Emilia blinked. “Really?”
“If we are to be family,” the Queen said neutrally, “we should learn to get along. And I do understand wanting the best for your child.”
The tension in the room loosened.
“Then maybe we can start with the wedding party,” Emilia said quickly. “Because that’s something Alexander and I actually have opinions about.”
“Of course,” Eleanor said, turning to a fresh page in her notebook. “What were you thinking?”
“I want Harper as my maid of honor,” Emilia said quickly.
The Queen’s eyebrow rose slightly. “The journalist?”
“My best friend, who can also keep secrets, organize chaos, and handle crisis with grace,” Emilia said firmly. “So yes, the journalist.”
“And Sebastian will be my best man,” Alexander added, his tone casual but his posture suddenly alert.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Eleanor’s pen stopped moving entirely.
“I see,” the Queen said slowly, closing her notebook.
Richard leaned forward slightly, clearly sensing the shift in dynamics.
“I told him last week,” Alexander continued, rising from his chair and moving to stand behind Emilia. “He’s already planning the stag night, which should terrify us all.”
“That boy has a gift for chaos,” Josephine noted with obvious affection. “I like him.”
“He’s a complication,” the Queen said, her voice tight.
Alexander’s hand found Emilia’s shoulder. “He’s family. Or have we still not reached the point where we say that out loud?”
Emilia reached up to cover his hand with hers, feeling the tension radiating through his fingers.
The Queen stood again, moving to the window where Emilia had been standing earlier. “We’ll discuss this privately.”
“There’s nothing to discuss,” Alexander said, his voice taking on an edge Emilia had rarely heard. “He’s my best man.”
The Queen’s lips parted, then closed. For once, she seemed at a loss.
“Well,” Josephine said brightly, rising and moving toward the mood board again, apparently deciding the awkward pause had gone on long enough, “I think that’s settled. Now, about this coronet situation—”
“Wait,” Emilia said, grateful for the subject change. “I’m wearing a coronet?”
“It’s traditional,” the Queen said, clearly struggling to regain her composure.
“And probably hideous,” Josephine added cheerfully, examining the photos Eleanor had clipped to the board. “These things usually are. All diamonds and no imagination.”
“It’s a priceless family heirloom,” Eleanor said stiffly.
“Priceless and attractive are not the same thing,” Josephine replied, pulling one of the photos free and holding it up to the light. “Trust me, I have seen many expensive mistakes in my time.”
Emilia moved to look over her mother’s shoulder at the photo. The coronet did indeed look spectacular – and spectacularly unwearable.
“You’ll try it on,” Josephine continued, handing the photo to Emilia. “If it doesn’t suit you, we’ll find another way to signal ‘future monarch’s wife’ that doesn’t involve headaches or looking like a chandelier.”
The Queen moved back toward the table. “It’s not quite so simple—”
“I didn’t grow up dreaming about tiaras,” Emilia said, setting the photo down and turning to face everyone. “I was more focused on getting published before thirty.”