Page 7 of Throne Off Course

Sebastian groaned. “So I’m still stuck here.”

“In this ‘pathetic’ excuse for a school? Yes.” Alexander’s tone was dry, but not unkind. “Besides, your father is Lord Hawthorne, he’s one of the most powerful politicians in the country. The school won’t want to risk getting on his bad side either.”

Sebastian let out a short, humorless laugh. “Great. So we’re both prisoners of our family names.” He paused, his shoulders sagging. “At least you get to be king,” he muttered. “I’m just going to be whatever my father deems appropriate for his disappointment of a son.”

Alexander hesitated, then offered something he hadn’t admitted to anyone before.

“I’m not sure my mother has high hopes for me these days either.”

Sebastian’s head turned slightly, a flicker of genuine interest crossing his expression.

“Another thing we have in common, then.”

For the first time, the silence between them was not tense, but easy, the first breath of understanding between two boys who had more similarities than either would have cared to admit.

In the weeks that followed, Sebastian’s edges seemed less sharp, his anger less raw. And Alexander found himself appreciating the one person at Thornfield who had never treated him like a prince first and a person second.

Alexander valued loyalty, but what he valued even more was authenticity. And Sebastian Hawthorne, for all his flaws, had that in spades.

4

Your Highness, Meet Your Worst Nightmare

Emilia had seen grand buildings before, but nothing quite prepared her for the sheer scale of the Palace of Caledonia.

The history here felt tangible, woven into the towering marble columns, the intricate gold moldings, the tapestries that had witnessed centuries of power struggles and whispered secrets.

She should have been thrilled, but she was already irritated. Her meeting was scheduled for noon. It was now half past noon, and no one had collected her. She adjusted her bag, sighing in frustration. Typical monarchy inefficiency.

Then, as she made her way toward the grand double doors leading to the palace archives, voices drifted toward her. One of them, she realized, must be Prince Alexander.

She had never heard him speak in person before, but his voice was exactly as she expected: smooth, clipped, and just a little too controlled.

What she hadn’t expected? The words coming out of his mouth.

* * *

Prince Alexander did not have time for this.

The meeting with his mother, the Queen, had beenparticularly tense that morning. Two hours of being lectured about “appropriate royal conduct” and “the responsibilities of the crown” while she dismissed his proposals for modernizing the palace’s approach to public engagement. “The monarchy has survived for centuries without your innovations, Alexander,” she had said with that particular chill in her voice. “Perhaps focus on meeting our existing standards before attempting to reinvent them.”

He had barely stepped out of that suffocating meeting room before being cornered by a senior palace aide, Lord Davenport, who had that particular look of a man about to give him more obligations he didn’t want.

Alexander took a measured sip of his water, bracing himself.

“Your Highness,” Davenport announced, holding a leather-bound portfolio. “Before you meet the historian for the exhibition project, I wanted to brief you on her credentials.”

Alexander sighed. “Oh yes, by all means, let’s waste more of my time.” Davenport didn’t blink at the sarcasm. No, he was used to it.

“Her name is Emilia Carter,” the aide continued, flipping through the portfolio. “Native Caledonian. University lecturer, specializes in royal history. She’s known for being… outspoken.”

Alexander stilled slightly. That word always meant “difficult.”

“And what exactly does ‘outspoken’ mean in this particular case?” he asked, swirling the water in his glass.

Davenport hesitated. “She has a reputation for questioning royal narratives. Believes in uncovering what was omitted from official histories.”

Alexander let out a humorless laugh. “A historian with revolutionary aspirations. How predictable.” He took anothersip of water. “Let me guess… she fancies herself the one to expose all our family’s centuries of supposed secrets and scandals?”