Page 65 of Throne Off Course

“I know.”

He reached for her, but she stepped back, blinking hard, refusing to let him see how much this was shattering her.

“You said you didn’t want this.”

“I don’t,” he whispered. “But it’s bigger than me. Than us.”

“Then why are you here?” she asked, voice raw.

He looked into her eyes. “Because even knowing it’s impossible… I couldn’t stay away.”

She hated him for that.

And worse—she loved him for it too.

Thomas found them, his approach deliberately noisy to give them warning. “Your Highness,” he said, his voice formal but gentle. “The Queen has requested you rejoin the gathering. Your absence has been noted.” He paused, then added quietly, “Miss Carter, if I may suggest—the archivist’s office will be empty if you need a moment of privacy before his Majesty returns to the ballroom.”

It was the most direct acknowledgment he had made of their situation, his eyes conveying understanding rather than judgment. As Alexander reluctantly moved, Thomas stepped aside, his posture straight but his voice lowered: “I’ll ensure no one disturbs you, Miss Carter.”

* * *

They had spent weeks stealing moments. Kisses between locked doors. Glances across crowded rooms. Secrets whispered between shadows.

But secrets couldn’t stay secrets forever.

The truth was coming for them.

29

So, When Did We Decide on Mutual Self-Destruction?

Harper had seen a lot of dumb things in her time. She’d witnessed—even encouraged—several of Emilia’s worst decisions, but this? This was a catastrophic level of bad judgment.

“So, just to clarify,” Harper said, setting her wine glass down with deliberate care. “You are—let me get this right—sneaking around with the future King of Caledonia, who, last I checked, is required by law to marry someone else?”

Emilia exhaled, rubbing her temples. “If you could say that a little louder, I think the tenants in the next building might not have heard you.”

Harper fixed her best friend with a withering stare. “Oh, don’t worry, babe. The entire universe is going to hear about this soon enough.”

She folded her arms, leveling Emilia with a look so sharp it could cut glass. “What, exactly, is your plan here? You’re just going to carry on in blissful denial until his engagement is announced? Until his mother publicly destroys you for daring to exist near her son? Until you’re mysteriously exiled for ‘academic misconduct’ because we both know Eleanor would make that happen?”

Emilia looked up like she was trying to will away the tears that threatened to form. She took a deep breath in and then slumped back against Harper’s couch. “I don’t know, okay? I just—I wasn’t supposed to feel this way about him.”

Harper pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. She needed more wine for this.

“Emmy,” she said, tone softening just a fraction. “He is—by all definitions—doomed to duty. And you? You are… you.”

Emilia frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you don’t sit quietly while history happens around you. It means you don’t do half-measures. It means, when this blows up in your face, which it will, you’ll be utterly wrecked.”

Emilia looked away, her face tense with frustration.

Harper reached out to squeeze her wrist, her voice more gentle now. “And honestly? That’s the only reason I’m telling you this. Because I love you. And I hate the idea of watching you break yourself over something that was never meant to be fair.”

Emilia swallowed hard. “You think I don’t know that?”

Harper gave her a long, knowing look. “I think you do,” she said. “But I also think you love him anyway.”