Chapter 19 A Family History of Questionable Decisions
A Family History of Questionable Decisions
The palace archives were eerily quiet at night—just the soft rustling of paper, the scratch of a pen, the occasional creak of old leather bindings shifting under their own weight.
Emilia hadn’t expected anyone else to be here this late.
Certainly not him, but there was Alexander, seated at the long wooden table, sleeves rolled up, a half-empty cup of tea beside him as he flipped through yet another document with that ever-present furrow of concentration.
For a prince, he looked alarmingly normal like this.
No guards, no advisors, no audience—just a man knee-deep in work he probably shouldn’t have to do himself.
“You know,” Emilia said, leaning against a nearby shelf, “for someone whose ancestors spent centuries convincing everyone they were chosen by divine right, you do a lot of paperwork.”
Alexander didn’t even glance up. “Yes, well, divine right doesn’t account for bureaucratic inefficiency.”
Emilia stepped closer, a hint of a amusement on her face. “Pity. If it did, you could just decree all this done and go to bed at a reasonable hour.”
“And deprive you of my charming company?” He finally looked up, raising an eyebrow in mock offense. “I wouldn’t dare.”
Emilia rolled her eyes, setting her stack of notes down on the table. “Flawless leadership and humble, too.”
He gave a slight shrug. “It’s a gift.”
She slid into the chair across from him, eyes flicking over the records he was studying. “What’s tonight’s topic? Another painstakingly edited biography of a ‘great’ ruler who was actually a disaster?”
Alexander gave a half-hearted shrug. “Pretty much. It seems that most of my illustrious ancestors were either tyrants, philanderers, or hopelessly incompetent. Occasionally all three.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
“Try being related to them.”
Emilia grinned. “Any new favorites?”
Alexander flipped through a record, a gleam of amusement in his eyes as he glanced up at Emilia. “You’ll like this one. My ancestor, King Edmund I, once lost his crown in a card game.”
Emilia blinked. “His actual crown?”
“His actual crown.” Alexander leaned back, clearly enjoying himself. “He was playing cards with a group of visiting sailors, got overconfident, and wagered the most valuable thing in the room. The sailor won, put the crown on his head, and walked right out of the palace with it.”
Emilia covered her mouth, eyes wide with delight. “Tell me he didn’t get executed for it.”
“Surprisingly, no.” Alexander chuckled. “The sailor kept it for a full day before trading it back for a royal pardon and a generous pension.”
Emilia shook her head, grinning. “Your family history is absolutely unhinged.”
Alexander sighed dramatically. “True, and somehow, I’m the one expected to uphold the family legacy.”
“Try not to lose anything important in a poker game, Your Highness,” Emilia teased.
Alexander arched a brow. “No promises.”
An unexpected smile tugged at Alexander’s lips as he set the record aside. “Speaking of unhinged histories, I’ve been meaning to tell you—I listened to your podcast the other day.”
Emilia froze. “You what?”
“Your podcast. The Past Imperfect?” Alexander’s smile widened at her obvious surprise. “The episode about Queen Mathilde’s ‘mysterious illness’ that was actually mercury poisoning from her beauty treatments was particularly good.”
Emilia stared at him, momentarily speechless. The idea of the crown prince listening to her dissect royal scandals was… surreal. “You actually listened to that?”
“Several episodes, in fact.” Alexander shrugged, looking almost self-conscious. “It’s refreshing to hear someone talk about history without the usual reverence. You have a talent for telling a story.”
“I—thank you,” Emilia said, genuinely caught off guard. “I didn’t think it would be your kind of thing, considering half the episodes involve pointing out how terrible monarchies have been historically.”
Alexander laughed. “Which makes it all the more entertaining. Besides, I can hardly dispute the facts, can I?” He gestured to the documents spread across the table. “I’m sitting here discovering the same unflattering truths myself.”
A thought suddenly occurred to Emilia—an impulsive, probably ill-advised thought, but she couldn’t stop herself. “Would you want to be on an episode?”
Alexander’s eyebrows shot up. “Me? On your podcast?”
“Why not?” Emilia leaned forward, warming to the idea. “An episode with the actual crown prince discussing the unfiltered truth about royal history? It would be incredible.”
Alexander considered this for a moment, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the table. “You know, I think I’d actually enjoy that.” Then he grimaced slightly. “Though palace PR would have a collective aneurysm if I didn’t run it by them first.”
“Of course,” Emilia nodded quickly. “They’d have to sign off. But imagine what we could do—bringing these stories to life with someone who’s actually living with the consequences of all this history.”
