Page 31 of If the Shoe Fits (Rainbow Tales #2)

Xander was chopping wood—a task that seemed never-ending. No matter the season, any fallen trees or branches had to be chopped and stacked for winter. He wiped his brow as he looked over the pile he had amassed. Sweat ran down his bare chest. Chopping wood was grueling during the warmer months.

“Asher!”

His whole body twitched, and then he growled.

The more magic he learned, the more powerful he felt, and the less inclined he was to put up with his stepmother's crap.

Nevan wasn't around, so he'd have to take care of this himself.

Dare he try his hand at magic on her? What mischief could he do?

A lot. The problem was that with his fury toward his stepmother, he might hurt her.

Xander's snarl turned sinister.

No, he couldn't do it. Not even to her. That would make him like her.

He tossed the ax aside, annoyed that he couldn't take care of the logs with magic since the pile was out in the open and even more annoyed that he was too merciful to take care of his stepmother in a permanent way.

Maybe he was becoming dependent on his newly awakened powers, but Xander didn't care.

He'd worked too hard for most of his life not to bask in some relief.

Stare narrowed, he stalked up to the house.

Thoughts of standing up to his stepmother filled his head, with or without magic, it would be so satisfying.

But there was one more problem with that—Nevan had warned Xander against it.

He said to let him deal with her until their plan could come to fruition.

But it had been over a week since the ball, and Nevan still wanted to wait to speak to the King.

Xander was getting more and more anxious.

He wanted to confess everything to Leo. Or at least to confront the King. Something. He needed action!

Nevan had promised Xander that he could tell Leo about their plans after they were put into motion. But he'd since changed his mind, urging caution with everyone. Xander understood, but he didn't like it. Not one bit.

Xander stormed into the house, not through the kitchen, but instead via a pair of glass doors that opened into the main sitting room. He had seen his stepmother through the glass, and this was his small rebellion against her. But he hadn't expected her to be entertaining guests.

There was a gasp and then a murmuring. Xander stopped short. His stepmother's guests were dressed in fine clothing and stared at him with wide eyes. These people were not accustomed to seeing a sweaty, bare-chested man come bursting into a parlor.

Fuck it. What did he care?

“You called for me, Stepmother?” Xander demanded.

“Stepmother?” the man sitting across from the Duchess cocked his head at her. He held a box in his lap and was the only man in his group who was seated. The others hovered behind him.

It seemed to Xander that this was a lot of attendants for one man to have. Which could only mean that he was very important .

Xander's stepmother glared at him. “How dare you call me that!”

Something shivered inside Xander, urging him to speak up at last, telling him that this was the time he'd been waiting for. Now, before these important witnesses. This was a moment that could change his life.

But all of that swirled quickly through Xander's mind, a background to what truly drove him to action—he had simply had enough.

A man could only take so much abuse before he fought back.

Every cell in Xander's body wanted to fight, and they pushed him into saying, “I've called you that since you first married my father.

It's who you are. Why are you suddenly offended by it?”

“You married his father?” The man stood up. “Madam, you told me this man was a servant.”

“He is! I don't know why he's alluding to connections that don't exist.”

That's when Xander noticed that all the manor servants were there, lined up against the wall on one side of the room. “What's going on here?”

“That's precisely what I would like to know.” The man strode over to Xander. “Who are you?”

“My name is Xander Vesmalden. My father was the last Duke.”

“And yet you look like a servant.”

“He lies!” Xander's stepmother screamed and launched herself at him.

The visitor flicked a finger distractedly as he continued to hold Xander's stare. Two men converged on Duchess Vesmalden and restrained her before she could get within two feet of Xander or the stranger.

“Unhand me!” she shrieked. “I'm a duchess, you fools!”

“ Duchess Vesmalden.” The visitor, still clutching his box, went to stand before her. “I did not come today to make inquiries about your family. However, that happens to be on my list of assignments, and now I find myself compelled to act.”

“What?” Duchess Vesmalden whispered, going limp.

“Your family has come to the attention of the Prince.” The man shook his head. “That we should be here about Prince Leovar's betrothed and uncover this man, who may or may not be your stepson, is rather interesting. You see, there have been accusations against you. Disturbing accusations, Madam.”

