The Overlord's Heir (4 page)

Chapter 5

     Vaan wished
he could retire early to his room. The journey to Kaban had been a long one.
Several hours of traveling through desolate lands had given him plenty of time
to worry. Leaving Mikayla behind concerned him more than it should for such a
short trip. Before their mating, he’d traveled constantly, rarely spending more
than a few days at his home. Now, he could not imagine such.

     Warriors and
a few Warlords alike met him with loud cheers the moment they spotted him
crossing the compound on hapfe back. Guards stood at attention and raised their
large broadswords hilt up and blade down in the classic sign of surrender.

      Ramar, Merik
and Eatan sat up straighter in the saddle, their heads nodding at the familiar
faces in the courtyard. Every few feet, Vaan stopped to accept well wishes and
salutes from fellow Kabanians. Once he dismounted, it took him almost an hour
to make it to the hall and through the milling crowd. When he entered through the
massive double doors of his former home, the servants smiled broadly.

      Pride surged
in his chest. He’d built this place through blood and battle into a strong
fortress. Stone walls soared above with a ceiling designed to repel fire
attacks. Tapestries depicting hard fought battles of his ancestors graced the
walls. Richly appointed furniture fit for a King in the Galip blue and silver remained
the way he’d left it. Vaan lingered in the entry way, absorbing the emotions
coursing through him until his Warlords shuffled their feet behind him.

     Slowly, Vaan entered
the room where his life had changed three years ago. The central hall bustled
with activity as the compound overflowed with visitors and warriors alike in
residence to witness Vaan’s return. Anger, betrayal and guilt tugged at his
chest. The death of Thenl and Dakar tempered some of his anger but it left Vaan
no outlet for the betrayal he’d suffered at their hands. His mother’s death
still cut deep and he’d never got to thank her. She’d saved his life and that
of his best Warlords when they were falsely accused of murder.

      “All hail
the Overlord.”

      “All hail
the Overlord.”

      Heads bowed,
men and women dropped to one knee around him. Honor stood well in Vaan’s stead.
Thenl’s treachery could not touch all that Vaan had worked for. Glory and hard
fought loyalty maintained Kaban’s respect for his authority.

      The moment
of enjoyment was short lived though. After his initial pleasure at being home,
the evening dragged on. Tonight’s festivities were a celebration of sorts for
Vaan’s return and to pay homage to him as Overlord. He sat in the throne-like
chair he’d loved at one time and listened as Kabanians swore fealty to him once
more. After Thenl’s rule, they expressed gratitude at Vaan’s resurrection. Vaan
tried to pay attention but the noise in the central hall made it difficult to
hear anything other than roars of pleasure and the stomping of feet when
servants brought out more wine.

     Each time
Vaan sought to go to bed, someone distracted him. Glancing around, Vaan watched
Eatan’s head fall forward then jerk back when raucous laughter exploded nearby.
The Warlord’s mug of wine stayed full thanks to an enthusiastic greeting from
warriors formerly under his command.

     Ramar and
Merik disappeared not long ago, each with a woman in their arms. Living among
the Raasa cut down on all of their frequent sexual activities so being home
excited them. Vaan eyed the door leading to the upper levels and his former
bedroom. A servant nudged his hand and refilled his mug. The man in the
familiar blue and silver Galip livery smiled warmly at Vaan and bowed before
walking away.

     Saran approached
and clapped him on the back, his smile wobbly from drink. His brother toasted
him each time more warriors arrived in the huge central hall to greet their
Overlord. “I am pleased to have you here, brother.”

     Vaan nodded. “You
have done well.” And he had. Saran, with his twenty warriors, battled to regain
Vaan’s home on his behalf. Now all settled down awaiting the Overlord’s next command.
But all Vaan could think about was his pretty mate whom he’d left behind.

     “How is your
little Raasa?”

     Vaan allowed
a small smile to play about his mouth. Compared to the tall frames of
Kabanians, the Raasa were indeed smaller and lean of build. Everyone who met
Mikayla referred to her as his ‘little Raasa’. If Saran saw her now, he’d not
think her so little. “Mikayla is heavy with my youngling.”

