Chapter 24 Her Majesty Is Not Amused
Her Majesty Is Not Amused
The Queen’s office was a fortress of control. Not a paper out of place, not a breath wasted. The only sign of disturbance was the crisp newspapers spread before her, their headlines variations of the same theme.
Alexander sat across from her, exuding the ease of a man who knew he was about to be lectured and had already decided he didn’t care.
The Queen, however, was in no mood for his defiance.
She lifted her gaze from the papers and regarded him coolly. “Tell me, Alexander, how many times do you expect me to summon you over your behavior?”
He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “It was a few interviews, Mother. Not an act of treason.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. With slow precision, she picked up one of the papers, turning it toward him like an accusation.
“I see a prince who has spent his entire life cultivating discipline and decorum—who, instead of carrying himself with dignity, is now a viral internet spectacle.” She picked up another newspaper.
“‘Like Father, Like Son,’ they’re saying.
As if winning duels and charming talk show hosts is the purpose of the monarchy. ”
Alexander fought back a smirk. “People seemed to enjoy it.”
The Queen’s gaze sharpened. “Enjoyment is irrelevant. Control is everything.” She tapped a manicured finger on the bolded headline before her. “The Ice Prince Melts—Is Alexander Finally a King We Can Love?”
“You are nothing more than a playboy prince to them, a passing media trend. Is that what you aspire to be? Your father’s charm had purpose, direction. This—” she gestured at the papers with disdain, “—this is frivolity.”
“Do you know what happens when the people love a prince too much?” she continued, voice laced with quiet steel. “They expect him to be theirs. They forget that he belongs to the crown.”
Alexander leaned back, deliberately relaxed. “You mean they forget he belongs to you.”
Her expression didn’t change, but the silence that followed was absolute.
He had struck too close.
Finally, she moved to set the paper aside as if it personally offended her. “If you insist on behaving recklessly, do not be surprised when people mistake you for reckless company.”
His grip on the armrest tightened, but he kept his expression neutral.
She continued, voice cool and precise. “Tell me, do you enjoy being likened to Sebastian Hawthorne? Because that is the comparison being made in every political circle that matters.”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “There are worse people to be associated with than Sebastian.”
The Queen’s gaze remained impassive. “True, but he is careless. And if you align yourself too closely with men like him, the world will assume you are just as deeply unserious and unfit for any real responsibility.”
Alexander exhaled sharply. “Sebastian is a friend.”
“He is a liability.” Her words sliced through the room like glass. “A self-indulgent aristocrat who thrives on spectacle. You may tolerate him, but do not think for a second that I will.”
Alexander tensed. He knew better than anyone that Sebastian wasn’t the real issue here.
Her gaze flickered toward the headlines again.
“This is the company you choose to keep, Alexander. This is the image you project.” She tapped the comparison to his father.
“A king is not defined by public adoration. Your father understood that beneath the charm there must be substance, seriousness of purpose. You’ve somehow managed to learn all the wrong lessons. ”
She smoothed the paper before her, entirely unbothered by the weight of her words. “The monarchy requires more than a handsome face who can win a duel and make commoners laugh. It requires a man who understands sacrifice. Perhaps all distractions should be removed.”
His entire body tensed. He knew exactly where this was going.
“If you’re referring to Emilia—”
The Queen’s lips curved just slightly, and the air between them sharpened.
“No, but how interesting that is where your mind first went and I note that you’re on a first name basis now, how delightfully informal.”
He had walked straight into it.
She studied him with the kind of scrutiny that could peel away layers. “This project was meant to be a formality, not a personal indulgence. Perhaps it’s time for Miss Carter to leave.”
His voice remained carefully measured. “She’s the best person for the job, the historical commission hand selected her. Removing her now would only invite unnecessary speculation. Besides, the project is almost complete.”
A pause.
Then, to his surprise, the Queen nodded. “Very well.”
Alexander didn’t trust it.
“She may stay,” the Queen continued, voice like silk wrapped around steel. “But if I find that this… arrangement has become a problem, I will end it myself.”
His muscles tightened, but he nodded once, knowing he had no choice.
Then, just as he thought he was finished, she delivered the final strike.
“Genevieve will be arriving within the week.”
Alexander tensed, his hands gripping the chair arms. “You’ve already spoken to her?”
The Queen smiled thinly. “Of course. She understands the importance of your union. And since you seem to have forgotten that, I will remind you—this match is not an option, Alexander. It is a necessity.”
His stomach turned. His mother had always been two steps ahead, but this was calculated even for her.
Bringing Genevieve now was a message, loud and clear: fall in line.
Alexander forced himself to remain composed. “Then I suppose I should prepare to welcome her.”
“See that you do.” His mother replied with dismissal in her tone.