“Mother?” Elmer's voice shook.

Duchess Vesmalden gathered herself and shook off the men holding her. “What accusations?”

“The Vesmalden birth records have gone missing, and upon investigating that book's disappearance, I have spoken to a record keeper who distinctly recalls recording the birth of the last Duke's heir in that book, Duchess Vesmalden.” The man looked from her to her sons and back.

“An heir that would have no obligation to a second wife and her children by another man. That sounds like a motive to murder a child.”

“Murder?!”

“Yes. That's what I assumed happened to the heir of Vesmalden when the Prince first charged me with this inquisition.”

“Inquisition?!”

“Yes, do keep up. Inquiries mean an inquisition. Now, it seems that I may have been hasty to assume you did away with your husband's son from his first marriage. You kept him, but turned him into a servant, didn't you? How old was he when the Duke died? Eight?”

“I was ten years old,” Xander said, his heart racing. Was this really happening? Had Leo come through for him?

“Ten. Yes, that's right. The heir was ten. How interesting that this man would know that.” The man glanced at Xander before refocusing on Duchess Vesmalden.

“Ten would be young enough to not understand what was happening to him. Young enough to be told he was a servant, not an heir. To be pushed into that role and have such a thing beaten into him until he believed it.”

“That's rather perceptive,” Xander muttered.

The man went on, “But now, the son is grown.” The man shook his head.

“It would have been wiser to kill him. But then, I'd be making inquiries about his murder, and you'd be facing execution instead of imprisonment. So, I suppose you were wiser to refrain from murder. Now, you will only be charged with theft and child abuse.”

“Theft? What are you talking about? I have stolen nothing! This is my home. I am Duchess Vesmalden.”

“Funny how she ignored the accusation of child abuse,” the man said to Xander.

“I doubt she saw it as abuse,” Xander said. “She's that fucking evil.”

“You little bastard!” the Duchess shrieked.

“Ah, but that is the very issue, isn't it?” The man narrowed his eyes at her.

“Xander Vesmalden is not a bastard. Far from it.” The man tapped his lips with his pointer finger.

“Let's see if I've got this straight. You married the Duke.

This is his home, and the King's law states that all of a man's possessions pass to his wife upon his death.

Unless he has an heir from a previous marriage.

That first marriage supersedes the second, and any children produced are the rightful recipients of the man's worldly goods.

In other words, you aren't entitled to any of this.

Duke Vesmalden's wealth, title, and property should have been passed on to his son.

His only son and heir, since you had no children by the Duke.

If you had been smart, you would have popped out a baby, and that would have given you a small claim.

But since you didn't do that, the second best thing for you to have done would have been to treat the heir kindly. A boy who lost his mother may have formed a strong bond with a woman who stepped into that role for him. Xander might have seen you as a second mother. Instead, you did this.” The man waved at Xander and tsked the Duchess.

“You cannot prove any of that.” Duchess Vesmalden narrowed her eyes at the man. “It is his word against mine. I say he is a servant who is trying to trick you into believing he is the long-lost heir.”

“He was never lost!” Alma cried, rushing forward.

“I don't know how much my word counts, my lord, but I swear to you that things were just as you said.

She made the heir into one of us. She's abused the young master horribly.

Still does. She hurts him. It's wrong! She's an evil woman! Please, help him!”

“Get out!” Duchess Vesmalden screeched. “You horrible, lying bitch! You are fired!”

“No, she isn't.” Xander stepped between them. “Alma has been more of a mother to me than you ever were. And this is my house. So, I say you're the lying bitch in it. And you should get out.”

Duchess Vesmalden slapped Xander .

It was hard enough to turn his face and spray blood from his lips, but Xander turned his head back to her, smiling. “You just proved my point.”

“You are the one with no proof!” she hissed. “Go on. Prove that you are who you say you are. You can't!”

“What about my mother's ring?” Xander asked the man. “Would that prove who I am?”

The man considered this. “What kind of ring is it?”

“He could have stolen a ring from me!” Duchess Vesmalden snarled.

“You have your mother's ring?” Alma asked, her eyes wide. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I didn't think it made a difference.”