Heir in Exile (27 page)

“But why not? I mean, I know, I know, your mother was another woman--”

“Yes, she was. We took a saliva swipe from me as well and sent it along with Laur's. Helina definitely did not give birth to me, which, in the eyes of the court and the land, makes me a bastard, unfit to be King.” He slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks, the hem of his suit coat caught on his wrists.

Shocked, Chey searched Sander's face for clues on how he
really
felt. She couldn't decide if it was resignation or acceptance or something more maudlin that lurked in the blue of his eyes. “I just don't know what to say. Honestly, I thought for sure you would be the one. I can't believe, even with all the support of the people, they won't bend the rule this once.”

“If you bend or break a rule like this, then you have to start breaking them all. I understand their position, that they're bound by covenant and law.” He glanced down at his shoes, then back to her face. “It was close. They argued it for three hours straight, and I do mean argued. Many feel I should take the crown regardless. The diehard lawmen, though, they won the day.”

“And there's nothing else you can do? Nothing else you can say?” she asked, dismayed to the point she didn't want to drink the water now. But she did, in small sips, in case he spouted something unexpected and made her choke.

“I spent an hour pleading my case. There isn't anything else
to
say.” He looked at the pictures on the mantel, mouth quirking at a corner.

“So what happens now? Do you just...ride off into the sunset and lead a normal life? Will you be stripped of the title of Prince, have all your holdings revert back to the crown?” Chey asked. She set the glass down on a small end table and rested her hands on his hips, careful not to wrinkle the suit.

“They're deciding the semantics as we speak. Mattias is still in there, furious, fighting to at least have Kallaster castle remain mine. I don't ever think I've seen him that mad,” Sander said with a faint tick of his lips. He looped his arms low around her, staring down into her eyes.

“I'm so sorry. I really am. You fought so hard. What will the people think? What will they say when they find out? You had so much support last night.” Chey remembered the hundreds upon hundreds clogging the streets. Not just last night but this morning as word spread deeper into the countryside.

“I imagine they'll accept it as they know they must. As of last night, they still didn't know I'm a bastard.” He said the word with a wealth of distaste. “Once they realize, I think it will take the wind from their sails. The people know as well as we do that a bastard cannot ascend the throne. After all, this was part of the reason I had my 'marriage' annulled to Valentina. What a hypocrite it makes me if I don't accept what law the council passes down considering how vehement I was in my desire not to put someone else's blood on Latvala's throne. So it's come full circle, and the people will love Mattias as their new King as much as they would have loved me.”

“It's awful. I can't help it. Even I, a veritable stranger here, know you're the best one for the job.” Chey got on her tiptoes to kiss his chin. “But it doesn't matter to me what you are or aren't, as long as you're mine.”

Lifting his hands, he cupped each side of her jaw. Cradling her face like she was precious. He spoke low, resonant. “I know. I also know how much you hate not wearing your ring, so get and wear it. I'm going to make the announcement some time today.”

Chey searched his eyes. “Are you going to tell them about the baby, too?”

On his way to kissing her mouth, he paused. His eyes narrowed, features sharpening with intent. “
What?”

“I
said,”
she whispered, emphasizing the word, “are you also going to tell them we're having a baby?”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chey muffled a laugh when he suddenly picked her up, lifting her off her feet, and twirled her in a gentle circle. Then he kissed her like a man deprived of affection for years instead of hours. She saw instant joy replace all those other emotions he'd carried into the room. For this moment, at least, he allowed himself to revel in the news she had to give.

“How long have you known?” he asked, refusing to set her down.

“Only yesterday. I kept trying to tell you, but...too many things happened.” Chey wouldn't ruin this moment with mention of the attack at Mattias's home.

“Unbelievable. Are you certain?”

“Yes. I took two tests to make sure. Plus, there are other signs. Ones I completely missed with all the traveling back and forth and everything. I'm definitely pregnant.” Chey hoped the prospect of fatherhood would offset some of the disappointment she knew he was feeling about the loss of his Kingdom. It meant their child would never take the throne or rule after Sander, as she'd thought.

Sander's eyes gleamed, bluer than blue. “That's excellent news. I want to step up the wedding then, make it sooner than later. Is that all right with you?”

“Yes, it's fine with me. We can make it a small affair, since I doubt many in your family will want to attend anyway.” Chey was under no illusion about that.

“We'll figure all that out later. How far along are you?” he asked, after kissing her again.

Chey licked the taste of him off her lips. “I'm not positive. Ten to twelve weeks, I think. I'll need to go to the doctor soon.”

“You'll have everything you need the second I'm done with these announcements. I have a news conference scheduled within the next two hours, and my family is waiting in another room to find out the details from this morning. Come with me,” he said, letting her slide to the ground.

“All right.” Chey couldn't hide from Natalia forever. Might as well get the showdown over with, so they could all get on with their lives.

Sander squeezed her before capturing her hand.

As he led her through the room, Chey picked up her purse from the table and followed at his side. During the short walk, she mentally prepared herself, promising she wouldn't allow Natalia to get her too riled up.

Up two flights of stairs, on the level where the Royals lived, Sander guided her to a set of carved double doors. He opened one, led her inside, and closed it behind them. Ten times the opulent splendor of the one below, the Royal sitting room consisted of lavish furniture, gilt accents and oil paintings in elaborate frames of their ancestors.

Paavo, with his black hair and green eyes, paced with clear agitation near the ornate fireplace, hands in the pockets of his slacks. Everything about him was neat as a pin: the tuck of his snowy button down, the knot of his royal blue tie, the crease along the pant leg. Even his hair, combed carefully back away from his face, had been styled to perfection.

