The more Chey investigated Kallaster Castle, the more she fell in love with it. After a shower and a change into jeans topped by a heavy sweatshirt of white, she'd gone in search of Mira for directions to the kitchens. Mira, in her thirties with blonde hair and pretty green eyes, finally allowed Chey to get her own lunch when Chey assured her that she didn't mind making it.

Expansive and running the same gray stone theme as the rest of the castle, the kitchens were enormous and offered everything a person could want in the way of food preparation. Chey found the makings for salad and a tuna sandwich in one of two oversized refrigerators. It didn't take her long to eat and learn the different rooms of the kitchens. There was a section for pastries and baking, another for grilling and cooking. Then a whole other partition for storage, a wine tasting room and separate large refrigeration units big enough to hold food for a party of five hundred people.

Beyond the kitchens, Chey discovered a hideaway patio covered with trellis overlooking a small garden with foliage that was probably lush and green in the spring. The hallways inside, some furnished more than others, led to medieval looking parlors, sitting rooms and a library with a two story ceiling. All sorts of nooks and crannies could be found near stairs, at the end of hallways and attached to a few of the sitting rooms.

On the upper floors, many open areas sported balconies giving different views of the island. Some faced the mountain peak, others faced the ocean and the bay. After three hours of exploring, she still hadn't seen it all.

Back in Sander's room to await his arrival, she started in on the closet organization, taking him at his word that it was all right to do what she wanted with her 'side'. Or sections. There was more than one wall to mess with. Smaller niches broke off the main closet with more space to hang clothes or arrange other articles, such as scarves, coats and sweaters. It was so different and charming than anything she'd ever done that she completely lost track of time.

“I see you didn't let any grass grow while I was gone,” Sander said behind her.

Chey fumbled the folded sweater she had in her hands and whipped a look over her shoulder. Grinning, she set the sweater on the stone shelf and turned around.

“Of course not. This was too good of an opportunity to waste.” She searched for clues about how his day had gone, but the only difference Chey could define was three buttons on his shirt undone that hadn't been before up near his throat.

He shucked the jacket and walked it to a hanger on his side, then finished undoing the buttons and peeled the shirt from his shoulders. The skin beneath was golden despite the season, muscles rippling whenever he moved. He tossed the shirt into the laundry basket and undid the buckle at his waist.

“Looks like you got most of it organized,” he said with a glance over his shoulder. The belt slithered free. He hung it on a rack with no less than twenty other belts.

“Most of it. There is an apartment room full of space left,” she said, as if he wasn't aware.

He smiled, though it lacked his usual devilish charm.

That was Chey's first indication that his mind was set toward more serious thoughts. She couldn't really blame him. “How did it go with Mattias?” she asked.

Sander bent over to remove his shoes, socks and then his slacks. A pair of black boxer briefs hugged his hips, leaving nothing to the imagination.

Any other time, Chey might have taken advantage of the situation. Or at least tossed a tease his way. Today she remained quiet.

“Three days,” he said. The slacks went the way of the shirt, as well as the socks.

“Three days?” she echoed, frowning. “What's in three days?”

“When we blow this thing wide open.” He glanced at her while he took a pair of jeans from a shelf and put them on. Leaving the zipper down and the button undone, he reached up to rake both hands through his hair, pulling the band free of the tail.

Chey watched the transformation from Prince to rugged Sander with no small amount of appreciation and awe. It was a distant appreciation, however, because the news made Chey's stomach clench.

“How are you going to do it?”

“The King informed us today that he will be officially naming me heir to the throne.” Sander tugged a ribbed sweater the color of slate and slid it over his head.

“I thought you were already the heir?”

“I am, for all intents and purposes. But there are rituals, things to make it official. He'll make a state address, so that there is no guess work for the citizens of the country.” Sander's mouth tightened. He found fresh socks and boots to slide his feet into.

“Why do I have the impression that there's more to the story?” she asked. With each new revelation Sander gave, his demeanor changed, subtly growing darker.

