Page 113 of Throne Off Course

“That’s very diplomatic of you,” she replied, though her tone remained gentle. “But not very specific.”

Alexander sighed, shifting to face her more fully. “I meant what I said last night. I’m not letting you go again, Em. Whatever that means, whatever we have to do—”

To his surprise, Emilia didn’t immediately counter with practicality or point out the thousand obstacles still standing in their way. Instead, she studied him with a mixture of wonder and something that looked almost like fear.

“You mean it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s still a risk, even with the shift in support.”

He captured her hand, bringing it to his lips. “What’s the alternative? Go back to pretending? Just carry on and act like I don’t—” he broke off, swallowing hard. “Like I don’t love you?”

The words hung between them, more powerful in the morning light than they had been in the heat of the night.

Her eyes softened. “No,” she agreed. “I couldn’t do that either. Not anymore.”

Alexander felt something tight in his chest begin to unravel. He hadn’t realized until that moment how afraid he’d been that morning would bring regret, that she would pull away, retreat behind the careful walls they’d both maintained for so long.

“So we don’t go back,” he said firmly. “We go forward.”

“How?” she asked, not challenging, but genuinely curious. “What’s the plan, Your Highness?” The title was softened by the gentle teasing in her voice, by the way her body remained pressed against his, by the intimacy they’d already shared.

“First,” he said, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer, “we start with this.”

He kissed her, slow and deliberate, savoring the way she melted against him, the small sound of contentment she made as her fingers threaded through his hair. It was different from last night’s desperate need—this was a promise, an affirmation.

When they finally broke apart, her eyes remained closed for a moment, as if holding onto the sensation.

“That’s a good first step,” she agreed when she opened them again, a hint of color in her cheeks. “And second?”

Alexander smiled, tracing the line of her spine beneath the sheet. “Second, I talk to Thomas.”

Emilia blinked, clearly not expecting that answer. “Thomas?”

“He’s already helped us before,” Alexander pointed out. “And he knows the palace, the royal household, better than anyone. If we’re going to do this—really do this—we need more allies in the palace.”

She nodded slowly, understanding dawning. “And third?”

“Third,” he said, more seriously now, “we deal with the aftermath of my mother’s concession.”

Emilia’s eyes widened slightly. The Queen’s retreat from forcing the engagement had been shocking to everyone who knew her. The statement from the Crown had been brief, clinical—but the implications were enormous.

“Do you think she’s truly given up?” Emilia asked, unable to keep the skepticism from her voice. The Queen wasn’t known for surrendering battles, especially not ones she’d invested so much in.

Alexander’s expression turned thoughtful. “Not given up,” he corrected. “Retreated strategically. She saw the tide turning—Parliament, the press, public opinion. She knows when a battle can’t be won.”

“What does that mean for us?” Emilia asked, the question hanging between them like a tangible thing.

“It means,” he said carefully, “that for the first time, we have room to breathe. To figure this out without an immediate threat hanging over our heads.”

Emilia studied his face, looking for doubt, for hesitation. “You defied her,” she said softly. “That can’t have been easy.”

A shadow crossed his features. “It wasn’t. But some things are worth fighting for.”

His eyes met hers, unwavering. “Some people are worth fighting for.”

She searched his face, looking for doubt, for hesitation. Finding none, she nodded, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “True.”

Before he could respond, a discrete knock sounded at the outer door of his apartment. They both froze, the real world intruding more quickly than either had anticipated.

“Your Highness?” Thomas’s voice, perfectly modulated to carry without shouting. “I apologize for the early hour, but you requested a briefing before the trade conference and I also need you to review Lord Davenport’s notes ahead of the charity committee meeting. Last but certainly not least, there are several calls from Parliament members regarding the Queen’s statement.”