"Thomas," Uncle Henry growled as he passed by us, not even nodding in greeting to Emma. "A word."

I sucked in a breath in an attempt to tamper down my bubbling irritation but nonetheless gave Emma a helpless look.

She squeezed my hand in understanding.

"Go. I'll try not to gawk at... everything," she added with a sigh as she glanced around the ornately decorated room.

I kissed her on the cheek before turning on my heel and following my clearly brooding uncle.

I found him pacing in my grandfather's study, abandoned of all use except terse lectures not fit for the presence of company.

A part of me wanted to snap that Emma wasn't company, that she was my... well, not my wife technically but my partner all the same. But the rational part of me was relieved she was shielded from my uncle's coming rage, though I worried what the others might say or ask her in my absence. Cynthia would ward off the worst-I hoped-if she wasn't the one instigating it, of course.

"Arrested," Uncle Henry practically grunted. "For human trafficking."

I sighed internally. Emma's ruse had worked in the case of the media, but I had known it would only a matter of time till my uncle caught wind of the situation.

"All charges were dropped," I assured him in a casual tone as I slid my hands into my pockets.

"That doesn't bloody-do you have any idea what you're playing at? These are not the games of children these are-"

"Innocent lives." I cut in sharply.

His glower set firmly. "Illegal immigrants-"

"Refugees!" I countered, barely able to keep my words below a shout. "Fleeing violence and famine and-"

"They are no concern of yours," he seethed.

"They should be a concern of everyone! They're people! How can you not see that?"

In two strides he was in front of me, the tip of his hooked nose mere millimeters from mine.

"I see MPs on both sides tearing one another apart over immigration, making grand ultimatums and threatening to bring the government to a bloody standstill!"

Despite the mist of my uncle's spewing saliva, I managed to regain my earlier cool demeanor.

"They are no concern of mine," I shrugged.

"Listen to your board," he growled, my face getting a new wave of precipitation. "And shut the damn program down."

I started suddenly and took a step back.

"You," I breathed, the realization finally beginning to sink in as the connected dots fell into place. "You're the reason the board is fighting the program. You told them to."

He didn't even try to bloody deny it.

"I agreed to allow you to run a charitable organization, not a political entity."

I balked. "It's not a-"

But he didn't let me finish my defense.

"You feel the need to make amends for our family's colonial legacy?" His voice dripped with condescension, borderline mockery. "Fine, but keep it on their side of the border."

I shook my head in utter disbelief."I honestly can't tell anymore if you actually believe that xenophobic rubbish or if you're just too cowardly to stand up for what's right."

"What is right," he pontificated, "is determined by the constitution. Someday you will understand that the authority of the law cannot be sacrificed for fleeting youthful passions."

"The constitution is not infallible," I retorted.

"But it is understood: no member of the royal family shall interfere with political governance."

I shook my head. "I'm not-we're just providing them with essential services!"

"It's publicly condoning their position, which our family cannot do."

There was a finality carried in his words that made me feel as though I were a scolded child.

"Listen to your board," he finished.

My voice was quiet, but it did not waver. "And if I don't?"

My uncle hesitated for a brief moment before stating matter-of-factly: "Then I'll have them find a new president who will."