“Because that little bitch went to him and confessed she's pregnant,” Sander retorted, anger edging his voice. “She told him it's mine.”

---

---

It wasn't often Chey heard Sander curse—at least in a language she understood. This time, she echoed the sentiment in her mind. Valentina was going for broke.

“How could she do that?”

“Easy. She told him it happened on that visit I paid her, when we were set up in Italy.” Sander straightened and finally buzzed the zipper up and fastened the button on his jeans.

Chey remembered hearing about that when she'd first arrived in Latvala. The eldest brother had been wooing some woman the Queen wanted him to make his wife. Helina must be gloating for all she was worth.

“Does this change anything?” Chey asked. She couldn't see her way around the complications, wasn't sure how it might affect Sander. Or her.

“It moves the schedule up faster than we wanted, but we'll work with it. The sooner the better, before Valentina pulls something else out of her hat that puts the whole thing in jeopardy.” Sander reached for Chey's hand and led her from the closet, snapping the light out along the way.

Chey followed to the side bar, where he released her to pour himself a drink.

“Want something?” he asked.

“No thanks. I had a whole bottle of water with lunch not too long ago.” Chey swiveled to sit in a nearby chair and pulled a leg up to tuck beneath her.

“Did you decide how you're going to break the news?” she asked then.

“The announcement will be televised. He'll do it from here, since this holding will officially become mine. Once he makes his statements, I'll be expected to step up and make a few of my own. That's when I'll do it.” He knocked back a drink, hissing in the aftermath.

“Oh. On television?” Chey's eyes widened.

“Yes. Mattias is even now coordinating with a producer to play parts of the Valentina tape on cue. It's risky though. Damn. It's very risky.” He licked his lips and leaned a hip against the side table.

“Because you're not sure you can trust the producer?”

“That, and Latvala has not seen a scandal like this in a long time. It's not nearly the scandal some monarchies face, but it's more than I care for. It'll have far reaching implications, some of which I worry we haven't thought of, and therefore didn't take into consideration.” He finished the drink and set the glass aside.

Chey hadn't thought about the possible international fallout. Deals could be reneged on, countries might cut ally status—any number of things. Although she thought that was more likely to happen to Weithan Isle than Latvala, considering Valentina was the manipulative one. And the King, but it didn't sound as if Sander was going to out him to the public. She could hardly blame him.

“Do you think people will think less of you for taking this route? Announcing her deception on television?” Chey asked, when that idea presented itself.

“It's possible. I'd like to think people will believe I'm doing this in the best interest of Latvala, rather than for myself. We can't have the country ruled by someone else's bastard. It could cause the collapse of the country should that child decide to wreak havoc later in life.” Sander tongued his teeth and shook his head.

“It's risky, too, because the King won't know what you're doing. So he'll be on camera, right? His reaction will be broadcast for all to see. I imagine he won't be happy about that,” she said.

“Not even a little bit happy,” Sander replied. “Valentina will be there as well. She has no idea it's coming. She thinks this whole thing will exalt her into a whole other stratosphere, celebrity wise.”

Chey cringed inwardly. She would not want to be Valentina when that betrayal came out.

“She should have thought about her manipulations beforehand. Never mind crowing about it in public, how she was using you.” Chey paused, then asked, “What excuse are you giving her about not sleeping in her bed?”

“The most obvious one. That I'm angry about the way she trapped me into marriage. I've told her she'll get my attention when I'm good and ready to give it, and not a second before. She knows better than to push me too far.” He brought his attention back to Chey. His gaze lingered on her eyes.

“It'll all be okay. I think it'll work out how you want it to. It's just the details and things in the meantime.”

Sander looked thoughtful. He pushed away from the side table and approached. Once he stood right in front of her chair, he cupped her jaw in his hand and stroked his thumb over the arch of her cheek. “The details are what will make or break it. I'll make sure we get you somewhere safe while they're here.”

Chey stared up at his face and tilted her cheek into his touch. “I was about to ask you if there was somewhere discreet I could watch and still not be seen.”

“Yes,” he replied with a wry grin. “On television.”