Page 23 of Throne Off Course

Alexander stilled, his fingers pausing over the document in his hands. “Did you?”

She nodded, matter-of-fact. “I teach a course on modern European history. Your father was a central figure in the discussion about monarchies.”

He hesitated, caught between curiosity and a strange sense of apprehension. “And what did you say?”

Emilia leaned forward slightly, resting her arms on the table. “I talked about the reforms he implemented, how he modernized Caledonia’s monarchy, how he redefined what a constitutional ruler could be.”

Alexander hesitated, his expression wary. “And what about my mother?”

Emilia didn’t hesitate. “We talked about her too.” She tapped her pen against her notebook. “Your father’s legacy is still debated, but most historians agree he was more forward-thinking. Your mother, on the other hand, has spent the past fifteen years methodically undoing those changes.”

Alexander’s fingers curled around the edge of the table. He wasn’t surprised, but hearing it framed so bluntly sent a slow, simmering frustration through him.

Emilia studied him carefully. “You do know everyone is waiting to see what you’ll do, right?”

He glanced up at her. “What do you mean?”

She sighed, leaning back. “You’re the heir, Alexander. You’re the one who decides what comes next. Will you follow yourfather’s path? Or continue the one your mother has set?”

Alexander was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was softer than she’d ever heard it.

“My father told me something once, just before he died.” His fingers traced an invisible pattern on the ancient wood of the table. “He told me that ‘the world has had its James. It waits for its Alexander.’”

He looked up at her, and for once, the royal mask had slipped completely. “Everyone wants me to fit into a certain mold. They think I’ll either be a clone of my father or my mother. But I’m neither of them.”

Emilia studied him for a long moment, her expression thoughtful. “Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?” she said quietly. “Who is Alexander?”

Something shifted between them, a moment of genuine vulnerability from the prince she’d assumed had none.

“Is that what this project is about?” she continued. “Finding out?”

Alexander shrugged. “Partly, I suppose.”

Emilia hesitated, then asked the question that had been lingering in her mind for weeks. “So, if you disagree with your mother’s approach, why haven’t you taken the throne yourself? You’re clearly of age.”

Alexander’s eyebrows arched elegantly. “My, Miss Carter. That’s quite the impertinent question.”

“You say that like you’re surprised,” she replied with a slight grin. “I’ve been nothing but impertinent since I got here.”

“True,” he acknowledged with a hint of amusement. “And yet somehow you’ve avoided the royal dungeons thus far.”

“Do you still have those?” she asked, eyes widening in mockhorror.

“Sadly, no,” he replied, the corner of his mouth lifting.

Alexander’s fingers traced the edge of an ancient document, his eyes following the movement. “The marriage law,” he said finally, his voice quieter than before. “As I’m sure your research has told you, I must be married before I can be crowned.”

“And Lady Genevieve awaits,” Emilia nodded. “Your childhood betrothed.”

“Indeed.” The single word carried a weight that seemed to settle between them.

“But that still doesn’t explain the delay,” she pressed gently. “The arrangement has been in place since you were children.”

Alexander turned to the window, where afternoon light spilled across the archives. For a moment, he seemed to be weighing how much to reveal. “The truth, Miss Carter, is that I don’t want to marry Genevieve.”

Emilia stilled, surprised by his candor. “But the law—”

“Yes, the law.” Frustration colored his words. “I’ve attempted to change it. Discreetly, of course. But I don’t have the votes in Parliament.”