Page 59 of Throne Off Course

The tension in Emilia’s shoulders eased slightly, but the reality of their situation remained. “Alexander—”

He held up a hand. “I know.” The wild look had faded from his eyes, replaced by something more controlled but no less intense. “We should talk about this. But not now. Not with Davenport about to descend.”

Emilia nodded, stepping back further, trying to create enough distance to think clearly. “Go. We’ll… figure this out later.”

Alexander hesitated, looking like he wanted to say more—or perhaps do more—but instead, he nodded once and moved toward the door.

“Alexander,” Emilia called, just as his hand touched the handle.

He turned back, eyebrows raised in question.

“Your hair,” she said, gesturing vaguely. “It’s a mess.”

A genuine smile broke across his face, transforming his features. “Worth it,” he said simply, before smoothing his hair back into its customary perfect arrangement and stepping out into the corridor.

Left alone, Emilia exhaled shakily, her fingers unconsciously rising to her lips. The kiss itself had been shocking enough, but Thomas’s reaction—his quiet, efficient protection rather than censure—had been almost as surprising.

She had assumed the palace equerry would be the first to enforce boundaries, to remind Alexander of his position and duties. Instead, he had created space, offered cover, protected them both from immediate discovery.

Which meant that Thomas Blackwood was far more complex than she had initially assumed. And perhaps, just perhaps, she had an unexpected ally in the heart of the palace.

* **

The archives were silent, the staff long since departed, the only light coming from a single lamp that cast long shadows across the stacks of ancient texts. Emilia hadn’t planned to stay this late, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave—not when there was still so much unsaid between them.

She heard his footsteps before she saw him. Measured, deliberate—Alexander always moved with purpose, even when no one was watching.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come back,” she said, not looking up from the documents spread before her, though she hadn’t read a single word in over an hour.

“Thomas managed to clear my schedule,” Alexander replied, pausing at the edge of the table. “Apparently I had an urgent need to review exhibition materials this evening.”

A small smile tugged at Emilia’s lips despite herself. “He’s very resourceful.”

“He’s worried,” Alexander corrected, moving closer. “About me. About this.”

Emilia finally looked up, meeting his eyes. In the dim light, his face was half in shadow, but she could still see the intensity in his gaze—the same intensity that had been there just before he’d kissed her.

“I think we both should be,” she said quietly.

Alexander pulled out the chair across from her, deliberately putting the table between them—a physical barrier to match the emotional one.

“We need to talk about what happened,” he said, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of something less controlled.

Emilia took a deep breath. “Yes, we do.”

For a moment, neither spoke, the weight of what hadtranspired earlier hanging heavy between them.

Finally, Alexander broke the silence. “I shouldn’t have kissed you like that.”

“No,” she agreed, “you really shouldn’t have.”

His lips twitched, though there was no real humor in it. “Most people would be more delicate in their agreement.”

“I’m not most people.”

“No,” he said softly. “You’re not.”

Another silence stretched between them, more charged than the last.