McNaught and
Julie Garwood.

I love to hear from fans so please
reach out to me. If the mood hits you, leave a review on Amazon or Goodreads
.

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