“It’s tempting,” Alexander admitted, a spark of genuine interest in his eyes. “An opportunity to show people that the monarchy isn’t entirely stuck in the past.” He paused, then added with a smirk, “Though I should probably avoid mentioning Great-Uncle Leopold’s… unconventional hobbies.”
Emilia laughed. “Probably for the best. But seriously, think about it?”
“I will,” Alexander said, and she could tell he meant it. “Send me the details, and I’ll see what I can do with the palace gatekeepers.”
Emilia nodded, suddenly aware that their conversation had shifted into something different—something that felt almost like collaboration. Which reminded her…
“Speaking of uncovering histories,” Emilia said, hesitant now. “I found something else that might interest you. It’s not an ancestor, but… I did find something interesting about your father.”
Alexander’s smirk faded. Not gone entirely—but dimmed, replaced with something more guarded. “Go on.”
Emilia reached for one of her notebooks, flipping to a page she had marked earlier. “Your father made a lot of trips to Paris. More than I would’ve expected.”
Alexander frowned slightly, reaching for her notes without hesitation. “That makes sense. He had diplomatic ties there, personal friends. He traveled often.”
“Right. Except most of these trips weren’t listed as official. No public engagements, no records of meetings with foreign dignitaries. Just… unexplained travel.”
Alexander scanned the dates and annotations, his expression shifting—subtle but telling—the slight tension in his face, the way his fingers tapped absently against the table.
“You didn’t know about these?” she asked.
Alexander was quiet for a moment. Then, finally, “No.”
That uneasy feeling crept back into Emilia’s chest because whatever was in those records… Alexander should have known. But here he was, learning about his father’s movements from an outsider.
“You think it means something?” he asked, voice carefully neutral.
Emilia hesitated. “I think it’s… unusual. If it was official business, why not document it? And if it wasn’t official, then what was he doing?”
Alexander leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. “That,” he murmured, “is an excellent question.”
And for the first time since she had started this research, Emilia had the distinct feeling that she wasn’t the only one looking for answers anymore.
* * *
Alexander wasn’t usually one for late-night obsessions.
His life had been built on control—on routine, discipline, the careful balance of duty and expectation.
But tonight, as he sat alone in the archives, surrounded by stacks of documents, old travel records, and fading ink, he felt something beyond interest. Something consuming him.
He had never liked gaps in knowledge. And for the first time in his life, there was a gap in the story of his own family.
He started with the official records. His father’s schedule had always been publicly documented—diplomatic trips, council meetings, public engagements.
James Philip of Caledonia had been a beloved king, charming and warm, a man who had shaped his reign through charisma and connection. At least, that’s what the records should have reflected. Instead? They showed something else entirely.
Emilia had been right. Between the neatly logged state visits and scheduled royal appearances, there were dozens of unexplained absences.
Trips to Paris. Private journeys. No formal documentation.
No official purpose. And most concerningly?
No pattern. If these had been routine meetings, there should have been records—financial logs, government correspondences, something—but there wasn’t.
Which meant his father had been hiding something.
Alexander leaned back, running a hand over his face. There had to be something. If it wasn’t in the official archives, then the answers had to be elsewhere. Personal correspondences. Unofficial reports. Financial records.
He pushed aside another ledger, pulling a different file from the shelves—one that wasn’t meant for public record. And there, in the quiet stillness of the archives, he finally found a clue.
A series of discreet payments, routed through various channels, all tied to one specific address in Paris.
An apartment. Not a government building. Not a royal residence. Something private. Something his father had been keeping off the books.
Alexander’s chest tightened. He had spent his entire life upholding the legacy of a man who was loved, revered, untouchable.
And now? Now he wasn’t sure who his father had really been.
He barely noticed the sound of footsteps approaching—his mind still tangled in the realization, the implications.
“Alright, what fresh disaster have you uncovered this time?”
Alexander glanced up to find Emilia standing in the doorway, arms crossed, gaze sharp. He hesitated. For the first time, he wasn’t sure how much he wanted to say. But Emilia?
She was already narrowing her eyes at the mess of records in front of him. “That bad?” she guessed.
Alexander exhaled slowly, glancing down at the document in his hands. “That complicated.”
Emilia moved closer, scanning the pages before looking back at him. “What are you thinking?”
Alexander tapped the address listed on one of the records. “My father kept making payments to someone in Paris. No official explanation, no public record.”
Emilia raised a brow. “And you didn’t know about this?”
“No.” His jaw tightened slightly.
If there was one thing he had always believed, it was that his father had nothing to hide. But now? Now, that belief was starting to unravel.