Page 28 of Throne Off Course

The thought was as unsettling as it was freeing.

17

A Day Beyond the Palace

“Are you certain this is a good idea, Your Highness?” Thomas asked, adjusting his tie as they waited in the palace’s private garage, his voice low with concern.

Alexander leaned against the sleek black car, one hand drumming lightly on the hood. Gone was the formal attire of court—replaced by tailored dark jeans and a crisp button-down shirt that made him look both approachable and unmistakably royal.

“It’s a historical site visit, Thomas. Perfectly reasonable for the exhibition research.” Alexander checked his watch as impatience flickered across his features. “Besides, I’ve been cooped up in those archives for weeks. I’m beginning to forget what sunlight looks like.”

Thomas sighed, recognizing the particular tone Alexander used when his mind was made up. “The security detail is minimal, as you requested. But I must insist—”

“That you accompany us? I assumed as much,” Alexander replied with a faint smile. “I wouldn’t dream of depriving you of a day in the countryside.”

Before Thomas could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed through the garage. Both men turned to see Emilia approaching, her usual palace-appropriate attire replaced by casual-cool style—a vintage band t-shirt under an oversized black cardigan, distressed dark jeans, and chunky combat boots that had clearly traveled many miles. Her rich brown hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail rather than her usualbun, and Alexander found himself momentarily caught off guard by the transformation.

“Miss Carter,” he recovered quickly, “right on time.”

“Your Highness,” she nodded, then smiled at Thomas. “And Mr. Blackwood. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”

“Not at all,” Alexander replied, opening the car door. “Nice shirt, by the way. Are you actually a Nirvana fan, or is it just for the aesthetic?” He gestured toward the iconic smiley face logo on her shirt.

Emilia raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Both, I suppose. You know their music?”

A small, knowing smile tugged at Alexander’s lips. “Yes, actually. My father introduced me to them. He made me a playlist of what he considered ‘essential’ rock bands. I listened to it a lot after he died.” His voice turned wry. “My mother wasn’t a fan.”

Emilia let out a surprised laugh, the sound echoing against the garage walls. “Your father? I never pictured him as the rocker type.”

“He wasn’t always the ‘golden king’ you see in the official portraits,” Alexander admitted, a rare note of warmth slipping into his voice. “Apparently, he had a rebellious streak in college. There are photos of him somewhere in the archives—shoulder-length hair, flannel shirts, the whole Kurt Cobain look.”

Emilia’s eyes widened, delighted. “No way. Well that’s a side of him the history books forgot.”

Alexander smirked. “Not by accident. My mother made sure those photos never saw the light of day. She didn’t think they were ‘befitting a king.’ But even she had to admit—it suited him.”

“Huh,” Emilia mused, still grinning as she slid into the passenger seat. “That’s going to make for an interestingepisode ofThe Crownsomeday.”

Alexander huffed a laugh and shut the door behind her. “Shall we?”

The drive to St. Edmund’s Abbey took just over an hour, with Alexander taking the wheel himself—a choice that visibly surprised Emilia.

“You can drive?” Emilia had asked, unable to hide her astonishment.

“I did attend university abroad, Miss Carter,” Alexander replied with amusement. “I didn’t have a royal chauffeur following me around. Besides, it’s fun.”

Thomas, sitting in the back seat, observed their interaction with quiet interest. The tension that had defined their early meetings had softened into something more balanced. Miss Carter still challenged the prince, but there was less hostility in it now—more genuine intellectual engagement.

They spent the morning exploring the ruins, their conversation flowing more naturally than Thomas had expected. Alexander and Emilia moved between historical observations and occasional personal anecdotes, their usual formality gradually giving way to something more informal, something friendlier.

What struck Thomas most was how Alexander responded to Emilia’s insights. When she made a particularly astute observation about the site’s historical significance, Alexander didn’t just nod politely—he engaged, questioned, considered. He wasn’t simply tolerating her presence; he was genuinely interested in her perspective.

Thomas had known Alexander since the prince was seventeen, long enough to recognize his patterns. The heir to the throne was not an easy man to know. Reserved, controlled, always too aware of his duty, Alexander had been a contemplative child who had grown into an even more guarded young man. While others his age had indulged in parties and publicscandals, Alexander had absorbed statecraft. He had perfected his composure, ensuring that no one ever glimpsed a moment of doubt or weakness.

A prince must be an island, his mother had once told him. Alexander had taken that lesson to heart, but in all his years of service, Thomas had rarely seen Alexander so… present. Even with those closest to him, there was always a careful distance—a formality that could not be breached. Even Sebastian, with all his irreverence, only managed to pull Alexander so far out of his shell before the prince reined himself back in.

But this was different. When Emilia challenged one of Alexander’s assumptions about the site’s historical context, Thomas expected the prince’s usual polite but firm dismissal. Instead, Alexander paused, considered her point, and actually conceded that she might be right.

“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” he admitted, with none of the stiffness that typically accompanied such concessions.