In a harsh voice very unlike his own, he asked. "What makes you so sure I'm the child in this picture? He looks- it could be anyone."
Weston smiled gently. "I am sure, my boy. Absolutely certain, even without the DNA. Do you see in the photograph, the way the infant's hand is open and touching-holding, one could almost say-the cup? When I saw the photograph I asked Lord Southgate to have the cup tested for fingerprints. Remarkable as it seems, they were able to match the prints left on this cup by that tiny hand…to yours, Nikolas. To yours."
Dazed and fighting for control, Nikolas cleared his throat and handed the photograph over to Lady Zara. Ignoring her faint gasp as she looked at it, he croaked. "How could-how did this happen? Didn't you-didn't anybody notice it wasn't the same kid?"
It was brutal, but he was beyond caring. Sometime during the past ten minutes or so, the relentless assault on his emotions had evidently achieved what all the scientific evidence in the world could not. Nikolas was no longer speaking to a king; he was merely a son like so many other sons, having heated words with his father.
Weston leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "Ah, yes. I assure you, I have asked myself that a thousand times since…all this came to light." He shot Nikolas a fierce glare. "I am certain it would not have been possible if your mother had been alive. She would have known her own child. But." His face spasmed with that same terrible grief, and he closed his eyes and shook his head. "But. shortly after I took that picture, she…there were complications. She was rushed into surgery, but she lapsed into a coma. Two days later, she was dead, and I-I'm afraid that in the days that followed I wasn't aware of much of anything. It was days-God help me, maybe even weeks-before I saw you-before I saw my son again. If I noticed changes, I wouldn't have thought anything of it- children change from one day to the next at that age."
"What about…I don't know-nurses, nannies?"
Weston's face hardened. "I imagine at least one of them had to be part of it, but they're all long gone, I'm afraid. Anyone who might have known about the switch is dead…" He paused and aimed his black stare at Nikolas. "Good God. You don't think-"
"I think," Nikolas said softly, "it's time Lady Zara answered my question. I'll ask it again. Where did you find the chest? And how?"
Mystifyingly, she blushed. Clearing her throat, she replied. "I'd rather not say how I found it. It's complicated, and… somewhat personal. Suffice to say, Walker-Dr. Shaw-and I found it in a vault under the collapsed ruins of an old pavilion on the grounds of an abandoned estate. The estate…" she glanced at the king and drew a steadying breath "…belongs- belonged-to Benton Vladimir, the Duke of Perthegon."
"Vladimir!" Nikolas exclaimed. "But…he's been-"
"Missing, yes-exiled, vanished." Weston said grimly. He waited a beat before adding in a deliberate tone. "For thirty years."
"Perthegon…" Nikolas shook his head, which was swimming with implications, with possibilities, with scenarios he didn't want to think about or look at too closely. Not now. Not now.
"Uh, excuse me." Rhia said, holding up her hand like a shy child in a classroom, "can somebody take pity on the ignorant American in the crowd and explain what all this means?" She knew quite a bit about recent developments in Silvershire, of course, and the name Vladimir sounded familiar, but she still felt like the only one in the crowd who didn't know the people being gossiped about.
Lady Zara gave a little spurt of laughter. Weston arched an eyebrow at Nikolas. "I believe we have time for a short history lesson. Professor Donovan, will you do the honors?"
She felt his reluctance like a stiffening in her own muscles as he turned toward her, and a shiver went down her spine at the hard, set look of his mouth, the cold glitter of anger in his eyes.
Empathy. Remember, it's not you he's angry with.
"The Duke of Perthegon-Lord Benton Vladimir," Nikolas began in a voice that grated with poorly disguised impatience, "was supposed to have succeeded Pritchett Dunford as king of Silvershire." He acknowledged his father the king with a formal little nod. "When Lord Henry Weston, Duke of Chamberlain, was chosen instead, this country was very nearly plunged into civil war." He paused to take a gulp of tea. When he continued he seemed to have relaxed a little, as if finding some small refuge from his rampaging emotions in the familiar role of teacher.
"The trouble began when King Dunford and his wife, Queen Eloise, were unable to produce an heir to succeed him on the throne. You know, of course-"
"A male heir, I assume you mean?"
"Any heir…actually." King Weston said, looking mildly amused at the interruption, as if Rhia had been a favorite child guilty of some minor misbehavior. "King Dunford and Queen Eloise had no children. If they had had, perhaps the issue of female succession would not have had to wait until this past decade to be resolved."
It was a moment before the meaning of that statement caught up with her. "You mean, a woman can-"
"Oh, yes, a princess can succeed to the throne," Lady Zara put in, glancing at the king with a smile of apology and sympathy. "It hasn't happened yet, but it will. Someday." She looked at Rhia…and winked.
"To return to our history lesson." Nikolas said, tapping a finger on the arm of his chair and looking stern. "In the Charter of Lodan, which was adopted in the thirteenth century following the Battle of Lodan-in the two centuries prior to that, you see, Silvershire's nobles had been trying their level best to annihilate one another-the rules of succession were set forth. One rather unique article states that the heir shall succeed to the throne on his thirtieth birthday, rather than waiting for the current ruler to kick off-thus, it was hoped, preventing the possibility of an interminable reign by a tyrannical or doddering monarch. And also, I imagine," he added drily, "reducing the temptation on the part of an impatient heir to hurry his predecessor's departure along.
"In any event, the system has worked quite well for a good many centuries-I will give it that." Nikolas aimed a fierce glare at his father. "But times do change. The world has changed. It's high time Silvershire entered the twenty-first-"
"That may be," King Weston interrupted gently. "However, my reign is at an end, and that, my boy…is an issue for my successor to decide. Now, if you will, please continue…"
Nikolas cleared his throat. "Of course. Forgive me. Anyway, as I said. King Dunford had produced no heir. The Charter provides, in that event, for the king to chose a successor from among his nobles. In this case there were two candidates-cousins, very near in age-Lord Vladimir and Lord Weston. Vladimir, by virtue of being two months the elder of the two, and from a slightly more exalted lineage-" Nikolas's mouth tilted sardonically "-was the obvious choice to inherit the crown."
King Weston nodded and picked up the narrative. "I had always assumed that would be the case, even though King Dunford made it a point to include me in his royal tutorials with Benton-Lord Vladimir. He wanted us both to have as much knowledge as possible about the running of the kingdom, you see, assuming that I would serve the kingdom in some position or other." He paused to rub his eyes, as if, perhaps, he had a headache, and Lady Zara gave him a look of concerned appraisal.
Ignoring her, the king went on. with a wave of his hand. "Unfortunately, Vladimir felt threatened by King Dunford's insistence in involving me at every level. Perhaps he believed the king was considering me for the crown instead of him… who knows?" Again the king paused. To Rhia, he looked like a man carrying a heavy burden of sadness.
"The sad thing is," King Weston said at last in a musing tone, "the circumstance that finally pushed Benton into acting as he did had nothing whatsoever to do with the succession. My father was dying, you see. He didn't wish that fact to cast a shadow over the coming coronation ceremony and the attendant festivities, so he had asked that his illness be kept secret. Only my mother and I and the king and queen knew the truth. It was, naturally, a difficult time for me, and I often sought my king's counsel.