Chapter 17 Updates for the King
Updates for the King
Alexander’s private study was deliberately different from every other royal workspace.
Less imposing, more functional. Contemporary art on the walls instead of stern ancestors.
Books that showed actual use rather than decorative leather bindings.
It was, like many things about the new king, a quiet rejection of tradition masquerading as simple preference.
Sebastian entered without knocking, a privilege afforded to few, and immediately sprawled across the visitor’s chair with deliberate disregard for its antique value.
“Your favorite evil politician sends his regards,” Sebastian announced, picking up a stress ball from Alexander’s desk and tossing it absently. “By which I mean he spent twenty minutes not-so-subtly insulting me while fishing for information about your fiancée’s potential scandals.”
Alexander looked up from his paperwork, visibly relieved to see him. “Tell me you at least wore the blue tie. You know it really brings out the bastard in your eyes.”
Sebastian flopped into the chair with exaggerated dignity. “Tempting, but I went with burgundy. Felt more… thematically appropriate. Blood relations and all.”
Alexander smirked. “So, what’s new in the wonderful world of Charles?”
Sebastian idly tossed the stress ball up and caught it again. “He summoned me this morning. Apparently, not answering his calls was ‘childish and beneath the dignity of a Hawthorne.’”
“Technically, you’re not—”
“Yes, he reminded me of that too.” Sebastian’s smile was sharp but genuinely amused. “Don’t worry, I gave him just enough to keep him satisfied. Palace communications overhaul, wedding timing, your frustrating lack of corruption.”
“What else?”
“He wants me to keep tabs on your inner circle. Who you’re meeting with, any weaknesses he can exploit. Asked about your lovely fiance.”
Alexander’s expression darkened. “What did he say about Emilia?”
“Nothing. He’s just fishing for scandals. I told him she’s boringly perfect, which is mostly true except for her inexplicable taste in monarchs.”
Alexander rolled his eyes, but concern lingered in his expression. “He believed you?”
“Probably not entirely. But he has no reason to think I’d protect her.” Sebastian dropped the casual act slightly. “He also asked about Harper but I told him she moved to business reporting.”
“Yes, how is all the quality time with your favorite reporter going?”
Sebastian immediately threw the stress ball at him. “Don’t.”
Alexander caught it effortlessly, grinning. “Just saying.”
“Say less.” Sebastian stood and moved to the window. “Ethan’s helping us dig into Hawthorne’s finances. We found some interesting patterns—transfers that coincide with key parliamentary votes.”
“Bribes. Shocking.” Alexander tossed the ball back. “But proving it won’t be simple with Charles. He’s not your average corrupt politician. You’ll have to be careful,” Alexander warned. “He’ll only get more vicious when he’s cornered.”
“Of course. Careful is my middle name.”
“Your middle name is Philippe, after our father,” Alexander corrected automatically.
“Yes, that was a bold naming choice. Clearly I get my subtlety from the paternal side,” Sebastian quipped.
Alexander’s expression grew serious. “I’m serious. It’s dangerous, Sebastian. For all of you.”
“So is letting Hawthorne continue pulling strings from the shadows.” Sebastian turned back from the window and returned the stress ball back to the desk.”
Alexander was quiet for a moment, then leaned back in his chair. “My mother talked to me yesterday. She’s convinced I’m creating a power vacuum by moving against Hawthorne too quickly.”
“Eleanor’s not wrong,” Sebastian said, his casual demeanor shifting slightly. “Remove one spider from the web, and three more crawl in to take his place.”
“She said my allies have their own debts. Their own compromises.” Alexander’s voice carried a note of frustration. “That I’m being naive about the cost of clean hands.”
Sebastian laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Politics is just learning how to sell your soul a little at a time, Alexander. The trick is making sure you get good value for each piece you trade away.”
Alexander studied his half-brother. “Speaking from experience?”
“Partly.” Sebastian moved back to the chair, his expression growing more serious.
“Eleanor’s right about your allies, by the way.
Harrison’s got gambling debts that could sink him.
Pemberton’s been skimming from his constituency funds—not much, but enough.
And don’t get me started on Lady Morrison’s creative interpretation of campaign finance laws. ”
“Jesus.” Alexander rubbed his temples. “Anyone clean?”
“Define clean.” Sebastian picked up the stress ball again, rolling it between his palms. “Westfield’s solid—boring as toast, but solid.
Cooper’s got some personal indiscretions that make him vulnerable, but nothing criminal.
And Davies…” He paused, considering. “Davies might actually be genuinely decent, which in this business makes him either very stupid or very dangerous.”
“Recommendations?”
“Keep Harrison close but don’t trust him with anything that matters. Pemberton’s useful but disposable—let him take heat for the smaller reforms. Morrison…” Sebastian’s smile turned predatory. “Morrison thinks she’s playing you. I’d suggest playing her back.”
Alexander was quiet, absorbing this. “And the ones I should avoid entirely?”
“Carrington’s on Hawthorne’s payroll—has been for years.
Blackwood’s clean but weak, and weakness in politics is just corruption waiting to happen.
And stay away from anyone associated with the Ashford group entirely.
They’re not just compromised, they’re compromised by people who make Hawthorne look like a choir boy. ”
The weight of it settled between them—the reality that even righteous intentions had to navigate a landscape of compromised players and tainted alliances.
“Sometimes I wonder if it’s possible to actually govern without becoming exactly what you’re fighting against,” Alexander said quietly.
Sebastian met his gaze directly. “It is. But it requires being very, very careful about who you enable.”
“I hate this,” Alexander said finally.
“That’s because you expect everyone to be as noble as you are. It’ll be fine. Just let me handle it.” Sebastian’s voice softened. “That’s what I’m here for, right? To help you with the things the king can’t be seen doing.”
“That’s not why you’re here,” Alexander said quietly. “You’re here because you’re one of the best political strategists I know, and because I trust you more than anyone except Emilia.”
Sebastian’s expression flickered with that familiar momentary awkwardness whenever someone actually complimented him. “I’ll keep being careful with Hawthorne. Feed him just enough to seem compliant, but nothing that matters.”
“Sebastian,” Alexander called after him, his tone shifting to something more serious.
He looked back. “Yes, Your Royal Pain in the Ass?”
Alexander’s expression was earnest, the teasing gone. “Whatever Hawthorne said to you today—it’s not true. You know that, right?”
Sebastian froze for a moment, caught off guard by the precision of Alexander’s insight. Then he offered a genuine smile—smaller and more real than his usual carefully crafted expressions.
“I know,” he said simply, then couldn’t resist adding, “Besides, I only believe criticism from people who don’t have to blackmail their own family members for loyalty.”
Alexander laughed, the tension breaking.
“Right, enough feelings. I have a reputation as the palace’s resident disaster to maintain.”
“Of course. Wouldn’t want to sully your reputation.”
Sebastian left, the grin still playing on his lips until the door clicked shut. In the sudden quiet of the hallway, he took a deep, steadying breath. The smile dissolved, replaced by familiar weariness.
Playing both sides was a razor’s edge, but essential. Alexander had to remain untainted. He had to continue convincing Hawthorne of his allegiance.
And somewhere in that treacherous space between performances lay the truth he was clawing for: the simple right to be Sebastian, whole and acknowledged, without the constant weight of secrets and shame.
It was worth the risk. Worth every damned bit of it.