Page 26 of Throne Off Course

She leaned back slightly, assessing him as though he were a soldier who had begun questioning his orders. “You have had your fun but now, it is time to stop playing at independence and focus on what is required of you.”

Alexander clenched his fists. Playing at independence. That was all this ever was to her.

“As for this… exhibition,” she added, her tone crisp, “I trust it will be completed soon. You have wasted enough time in the archives. I expect it to be wrapped up long before your engagement is announced.”

His shoulders stiffened, almost imperceptibly.

She wanted the exhibit done and out of the way, tied up neatly like everything else in his life. A distraction to be eliminated. But to Alexander, the exhibition represented something far more significant—his first genuine connection to something in years. The first opportunity to examine his family’s legacy with clear eyes. The first project where he worked alongside someone who didn’t see him as a title, but as a man.

And she wanted it finished.

She watched him carefully, her expression unreadable. And then, as if she had read his mind, she spoke again—soft, precise, deliberate.

“This… historian,” she said, eyes sharp, calculating. “Miss Carter.”

Alexander stilled.

“I trust she understands her place in all of this.”

His fingers clenched into the armrest. “Miss Carter is a professional,” he said coolly.

The Queen’s lips curved slightly, though there was no humor in it. “I’m sure she is. But you are the future king. And the world will watch everything you do.”

He heard the unspoken warning beneath her words.

A girl like Emilia Carter—a woman with no title, no claim, no role in their carefully arranged future—was expendable. An academic who had been given a rare privilege, one that could be revoked at a moment’s notice.

Alexander forced himself to hold her gaze, to let the weight of the moment settle around them. Then, finally, he stood.

“If that’s all, Mother,” he said, his voice even, unreadable, “I have work to do.”

She studied him for a moment longer, then inclined her head.

“Good.” The single word carried the weight of dismissal as she returned her attention to the papers before her, already moving on.

Alexander turned, walking out of the room with measured, deliberate steps. He didn’t let his pace falter until the doors closed behind him. Only then did he release the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

16

A Question Left Unanswered

Emilia arrived early the next morning, already buried in research. The dim glow of the desk lamp cast long shadows across the stacks of documents she had pulled overnight. The musty scent of aged paper mingled with the faint metallic tang of ink as she worked. She had long since lost track of time, her mind deep in cross-referencing old correspondences from Queen Charlotte’s court, when she heard the unmistakable sound of approaching footsteps—measured and deliberate.

She didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

Alexander’s presence carried a certain weight, a controlled stillness that made him impossible to ignore even in the vastness of the royal archives.

Still, she feigned focus, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make a point before glancing up from her notes.

“I take it you plan to live in the archives now?” His voice was dry as he set a leather-bound book down near her scattered papers.

“I’ll leave when I’m satisfied with my work.” Emilia continued writing, her pen scratching steadily against the paper.

“Ah. So never, then.”

She smirked but didn’t argue, acknowledging the truth in his assessment with a slight tilt of her head.

Alexander exhaled, tapping his fingers against the polishedwood table. “I spoke with my mother this morning,” he said, voice steady despite the tension in his shoulders. “She wants the exhibition opened sooner rather than later. We’ll have to adjust our timeline.”