     Saran dragged
over a chair to the left of Vaan’s throne and slouched in the blue cushions. He
raised his mug in Vaan’s direction, a drunken smile tipping his lips to the
side. “She will honor you with the birth of a fine warrior. How goes her
confinement?”

     Vaan rested
an elbow on the arm of his chair and leaned in his brother’s direction so no
other would hear. “The Raasa females do not seek confinement before the birth.”

     Saran’s black
eyes widened and his brows shot up. “You speak truth?”

     Vaan nodded.

     “What does
she…” Saran chewed on his thoughts and plunged forward. “What does she do? How
does she handle it?”

     Vaan wanted
to laugh but his brother’s question rang with sincerity. He thought on the last
six months, his mate’s pregnancy and all that he’d learned. “Mikayla cries.”

     Saran
snorted. The snort turned into a chuckle and soon both men laughed hard enough
to draw stares their way. When they managed to get their mirth under control,
Vaan added, “In truth, she continues to run of our home without pause. She does
it with a care for all. For her people, for my Warlords and anyone who crosses
her path. Mikayla cares for them with an open heart.”

     His brother
studied his expression closely and Vaan faced him squarely. He had nothing to
hide and felt no shame in the love he bared for Mikayla.

     “You are a
fortunate warrior, Vaan. I envy the happiness you have found.”

     Vaan grunted.
He knew not how to respond but Saran continued. “Think you, a time will come
when you live here in Kaban once more.”

     Vaan didn’t
hesitate. “No. My life is among the Raasa now. I will continue to enforce my
rule over the Warlords and warriors from there.” Vaan gave his brother a
considering look. Now was as good a time as any to test his brother’s feelings on
the plan he hoped to put in place. “I hoped you would stay in my stead and rule
as my right hand.”

     His words
sobered Saran. Finishing the drink, Saran voiced his next words slowly. “It is
an honor, brother. What of your loyal Warlords?” Saran straightened in his
chair, his eyes seeking Vaan’s men. Only Eatan remained, climbing unsteadily to
his feet. His flopping hand waved off help as he left the hall under the
influence of too much drink.

     Holding back
his humor, Vaan turned from the sight and thumped his fist on his brother’s
shoulder. “They have no desire to return to Kaban either.” His Warlords were as
content as he was without worry of constantly going out to battle.

     Saran’s black
eyes glinted. “I think we must speak further in the morn when my thoughts are
clear of wine.”

     A smile
curved Vaan’s lips. The answer was as good as a commitment as any. He trusted
Saran’s heart and was sure Kaban would remain strong under his brother’s
leadership. “I agree, brother. What of the Council? Your letter mentioned their
desire to meet with me in the morning tide.” Though Vaan would love to avoid
them, he knew they played an important part for Kaban.

“They would not
speak freely with me.” Saran sighed, glancing around the room before facing
Vaan. His voice lowered further. “They have not replaced your uncle Dakar’s
seat yet.”

Vaan resisted the
urge to spit on the floor signaling his disgust with the man he’d once shared a
bloodline with. “Continue. What more do they seek with me?” Because Vaan knew
nothing was ever simple with the five member Council. Or four, at least, until
they selected the new Councilor.

“I can not guess
the minds of men who think with trickery,” Saran admitted.

As Vaan feared, it
sounded as if the Council had not changed their ways. “I will deal with them in
the morn when they arrive.”

Vaan got to his
feet. Rest called to him and he would not delay. If all went as planned, he’d
be on his way home to his mate in two days time and that bolstered Vaan’s
spirit unlike any celebration ever could. “Tomorrow.”

     Saran nodded
but his attention wondered to a woman bending over to pick up a fallen dish.
The servant’s blue dress pulled tight across her full rounded buttocks. Vaan
shook his head in amusement and left the hall with minimum fuss.

     Vaan’s boot
clad feet stomped across the polished stone floor as memories overtook him. He
paced where Councilor Raiden had once stood and accused Vaan of murder.
Shoulders tight, Vaan glared into empty space. The Councilors would arrive in
the morn to recognize Vaan as the Overlord once more. He did not look forward
to the visit and the trickery they’d speak from their bitter mouths.

