Page 35 of Throne Off Course

“I will,” Alexander said, and she could tell he meant it. “Send me the details, and I’ll see what I can do with the palace gatekeepers.”

Emilia nodded, suddenly aware that their conversation had shifted into something different—something that felt almost like collaboration. Which reminded her…

“Speaking of uncovering histories,” Emilia said, hesitant now. “I found something else that might interest you. It’s not an ancestor, but… I did find something interesting about your father.”

Alexander’s smirk faded. Not gone entirely—but dimmed, replaced with something more guarded. “Go on.”

Emilia reached for one of her notebooks, flipping to a page she had marked earlier. “Your father made a lot of trips to Paris. More than I would’ve expected.”

Alexander frowned slightly, reaching for her notes without hesitation. “That makes sense. He had diplomatic ties there, personal friends. He traveled often.”

“Right. Except most of these trips weren’t listed as official. No public engagements, no records of meetings with foreign dignitaries. Just… unexplained travel.”

Alexander scanned the dates and annotations, his expression shifting—subtle but telling—the slight tension in his face, the way his fingers tapped absently against the table.

“You didn’t know about these?” she asked.

Alexander was quiet for a moment. Then, finally, “No.”

That uneasy feeling crept back into Emilia’s chest because whatever was in those records… Alexander should have known. But here he was, learning about his father’s movements from an outsider.

“You think it means something?” he asked, voice carefully neutral.

Emilia hesitated. “I think it’s… unusual. If it was official business, why not document it? And if it wasn’t official, then what was he doing?”

Alexander leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. “That,” he murmured, “is an excellent question.”

And for the first time since she had started this research, Emilia had the distinct feeling that she wasn’t the only one looking for answers anymore.

* **

Alexander wasn’t usually one for late-night obsessions. His life had been built on control—on routine, discipline, the careful balance of duty and expectation. But tonight, as he sat alone in the archives, surrounded by stacks of documents, old travel records, and fading ink, he felt something beyond interest. Something consuming him.

He had never liked gaps in knowledge. And for the first time in his life, there was a gap in the story of his own family.

He started with the official records. His father’s schedule had always been publicly documented—diplomatic trips, council meetings, public engagements.

James Philip of Caledonia had been a beloved king, charming and warm, a man who had shaped his reign through charisma and connection. At least, that’s what the recordsshouldhave reflected. Instead? They showed something else entirely.

Emilia had been right. Between the neatly logged state visits and scheduled royal appearances, there were dozens of unexplained absences.

Trips to Paris. Private journeys. No formal documentation. No official purpose. And most concerningly? No pattern. If these had been routine meetings, there should have been records—financial logs, government correspondences, something—but there wasn’t. Which meant his father had been hiding something.

Alexander leaned back, running a hand over his face. There had to be something. If it wasn’t in the official archives, then the answers had to be elsewhere. Personal correspondences. Unofficial reports. Financial records.

He pushed aside another ledger, pulling a different file from the shelves—one that wasn’t meant for public record. And there, in the quiet stillness of the archives, he finally found a clue.

A series of discreet payments, routed through various channels, all tied to one specific address in Paris.

An apartment. Not a government building. Not a royal residence. Something private. Something his father had been keeping off the books.

Alexander’s chest tightened. He had spent his entire life upholding the legacy of a man who was loved, revered, untouchable.

And now? Now he wasn’t sure who his father had really been.

He barely noticed the sound of footsteps approaching—his mind still tangled in the realization, the implications.

“Alright, what fresh disaster have you uncovered this time?”