Aurora, his betrothed, perched on the edge of a plush chair, hands folded demurely over one another on her lap. She was the picture of elegance and poise.

Gunnar, the youngest, the brother who most closely resembled Sander with his fair coloring, brooded on a lounger, one foot resting across the opposite knee. He had a tumbler in one hand filled with amber liquid. Krislin, his wife, sat nearby, darting worried looks between the others.

Natalia paced the room like a lioness on the hunt, obviously drunk, hurling what must have been curse words at Mattias's head.

Chey only understood it was offensive by the stark look of disapproval on Mattias's face.

“Oh, we're
finally
graced with his presence,” Natalia spat when she spotted Sander and Chey. “And he brought his little bitch with him. This is just
perfect.”

Paavo diverted course and headed straight for Sander. “Mattias will tell us nothing. What the devil is going on?”

“Why are father and mother being detained? Is this a coup, Dare? Have you lost your mind?” Gunnar asked, pushing off the lounger. Although he had a drink in hand, Gunnar was in full possession of himself.

Sander slowed to a stop at the head of the room, hand wrapped around Chey's. “Calm yourselves. I'm going to give you an abbreviated version of the whole. You can pick my bones clean for details later.” He paused to glare at Natalia. “Mind your tongue, sister, or I'll have you locked and secured in your room, as well.”

Natalia snarled. Aurora gasped.

“So it's true, then? You had them detained?” Paavo said. His skin picked up a ruddy hue, as if he was containing a mountain of anger.

“I did. You see, he sent a team to murder your eldest brother, the
true
heir to the throne. I'm sad to announce Aksel succeeded in that quest,” Sander said.

Gasps of shock circled the room. Paavo and Gunnar talked over each other, crowding closer to Sander, demanding answers.

“You're lying! There is no elder brother, we would have known!” Paavo shouted.

“Dare, what is this you say? Why, then, were we not informed?” Gunnar asked.

Sander edged in front of Chey, blocking her with his body when his brothers grew too close. A blatant warning that they come no closer.

“Listen and learn, and stop interrupting.” Sander, who sounded on the edge of irritation himself, continued. “Aksel and Helina were pregnant at the same time as my mother, who is
not
Helina. Aksel and Helina will not admit that's the case. They keep insisting she faked her pregnancy for me, so that she could graciously take her husband's bastard child in as her own.”

Sander snorted to show what he thought of that notion.

The entire room went silent and still. Even Natalia, wearing a shocked expression, stalled out by the side of a sofa.

“Laur Ahtissari, their firstborn, a boy child terribly disfigured, was sent off to a place in the East woods,” Sander paused to let that sink in, “where he was raised—imprisoned, more like—for the rest of his life. My guess is that when he was born, they decided he could never rule not only because of his disfigurement, but because they didn't know whether his brain had also been compromised. Honestly, I'm surprised they didn't kill him then.”

Chey glanced at Mattias when he began moving from person to person, showing them images from his phone. Images of Sander and Laur the night he visited Mattias's house. The recognition on each face, from the brothers to the women, proved there was no disputing the familial resemblance.

“Chey, by accident when the King's men came after her, discovered Laur's existence. We obtained DNA samples and also some from Helina to prove he was her child. The tests were a positive match. I submitted mine as well at the same time, and there is no doubt the Queen is not my mother. In that, at least, the King told the truth.” Sander squeezed Chey's hand.

She squeezed his in turn, letting him know she was fine. It was difficult to watch each child roll through the wave of emotions that came with each new revelation. Shock, belief, resignation. That the brothers were distressed over the circumstances could not be denied. Gunnar especially looked beside himself.

“Mattias and I went to rescue Laur—and others like him—from the building last evening. But Laur had escaped first, fleeing to Mattias's country holding where he was gunned down in cold blood, all to keep the people of Latvala from knowing what the King and Queen had done. Because I believe Aksel has abused his power as King, I had him detained. After a long meeting this morning with the council, they have decided Mattias will ascend in Aksel's wake instead of me.”

Silence hit the room next. The only sound came from the fireplace, where a log cracked, throwing red hot embers against the grate.

Mattias, the only person in the room beside Chey not surprised by the news, pushed his phone back into his pocket. “You'll need to leave for the public announcement shortly,” he reminded Sander.

Finally, with a voice that shook with disbelieving anger, Paavo said, “I find it suspicious that father leaves the throne to me, and suddenly, Mattias is named the successor after a clandestine meeting
you
arranged, Dare.”

Sander narrowed his eyes, as did Mattias. It was Sander who replied first. “Did you not hear a thing I just said? Your beloved King
murdered
his own child.”

“He was no brother I ever knew!” Paavo declared, moving from an even tone to a shout.

Chey twitched with surprise.

“Are you so desperate to lead, then, that killing innocents mean nothing to you?” Sander asked, his voice gone silky, edged with something dark.

“Of course it means something to me. I, however, did not have the luxury of ever meeting this Laur, so you'll forgive me if my attention turns to the living. Namely the millions of people counting on this family to rule,” Paavo said, features reddening with indignation.

“Mattias is the natural next in line anyway. The only reason you were named is because Aksel knew Mattias had deceived him in the end and was aligned with me. He used you as he's used the rest of us, Paavo. Your place in the natural order of things puts you far out of the running for position of King, a position, I might add, that you are not ready for.” Sander stared Paavo down.