Page 121 of Throne Off Course

Alexander’s lips quirked into a smirk, his dry humor slipping in effortlessly now. “Bold of you to assume treason won’t still be involved.”

“Then I guess you’ll just have to keep an eye on me.” she teased.

She stood beside him, his shoulder brushing against hers as they both looked out over the city. Alexander’s hand found hers, fingers intertwining with practiced ease.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he murmured, his voice low. “Any of it.”

She turned to face him, studying the lines of his face in the half-light. “You could have,” she corrected gently. “You just would have been much more miserable in the process.”

That earned her a laugh—a real one, free from the weight of diplomatic restraint. It was her favorite sound in the world.

“True,” he admitted. “Spectacularly, catastrophically miserable.”

A comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the distant sounds of celebration and the occasional burst of fireworks.

“Are you happy?” he asked suddenly, and there was vulnerability in the question that made her heart ache.

Emilia considered her answer carefully. “Happy feels too small a word,” she said finally. “I’m… alive in a way I never expected to be. Challenged. Terrified. Exhilarated.” She squeezed his hand. “And yes, ridiculously, impossibly happy.”

Alexander pulled her closer, his forehead resting against hers. “Even with the scrutiny? The pressure? The fact that nothing about our lives will ever be simple again?”

“Especially because of that,” she murmured. “We fought for this complexity. We chose it.”

He smiled—that rare, genuine smile that still made her breath catch. “We certainly did.”

The moment stretched between them, quiet and certain, before a sharp voice cut through the air.

“For God’s sake, is this what I have to look forward to for the next fifty years? You two sneaking off to have heartfelt moments while the rest of us suffer through diplomatic small talk?”

Sebastian stood in the doorway, looking immaculate as always despite the long day. His expression was caught somewhere between amusement and genuine exasperation.

Emilia laughed, not bothering to step away from Alexander. “You could have stayed at the banquet. I hear the French ambassador was particularly interested in your views on economic reform.”

“That man wouldn’t know economic reform if it danced naked on his dinner plate.” Sebastian strode forward, producing a bottle of champagne from behind his back. “Besides, I thought the three of us deserved a proper toast. Away from all the…” he waved vaguely, “performative nonsense.”

Alexander arched a brow. “You stole champagne from the coronation banquet?”

“Liberated,” Sebastian corrected, already working on the cork. “And it’s the good stuff, not that swill they’re serving to the diplomats.”

“Ah, yes,” Alexander deadpanned. “Nothing says ‘successful coronation’ like the newly crowned king becoming an accessory to petty theft.”

Sebastian grinned. “It’s only theft if you get caught. Otherwise it’s a royal prerogative.”

The cork popped with a satisfying sound, and Sebastian poured the golden liquid into three glasses that had apparently materialized from his jacket pockets.

“To successfully overthrowing centuries of tradition,” he declared, raising his glass with amusement.

“That’s not exactly—” Alexander began.

“Fine, fine. To reforming centuries of tradition,” Sebastian amended, rolling his eyes.

“To building something better,” Emilia offered instead, raising her own glass.

Alexander’s eyes never left hers as he completed the toast. “To the future we choose.”

Their glasses clinked, crystal against crystal, the sound bright and clear against the night air.

A gentle throat-clearing from the doorway drew their attention. “Well, isn’t this where all the power players are hiding,” came another voice, warm with amusement.