Page 64 of Throne Off Course

Emilia blinked, then laughed, the sound bright against the evening quiet. “That’s your big revelation?”

“It’s true,” he insisted, eyes crinkling with amusement. “The palace chef makes this mint chocolate dessert for state dinners that everyone raves about, and I’ve been pretending to enjoy it for fifteen years.”

“The burdens of royalty,” Emilia said dryly.

“Endless,” he agreed, refilling their glasses. “Now you. Something lighter this time.”

Emilia thought for a moment. “You know that GQ spread you mentioned when we first met?”

Alexander winced. “Ah yes, your introduction to my charming personality.”

“I believe that your exact words were that I ‘saw that ridiculous GQ spread’ and ‘decided applying to work at the palace might get me close to royalty,’” she quoted with a raised eyebrow.

Alexander had the grace to look embarrassed. “Not my finest moment.”

“Well, it gets worse,” she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Harper actually saw it first and wouldn’t stop talking about it. She kept chasing me around our apartment with the magazine, trying to get me to look at it.”

“And did you?” Alexander asked, equal parts mortified and intrigued.

“I refused on principle,” Emilia said firmly. “Until she tookdrastic measures.”

“Dare I ask?”

“She taped it to our refrigerator,” Emilia confessed, laughing at the memory. “For weeks before I came to the palace, I had your brooding royal gaze judging me every time I reached for leftover takeout at midnight. Your intense stare silently criticizing my poor nutritional choices.”

Alexander groaned, covering his face with one hand. “That photoshoot was torture. I was so annoyed about having to do it in the first place—that’s probably why I looked so intense.”

“Well, it worked,” Emilia said, still smiling. “You looked so disapproving that I started avoiding the fridge.”

“So when we met…” Alexander trailed off.

“I was already well-acquainted with your judgmental glare,” Emilia finished. “Harper called you ‘His Royal Intensity’ and kept insisting that I should at least—and I quote—‘appreciate the jawline.’”

“His Royal Intensity?” Alexander repeated, aghast.

“Her nickname, not mine,” Emilia clarified quickly, though her expression suggested she might have used it herself once or twice in jest.

“And then I had the pleasure of confirming all your worst suspicions about my character within the first thirty seconds of our meeting,” Alexander said dryly. “No wonder you looked at me with such disdain.”

“To be fair,” Emilia said, “the real you has turned out to be slightly less judgmental than Refrigerator You.”

“High praise indeed,” Alexander replied with a genuine laugh. “Is Harper disappointed that I haven’t lived up to the photos?”

“Oh, she still doesn’t believe me when I tell her you’re actuallyhuman,” Emilia said. “She’s convinced you glide around the palace in bespoke suits, making withering remarks and maintaining that perfect royal posture at all times.”

“Only on Tuesdays,” Alexander said, his eyes warm with amusement.

And so it went—secrets trading back and forth, some profound, some trivial, each one a small bridge between their worlds. The hour passed too quickly, measured in confessions and shared laughter.

* * *

The invitations had already gone out. The palace was buzzing with the news. Alexander would soon be formally engaged to a woman he barely knew.

And Emilia—she would be nothing.

She found him in the dimly lit corridor, just beyond the grand ballroom where nobles were already toasting the impending union.

“This isn’t fair,” she whispered, voice breaking.