Chapter 17 A Day Beyond the Palace
A Day Beyond the Palace
“Are you certain this is a good idea, Your Highness?” Thomas asked, adjusting his tie as they waited in the palace’s private garage, his voice low with concern.
Alexander leaned against the sleek black car, one hand drumming lightly on the hood. Gone was the formal attire of court—replaced by tailored dark jeans and a crisp button-down shirt that made him look both approachable and unmistakably royal.
“It’s a historical site visit, Thomas. Perfectly reasonable for the exhibition research.” Alexander checked his watch as impatience flickered across his features. “Besides, I’ve been cooped up in those archives for weeks. I’m beginning to forget what sunlight looks like.”
Thomas sighed, recognizing the particular tone Alexander used when his mind was made up. “The security detail is minimal, as you requested. But I must insist—”
“That you accompany us? I assumed as much,” Alexander replied with a faint smile. “I wouldn’t dream of depriving you of a day in the countryside.”
Before Thomas could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed through the garage.
Both men turned to see Emilia approaching, her usual palace-appropriate attire replaced by casual-cool style—a vintage band t-shirt under an oversized black cardigan, distressed dark jeans, and chunky combat boots that had clearly traveled many miles.
Her rich brown hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail rather than her usual bun, and Alexander found himself momentarily caught off guard by the transformation.
“Miss Carter,” he recovered quickly, “right on time.”
“Your Highness,” she nodded, then smiled at Thomas. “And Mr. Blackwood. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”
“Not at all,” Alexander replied, opening the car door. “Nice shirt, by the way. Are you actually a Nirvana fan, or is it just for the aesthetic?” He gestured toward the iconic smiley face logo on her shirt.
Emilia raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Both, I suppose. You know their music?”
A small, knowing smile tugged at Alexander’s lips. “Yes, actually. My father introduced me to them. He made me a playlist of what he considered ‘essential’ rock bands. I listened to it a lot after he died.” His voice turned wry. “My mother wasn’t a fan.”
Emilia let out a surprised laugh, the sound echoing against the garage walls. “Your father? I never pictured him as the rocker type.”
“He wasn’t always the ‘golden king’ you see in the official portraits,” Alexander admitted, a rare note of warmth slipping into his voice.
“Apparently, he had a rebellious streak in college. There are photos of him somewhere in the archives—shoulder-length hair, flannel shirts, the whole Kurt Cobain look.”
Emilia’s eyes widened, delighted. “No way. Well that’s a side of him the history books forgot.”
Alexander smirked. “Not by accident. My mother made sure those photos never saw the light of day. She didn’t think they were ‘befitting a king.’ But even she had to admit—it suited him.”
“Huh,” Emilia mused, still grinning as she slid into the passenger seat. “That’s going to make for an interesting episode of The Crown someday.”
Alexander huffed a laugh and shut the door behind her. “Shall we?”
The drive to St. Edmund’s Abbey took just over an hour, with Alexander taking the wheel himself—a choice that visibly surprised Emilia.
“You can drive?” Emilia had asked, unable to hide her astonishment.
“I did attend university abroad, Miss Carter,” Alexander replied with amusement. “I didn’t have a royal chauffeur following me around. Besides, it’s fun.”
Thomas, sitting in the back seat, observed their interaction with quiet interest. The tension that had defined their early meetings had softened into something more balanced. Miss Carter still challenged the prince, but there was less hostility in it now—more genuine intellectual engagement.
They spent the morning exploring the ruins, their conversation flowing more naturally than Thomas had expected. Alexander and Emilia moved between historical observations and occasional personal anecdotes, their usual formality gradually giving way to something more informal, something friendlier.
What struck Thomas most was how Alexander responded to Emilia’s insights.
When she made a particularly astute observation about the site’s historical significance, Alexander didn’t just nod politely—he engaged, questioned, considered.
He wasn’t simply tolerating her presence; he was genuinely interested in her perspective.
Thomas had known Alexander since the prince was seventeen, long enough to recognize his patterns.
The heir to the throne was not an easy man to know.
Reserved, controlled, always too aware of his duty, Alexander had been a contemplative child who had grown into an even more guarded young man.
While others his age had indulged in parties and public scandals, Alexander had absorbed statecraft.
He had perfected his composure, ensuring that no one ever glimpsed a moment of doubt or weakness.
A prince must be an island, his mother had once told him.
Alexander had taken that lesson to heart, but in all his years of service, Thomas had rarely seen Alexander so…
present. Even with those closest to him, there was always a careful distance—a formality that could not be breached.
