Claimed By The Tyrant King

"Do you have any proof for these claims?" Alaric demanded from Rosalind.

"I do not have any brother, and he is nothing but a servant." He turned toward the crowd, his voice rising. "I have every reason to punish that servant. He and this wench were caught being intimate right before the wedding, and now she stands here making outrageous accusations"

"Are you going to listen to the words of an adulteress over those of your own king?" he demanded sharply.

Once again, murmurs spread throughout the hall as countless eyes turned toward Rosalind. She clenched her jaw, furious that Alaric was exposing her simply to save himself.

"You asked if I have proof. I do have proof," she said through gritted teeth. "He’s the proof."

Then she turned toward the gathered rulers and nobles. "The rightful King of Eryndor bears the royal mark upon his shoulder, if you truly wish to know the truth," she declared. "Alaric has been lying to all of you for years. Do you still wish to remain blind to it?" she demanded.

The nobles exchanged uncertain glances, and even several ministers of Eryndor looked at one another because they knew exactly what Rosalind was talking about, although many of them had remained silent out of loyalty to Alaric.

Rowan’s shirt was pulled aside, exposing the mark on his shoulder for all to see.

"The mark proves nothing," Alaric declared immediately. "Do you believe something like that cannot be forged?"

As though determined to prove his point, he ripped open part of his own attire and revealed a similar mark on his shoulder. Now everyone was staring at two marks instead of one.

Rosalind clenched her fists in frustration.

King Lionel turned toward Rowan. "How did you receive that mark?" he asked.

The gag around Rowan’s mouth was removed so he could respond, "Before succeeding to the throne, every King of Eryndor receives it," Rowan answered calmly. "The late king placed his own mark upon mine."

His gaze shifted to Alaric. "My brother does not carry Father’s mark."

At once, all eyes turned toward Alaric as they waited for him to defend himself, but he merely stood there with his jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles twitched.

Several ministers exchanged glances, and one of them finally stepped forward.

"He is telling the truth," the minister declared. "The true mark is the one upon which the former king places his own seal, and I know for a fact that King Alaric never received it."

Alaric’s gaze shot toward the minister with murderous intensity.

Rowan watched his brother quietly and knew that Alaric was losing control. Every lie he had spent years building was beginning to crumble before his eyes, and this time there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"I also possess the succession letter," Rowan said.

The document was immediately brought forward. "During the purge, my brother made certain that every trace of me was destroyed," Rowan continued calmly. "Unfortunately for him, he never managed to get his hands on this."

The letter was passed among the gathered rulers, and one after another they examined it carefully.

The succession letter eventually reached the ministers of Eryndor, and every one of them recognized it immediately. It bore the seal and signature of the late King Harold, clearly naming King Drystan as his successor. The man standing before them as Rowan had been the rightful heir all along, while Alaric, who now sat upon the throne, had never been the rightful king.

"This still proves nothing!" Alaric thundered.

"Are you truly going to let these shameless people deceive you? This bastard is not the rightful king!" His voice echoed through the hall, but it no longer carried the authority it once had.

"They are speaking the truth." The new voice cut through the hall so suddenly that everyone turned toward it, including Alaric himself.

The figure stepped forward and removed the veil covering his face.

Alaric’s expression immediately paled.

Even Rowan froze.

It was Cedric.

Rowan had believed he was dead, but Cedric had survived.

When Alaric ordered his tongue cut out and his execution carried out, Cedric had managed to fight free from the guards and flee. They had chased him throughout the palace grounds before eventually losing him near the chapel.

Cedric had stumbled inside and hidden himself there.

The guards searched everywhere for him and eventually questioned the woman who maintained the chapel, asking whether she had seen anyone run through the area. She denied it and after they left, Cedric emerged from his hiding place. "Thank you for saving me," he had told her.

The guards searched but failed to find him, and fearing Alaric’s wrath if they admitted failure, they returned and reported that they had carried out his execution exactly as ordered.

With no body presented and no reason to question soldiers who served him directly, Alaric accepted their report and assumed Cedric had been eliminated, which allowed the guards to quietly avoid punishment while hiding the truth of his escape.

The old keeper of the chapel had hidden Cedric and he had lived there in secret all this time while Alaric remained completely unaware of it.

Now Cedric stood beside the old woman as both of them stepped into the center of the hall.

Cedric had not come because he knew Rowan would be killed.

When news of the royal wedding spread across Eryndor, he learned that kings, queens, dukes and important nobles from different kingdoms would be present for the ceremony. It was the first time in years that so many powerful witnesses would gather in one place, and Cedric realized it might be his only chance to reveal the truth about Alaric before people who could not be silenced or threatened. The keeper of the chapel had agreed with him and together they made their way to the palace, waiting for the right moment to step forward.

Then he bowed deeply toward Rowan. "Your Majesty."

"You’re still alive," Rowan said, unable to believe what he was seeing, and Cedric nodded.

"Alaric is the liar, and my king speaks nothing but the truth," he declared. Alaric stood frozen where he was, fury burning in his eyes as his fists clenched tightly at his sides.