     Vaan leaped
up the steps of the curved gleaming wood stair case, passing a sleeping Eatan
on the first landing. The Warlord would regret his heavy drinking in the
morning. Vaan kept going and slowed when his feet approached the room he’d once
claimed as his own. He opened the door and paused. The space gleamed with its
spotless interior, the air scented with the heavy musk oils Vaan once favored.

      Walking
further into the room, he closed the door behind him and wondered when he’d
actually stopped thinking of this as home. Vaan crossed the rug covered floors
as thoughts crowded his mind. His steps led him to the main wall directly
opposite his bed. This wall represented his life’s work. Or used to.

      The
collection of weapons remained as he’d left them. Mounted on the wall with
precision and sharpened to a deadly edge, each blade was a handcrafted masterpiece
of swordsmanship. Nine of the finest swords rested side by side, seventeen
daggers with detailed hilts in intricate designs and five battle axes hung on
specially created hooks. Vaan traced a finger over the hilt of one of the
simpler knives. The hammered silver edge with its jagged teeth had served him
well in many battles.

     Vaan turned
away, the sight filling him with melancholy. The room he shared with Mikayla at
the Raasa compound smelled of flowers and berries. Her laughter lingered on the
air even when she wasn’t there and despite his complaints and threats, the sole
window often let in the bright shine of the day’s sun when she parted the
curtains.

    He sighed. As
the Overlord, loneliness often sat as his companion but things had changed and
he had Mikayla and their unborn young in his life now. Vaan missed her. With a
frustrated growl, he loosened the tie in his hair and let its length slide over
his shoulders. He stripped from his chest harness and rested his sword on the
upholstered chairs by the massive fireplace with its empty blaze. He considered
lighting it but the cool feel of the room offered a relief from the hot days of
Raasa.

     Vaan shoved
his leathers down his legs and kicked off his boots. When he climbed into the
bed, he expected the relaxing touch of his sheets. Instead, his hand landed on
soft flesh and his knee entangled with a slender limb.

     “Hettel!”
Vaan cursed and jumped from the bed. He rolled along the floor and came up with
his sword unsheathed and prepared to greet the enemy.

     Startled blue
eyes blinked up at him. “Be at ease, Overlord.” Pitch black hair fell about her
face and pooled in her lap. The voice low and lyrical flowed around him.

     “Neera, why
are you here?” The sheet slid to her waist, revealing bountiful breasts tipped
with dark berry colored nipples. Vaan remembered well the feel of those soft
mounds against his chest when they’d shared bed play.

     Neera tipped
her dark head to the side and smiled shyly, “I thought to welcome you. All hail
the Overlord.”

     Vaan lowered
his weapon and grimaced. He tried to imagine Mikayla waiting naked in his bed
and calling him by his title. A grin stretched his lips.
Never.
Never
would his mate call him such. Most especially not when they sought their pleasure
of one another.

    Neera must
have taken his grin for pleasure because she eased back on the bed among the
blue linen, exposing her nude torso. Her hands rested palms up by her head and
she stared intently at the ceiling.

     Vaan dragged
a hand through his hair and placed his sword on the side table. She flinched at
the sound of metal striking wood but never turned in his direction. He
approached the bed and studied her pose. When he’d taken her to his bed in the
past, she’d assume similar positions for his pleasure. Now, his toqa remained
soft along his thigh, his interest not stirred in the least.

     Three years
ago, he’d slept with Neera for three cycles and relieved himself frequently. Theirs
had been a union of mutual agreement. She carried the favor of the Overlord and
he’d appeased his sexual hungers.

In his mind’s eye,
Vaan envisioned Mikayla brushing her hair at the cluttered side table by their
bed. Head tilted to the side, she would smile in humor at his attempts to speak
her language. Naked or clothed, images of Mikayla brought him to hardness time
and time again.

     “Overlord?” Neera’s
voice rose on the end of his title.

     Shaking away
such arousing thoughts less she think he was tempted, Vaan reached out and
pulled the covers over her body. “You must dress and leave, Neera.”

     She jerked
from his touch with a soft cry. When she sat up, tears glistened on her lashes
and her brows lowered in a frown. “I am sorry, Overlord. I knew not what to do.”
She climbed from the bed and dropped to her knees inches from his bare feet. “I
will accept whatever punishment you deem.”