Page 58 of Throne Off Course

For just a second—just one breathless, perfect moment—she kissed him back.

Her fingers curled into his shirt, the heat of him beneath her palms, and for that heartbeat, they were something impossible. Something inevitable. Something that felt terrifyingly right.

Without thinking, her hands slid upward—skimming over his chest, tracing the line of his jaw—until her fingers tangled in his hair. It was softer than she expected, thick and unruly under her touch, and when she tugged just slightly, he made a sound low in his throat that sent a shiver down her spine.

Then Emilia’s brain suddenly caught up with her body. Reality crashed back like a wave.

Emilia yanked herself away, stumbling back. Her breath was ragged, pulse hammering. “What the hell, Alexander?!”

Alexander was breathing just as hard, his face unreadable, but his eyes—his eyes looked wild.

“You don’t get to do that,” she said, voice shaking slightly. “You don’t get to just kiss me like that—”

The sharp, authoritative knock on the archive door felt like a gunshot in the charged silence.

They both froze, tension instantly shifting from desire to alarm. Alexander’s eyes darted to the door, then back to Emilia, his expression hardening into royal composure with frightening speed.

Before either could speak, the door swung open with practiced precision. Thomas stepped into the room, his gaze sweepingover them with the calculating efficiency of someone who assessed situations for a living.

“Your Highness,” he said, his voice perfectly neutral despite the scene before him—Alexander with his hair uncharacteristically disheveled, Emilia flushed and standing just a little too close, the tension between them thick enough to cut. “Lord Davenport is searching for you. The palace has received word that Lady Genevieve’s father will be arriving next week to discuss… arrangements.”

His emphasis on the last word was slight but unmistakable. His eyes flickered briefly to Emilia, then back to Alexander, his expression revealing nothing but his posture conveying volumes.

Alexander straightened his shoulders, the transformation from man to prince completed in seconds. “Thank you, Thomas.”

“Sir,” Thomas continued, stepping further into the room and partially closing the door behind him, his voice lowering, “Lord Davenport mentioned he was heading to the archives next.”

“I see,” Alexander said, the words carrying a weight of understanding.

Thomas’s expression remained perfectly professional, but there was a subtle shift in his stance—protective rather than merely efficient. “I could inform him you’ll meet him in your office in fifteen minutes, if that would be preferable, sir.”

Alexander nodded. “Thank you, Thomas. That would be… helpful.”

Thomas inclined his head, then turned to Emilia. “Miss Carter,” he acknowledged with a slight bow. His voice remained formal, but there was something almost gentle in his tone. “The palace corridors are particularly busy this afternoon.Perhaps when you’ve finished your research, you might consider using the eastern exit. It tends to be less… observed.”

Emilia stared at him, caught between shock and gratitude. This wasn’t the reaction she had expected.

“Thank you, Mr. Blackwood,” she managed, her voice steadier than she felt.

Thomas nodded once, then turned back to Alexander. “Fifteen minutes, Your Highness.” His eyes communicated far more than his words—not judgment, but caution. Concern for his prince rather than disapproval of his actions.

“I’ll be there,” Alexander assured him.

With another precise bow, Thomas retreated, closing the door softly behind him.

For a moment, neither Alexander nor Emilia spoke, the weight of what had just happened settling between them.

“Well,” Emilia finally said, her voice still slightly uneven, “that was…”

“Unexpected,” Alexander finished, running a hand through his already disheveled hair.

“I thought—” Emilia hesitated. “I was sure he’d…”

“Report to my mother?” Alexander shook his head. “Thomas is loyal to me. Not to the crown, not to the institution. To me.”

Emilia studied him, reassessing yet again. “So he won’t tell anyone about… this?”

A hint of a wry smile touched Alexander’s lips. “Oh, he’ll absolutely tell me what a catastrophically poor decision this was. At length. But no, he won’t tell anyone else.”