Even Sebastian, with all his irreverence, only managed to pull Alexander so far out of his shell before the prince reined himself back in.
But this was different. When Emilia challenged one of Alexander’s assumptions about the site’s historical context, Thomas expected the prince’s usual polite but firm dismissal. Instead, Alexander paused, considered her point, and actually conceded that she might be right.
“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” he admitted, with none of the stiffness that typically accompanied such concessions.
By midday, they had settled on a stone bench overlooking the valley, their packed lunch spread between them. Thomas stood at a discreet distance, technically watching for security threats but mostly watching the unusual pair.
“You know,” Alexander said, after a moment of comfortable silence, “when they said they had assigned someone to this project, I expected a dry academic who would simply follow the palace’s lead.”
Emilia smirked. “Disappointed?”
“Surprised,” he corrected. “Though perhaps I shouldn’t have been, once Davenport told me about your reputation.”
“My reputation for being difficult, you mean,” she replied, but there was no heat in it.
Alexander’s mouth quirked upward. “I believe the term I used was ‘insufferable.’”
“Ah, yes,” she nodded solemnly. “Much more flattering.”
To Thomas’s quiet amazement, Alexander laughed—a genuine sound, not the carefully measured response he typically offered at public functions.
“I may have been hasty in my assessment,” he admitted.
“High praise from Your Highness,” she said, but her teasing tone softened the formality of the address.
Thomas watched as something subtle shifted in Alexander’s expression—not a dramatic transformation, but a quiet easing of the constant vigilance he maintained.
Miss Carter didn’t treat him with the reverence of a courtier or the calculation of a politician.
She spoke to him directly, honestly, with a refreshing absence of agenda.
The car pulled to a smooth stop outside the palace’s east entrance, where Emilia typically entered to access the archives.
Thomas sat in the back, while Alexander—who had again insisted on driving—brought the vehicle to a halt with practiced ease.
Thomas noted the prince’s lingering gaze on Miss Carter, so different from the cool assessment he’d given her weeks ago.
“Thank you for the outing, Your Highness,” Emilia said, gathering her notebook and the worn leather satchel that had accompanied her all day.
Alexander’s smile was genuine—a fact not lost on Thomas. “I should be thanking you. Your perspective on the historical context was… illuminating.”
“Are you admitting I was right about the architectural influences?” she asked, that challenging spark in her eyes that Thomas had observed all day.
“I’m admitting you’ve given me something to consider,” Alexander replied with unusual warmth. “Which is more than most historians manage.”
“High praise indeed,” she said with a small smile. “But I should get back to the archives.”
“Until tomorrow, then,” Alexander said, his tone carefully casual as she stepped out onto the gravel drive.
Thomas watched Alexander’s composed expression follow Emilia until she disappeared through the heavy wooden doors. Alexander put the car back into drive and started towards the garage.
“She’s quite different from the academics we usually work with,” Thomas observed carefully.
Alexander’s eyes shifted to meet Thomas’s in the rearview mirror. “Yes,” he agreed simply, but Thomas caught the undercurrent in that single word.
“And that difference seems… beneficial to the project.”
Alexander was quiet for a moment, his attention seemingly on the road ahead. “She doesn’t treat history like it’s propaganda, Thomas.”
“She challenges you,” Thomas noted, careful to keep his tone neutral.
“She is one of the few people who doesn’t see the crown first,” Alexander continued, his voice controlled but with an undercurrent Thomas had rarely heard. “She speaks to me directly, honestly. A faint smile appeared and quickly disappeared. “She just sees… me.”
He didn’t add what they both knew - that in the suffocating world of royal protocol, such honesty was as rare as it was valuable.
As they drove through the gathering dusk, Thomas considered what he had witnessed throughout the day.
Alexander was not an unkind man, but he had never been an open one.
Yet today, he wasn’t just tolerating Emilia’s sharp tongue and stubborn opinions—he was engaging with them, considering perspectives that would have been dismissed outright weeks ago.
For the first time in a long time, Thomas wondered if this museum exhibition might be more consequential than anyone had anticipated—not for the history it would present, but for the future it might shape.
Emilia Carter was not just a complication.
She was a subtle but undeniable shift in Alexander’s very foundation.
And if there was one thing Thomas had learned in his years of service, it was that when Alexander James Edward of Caledonia started to care about something, truly care, the world around him would have no choice but to adjust accordingly.