The Sins of an Heir

THE SINS OF AN HEIR MK LORBER The Sins of an Heir By MK Lorber Copyright © 2023 by MK Lorber Published by Three Pom Press ISBN e-book: 978-1-7359717-4-2 ISBN Paperback: 978-1-7359717-5-9 Cover Design by Bianca Bordianu at Moonpress/moonpress.co All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental. To the squares who don’t fit— Forget changing your shape. Instead, sharpen your edges. CONTENTS Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Epilogue Acknowledgments CHAPTER ONE Borderlands of Midpointe, The Militia Territory Present day… There were two kinds of people in the realm — those who arrived late and those who arrived fifteen minutes early. Then there were the gods with their sense of humor, favoring relationships between the two. Midafternoon sun highlighted the fresh coat of wax on Maia’s bedroom floors. Four gleaming posts framed a simple cream-colored quilt on her bed. It would be hours before she could crawl beneath its familiar embrace. She sighed. Maia was a champion of schedules. Her friends, sweet and carefree, wouldn’t recognize a timepiece if it whacked them in the eye. They often teased her about her punctuality. She often put them in an affectionate headlock for their tardiness. “If you’re on time, you’re late,” was her father’s favorite adage. Arrive before everyone else. Work hard. Leave last. Hurry to the next duty. Repeat. It had served her well as she rose through the ranks of Morvak’s militia. First as the only female soldier to complete training. Now as a lieutenant and an assistant trainer to her commander, Gavyn. The only deference she received was this small space she used for her private quarters. While Xavier, the territory’s leader, thumbed his nose at tradition and allowed her to join the ranks, he drew the line at her sharing bunks with the men. At first, the separation bothered her. It took years to earn the fighters’ trust and acceptance. While the additional barrier made her task more difficult, it didn’t take long to appreciate the privacy. Besides, her room connected to the barracks, so she was never far from her comrades. “Bollocks.” She fumbled the bindings on her leather cuff. A graduation gift from Xavier to match the mark on her neck, she never left her room without the pair. “Come on. Come on. I don’t have time for this.” Maia was never late. And today, when her entire territory traveled to the Castle to witness Gavyn’s fight in the arena, was not the moment to start. But a first-year fighter had approached her after morning training, inquiring about a particular take-down he couldn’t master. Then a group of third-year students asked her to observe their sparring. She coached from behind the ring ropes, yelling pointers, stopping the match to fix stances, or demonstrating a new counterstrike. Her stomach grumbled. She’d missed the nooning meal, too. As she scooted forward on her stool, she glanced at her reflection in the vanity’s looking glass, muttering. Her hair was still damp from her hasty dip in the stream. She tossed her second cuff back in its box and fashioned a lopsided plait. Knock. Knock. Knock. What now? Who was still here? “Just a moment,” she called out as she pinned the tail of her braid. Most left the compound with Xavier and Gavyn, traveling the half-day trek to the Castle as a contingent. Only the kitchen staff and a few fighters on patrol remained. Perhaps they found something. Or someone. There was evidence of a person lurking around the compound. Whoever it was knew their way around, eluding capture. When they caught him… Maia ground her teeth. She stood, snatched her other cuff, and padded across her room. Maia opened the door with one hand and struggled to tie the bindings with the other. Gah. She looked down at the offending bit of cord. Her first mistake. A large body slammed into her. They fell to the ground, twisting in the air. Her attacker took the brunt of the fall, but the impact still forced a gasp. Maia’s world spun. One minute she glimpsed a burlap sack obscuring his features. The next, her shoulder blades dug into the wooden floor, and rough fabric abraded her cheek. She wedged a forearm against his neck and swung at his face. The sloppy hook failed to land. His chest pressed against her, trapping one arm between them. He secured the other above her head. She bucked against his weight. If she could create some space between them, she could wedge a knee and make him sorry he ever dared to tangle with her. “You coward. Take off that mask and fight me.” Panic loosened her tongue. She shouldn’t goad him, yet she couldn’t stop herself. “Or does shame keep your beak and feathers covered? You yellow-livered chicken.” Breathe. Think. Think. Think. He was male based on size and feel. Bigger than a trainee but a stone leaner than Gavyn. A muscular build filled out a faded black tunic and all too common fighting leathers. If she could just— Maia shifted her weight and rounded her shoulders. Ahh. If she could just free a hand, she