Chapter 22 Royal Research Assistant
Royal Research Assistant
The fireplace was low, throwing long, lazy shadows across the stacks of papers that had migrated across Alexander’s desk and onto the floor. He was still in his shirtsleeves, tie undone, the top button open — the “I swear I’m almost done” uniform he’d been wearing for hours.
Emilia slipped in quietly, balancing a stack of folders and a mug of tea precariously in one hand.
“You’re going to ruin your eyes squinting at constitutional law in the dark like some tragic Tudor king,” she teased, setting the tea down beside him.
Alexander barely glanced up. “I’m on a deadline.”
“You’re always on a deadline,” Emilia said, dropping the folders in front of him with a satisfying thwack. “Fortunately for you, you married a woman who finds dusty archives romantic.”
That made him look up, a real smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What have you brought me?”
“Proof you’re not the first royal to believe the public deserves to see where their money goes,” Emilia said, sinking into the armchair opposite him and tucking one leg beneath her. “Some historical precedents you can cite when you pitch your transparency reforms.”
Alexander leaned forward, intrigued. “Such as?”
“First, the public access initiative? Norland opened royal estates seasonally back in the 1980s. Massive goodwill boost. And they made a fortune in guided tours.” She tapped the first folder.
“Second, the financial disclosures—I found a couple examples of monarchies that started releasing annual spending reports. It didn’t destroy the institution. It actually strengthened public trust.”
Alexander flipped open the top folder, scanning the highlighted notes. His brow furrowed, but in the good way—the thinking way.
“And,” Emilia added, pulling out another sheet, “for the charitable endowments you want to restructure—Prince Alastair did something similar during the Great Rebuilding after the Industrial Reforms. He turned several private holdings into community trusts. Hugely popular. And very on-brand for a constitutional monarchy trying to modernize without scaring the horses.”
Alexander looked up at her again, this time with a deeper smile. Not just amusement—admiration.
He looked up, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You realize you’ve done more to prep this legislation than half the policy team?”
“I live to shame political professionals,” Emilia said sweetly. “Besides, I like being useful. And mildly subversive.”
He reached across the desk, curling his fingers around hers. “You’re brilliant.”
“I know,” she said breezily, but squeezed his hand back. “And now you’re armed with history. So go forth and rule.”
Alexander turned the pages slowly, thoughtfully. “You know, when you said you wanted to get back into research, I assumed it meant I’d see less of you.”
Emilia’s smile softened. “Surprise. You’re stuck with a research assistant who works for hugs and tea.”
He stood, pulling her up with him, and gathered her into his arms with a relieved, tired sigh. “You don’t know how much I needed this. After a day of dealing with the budget committee and my mother’s latest passive-aggressive memo… best bargain I’ve ever made,” he murmured against her hair.
“You’ll think that right up until I start editing your speeches for passive voice,” she said, grinning into his chest.
He laughed, and for the first time that evening, the weight around his shoulders seemed to lift.