Page 96 of Throne Off Course

Harper tilted her head, feigning curiosity. “Oh?”

“The gala, the dance, the stolen glances—” Evelyn ticked off on her fingers. “And of course, the fact that he and Genevieve looked about as thrilled to be near each other as two wet cats in a sack.”

“That, I will admit, was spectacularly awkward,” Harper conceded, sipping her wine.

“So?” Mark prompted.

She set down her glass, expression just thoughtful enough to be enticing. “So, tell me something. Why is everyone so obsessed with whether Alexander is in love with one woman or not in love with another—when the real story is the fact that he doesn’t even have the right to choose?”

That got their attention.

Evelyn narrowed her eyes, intrigued. “Go on.”

Harper leaned back, fingers tapping lightly against her glass. “We’ve all seen the coverage. Every headline is about romance and speculation, but no one’s talking about the bigger issue. Alexander is the first modern king who is expected to marry not because he wants to, but because it’s required of him. The law hasn’t changed in centuries. It doesn’t matter who he loves or doesn’t love—he has no say in it either way.”

A pause. Then Mark let out a low whistle. “That’s… actually a hell of a point.”

“I do have those occasionally,” Harper deadpanned.

Evelyn exchanged a look with Mark, already mentally writingthe piece. “You know, no one’s really framed it like that before. The coverage has all been ‘Will He? Won’t He?’ but the fact that he even has to—it does feel… archaic.”

“And the public loves an underdog,” Mark mused. “A prince trapped by tradition. Fighting for the right to choose his own future. That’s a much stronger narrative than a love triangle.”

Harper shrugged, taking another bite of salmon. “I’m just saying. You’re all so busy looking for the romance angle, you’re missing the bigger story. Alexander’s dance with Emilia was a moment, sure. His distance with Genevieve is notable. But the real issue? The fact that a man about to be crowned king has less control over his own future than any commoner in this country. That’s what the people should be talking about.”

Evelyn sat back, tapping a finger against her chin. “And if we were to start framing the story that way…”

“You might find public opinion shifting,” Harper supplied innocently. “You might find that suddenly, this isn’t just about royal gossip—it’s about policy. Rights. Modernization.”

Mark let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You are dangerous, Sinclair.”

Harper smirked. “Only when necessary.”

A silence stretched over the table, the weight of a new angle, a new direction, settling between them.

Evelyn raised a brow at her. “So… if we were to pursue this angle, would we have your cooperation? Any official comments?”

Harper gave her a pleasant smile. “Oh, you know I can’t give you anything official. But hypothetically…” She took a slow sip of wine, letting the thought settle, letting them chase it on their own.

Evelyn laughed. “Hypothetically, of course.”

Mark leaned forward, already energized. “I’ll need to pull some numbers on historical precedence, maybe interview a legalscholar—”

“Get some polling data too,” Evelyn added, voice sharp with new purpose. “I want to see where the public actually stands on this.”

Harper hid her satisfaction behind her wine glass.

It wasn’t her story to tell. But she had made sure it would be told. And that was all that mattered.

Within twenty-four hours, subtle but powerful headlines began to circulate:

“Prince Alexander: A Future King Without a Voice?”

“Duty or Choice? The Debate Over the Crown Prince’s Right to Love”

“Has the Queen’s Grip on the Throne Become Too Tight?”

“A Monarchy for the Modern Age: Should Alexander Choose His Own Path?”