Free Heir in Exile by Danielle Bourdon Page A

English as if he realized Chey wouldn't be able to understand. “You actually saw him with a weapon? How can you be sure it was him and not someone else?”
    Chey's stomach flipped over. She covered her lips with her fingertips, stunned into silence.
    “There was no one else in the dungeon with them and he was still holding the bloody knife,” Sander said. He raked a hand back through his hair again, clearly unsettled. “Aksel said they weren't having a tryst, they were having an argument. She wanted permission to admit to me who she really was. Aksel disagreed.”
    “Wait—that woman, the one he killed, was your mother?” Chey asked on the back of a gasp.
    “Impossible,” Mattias said with an edge to his voice. “He's lying.”
    “That's what he wants me to believe,” Sander said, meeting Chey's eyes before looking at Mattias. “I said the same thing. He's lying. The King insists it's as he says. I threatened to find her grave, except he says he scattered her around.”
    Chey groaned at the implication. Scattered her around. Her body parts? It had to be. Or perhaps he dug her bones up and moved them all about later on. Sick at heart, disturbed in ways she couldn't believe, Chey curled her fingers near her mouth and fought to refocus on the conversation.
    “What about the people who birthed you? There will be witnesses,” Mattias said.
    “Dead,” Sander replied with a specific look at his brother.
    Mattias looked disgusted. “So he's attempting to use this to force you into exile. Yet I would wager ten years of my life that he will not publicly announce this. He's going to try and twist your arm and make you do it yourself, using whatever excuse you come up with.”
    “Exactly. He says I'll do it because otherwise, I'm a hypocrite for dumping Valentina for attempting to put a bastard on the throne—which is what he says I am.”
    Mattias's expression took a grim turn. “Technically, the title would go to their firstborn—his and Helina's—instead of his child with another woman. Except they publicly accepted you as their own all this time, and to renege on that now will cast their trust into a shadow they might not be able to shed later.”
    “I still think it's an excuse to get me to do what they want, without either of them suffering backlash for it,” Sander added.
    Chey glanced between brothers as they hashed it out, tension making her shoulders tight. For herself, she didn't care if Sander took the throne. It would save her thoughts of becoming Queen—a title she did not feel suited for anyway—and allow them to have something of a more normal life together. Yet Sander being forced to exile himself against his will rubbed her the wrong way, and seeing him so agitated tugged at her compassion.
    He was a good man, who cared about Latvala and its people. Invested mind, body and soul, no one would rule with as much passion as Sander. In Chey's eyes, he deserved to ascend the throne, even if Helina wasn't his mother. But she'd learned, if nothing else, that Royalty had their traditions and rules, and should they chose to exercise their right to enforce Sander's status as a bastard, they might keep him off the throne after all. Sander, she thought, would not find an easy answer here.
    “I'm with you. I would need some other kind of proof. After all this, it does seem far too convenient as far as timing is concerned,” Mattias said.
    “He says I'm to return tomorrow. That Helina, along with a confession, might have something that will convince me. No matter how I cajoled, he would not be swayed into showing or telling me today.” Sander slouched his elbows back onto the fireplace mantle, a recline that should have made him looked relaxed. He appeared restless instead.
    “What could she possibly have that would sway you?” Chey asked. She scoured her mind for ideas over what it might be.
    “I can't think of anything,” Sander admitted.
    Mattias remained silent, gaze cast to the floor in