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[EXCLUSIVE] The Daily Crown (27 May 2026) - Who can we expect in attendance at HRH Prince Edward’s 35th Birthday?
Kensington Palace is preparing for one of the most anticipated royal celebrations of the year as His Royal Highness Prince Edward, Prince of Wales (35) will be hosting a private birthday reception together with his wife, the Princess of Wales (34), this weekend, drawing an exceptionally distinguished guest list from public figures around the world. While Her Majesty the Queen will be absent from the celebration due to a prior and official overseas engagement, senior royal observers emphasise that the event remains firmly anchored within the highest tier of royal representation, such as Her Royal Highness Princess Emily, the Princess Royal (31), who is expected to attend in her capacity as one of the most senior working members of the Royal Family.
Her Royal Highness continues to enjoy strong public support, and is widely credited with maintaining the institution’s diplomacy profile through her extensive engagements. Royal watchers are particularly keen to observe the Princess Royal’s likely interactions with Ms. Andrea Sachs (31), daughter of the Madam President of the United States of America. Ms. Sachs, a prominent and well loved public figure in her own right, is expected to represent the American head of state at the event, having frequently stood in for the President at international engagements when political scheduling necessitates delegation by the President.
Palace insiders have noted in a separate source that her presence is consistent with a broader and long-term effort in strengthening ties between the White House and Buckingham Palace. Her Royal Highness Princess Emily and Ms. Sachs’ overlapping involvement in global policy governance and initiatives, together with their shared reputations as highly capable and competent women in power continue to be closely scrutinised by the public.
Kensington Palace has declined to comment any further about the celebration [...]
Emily scoffs as she reaches the end of the article.
She quotes loudly to her private secretary sitting opposite her, “Expected to attend in her capacity as one of the most senior working members of the Royal Family. Do they think I am incapable of attending in my capacity as a sister, who simply wishes to celebrate her brother’s birthday?”
Knowing that the Princess Royal isn’t asking for a response, Amari simply agrees with a nod of her head as she continues to tap her iPad. “At 11 today, you have a meeting with the Vice President of the Women of the World Foundation, followed by a lunch appointment at 12 with the Duchess of York. After lunch, you will visit Clarence House to meet with the organisers for Her Majesty’s state dinner with—”
“And why on earth,” Emily ignores her secretary, her attention still lingering on the article, “are they writing about Andrea Sachs and my almost nonexistent relationship? We hardly even know each other!”
“Your Royal Highness,” Amari starts patiently, looking up from her tablet, “you are aware that the public is fairly interested in a friendship between the both of you?”
“Which is beyond me,” Emily states, finally putting her phone away. “We have never once implied we meet outside of our duties, let alone maintain an international friendship.”
“That is all the more reason for the public to speculate, ma’am.” Amari says, “People are…let’s just say, curious to see two leading women figures in the same room together.”
Emily looks positively aghast hearing that. “Are people really? Do they expect us to get into some sort of cat fight with each other? Also, was it really necessary for TDC to write ‘highly capable and competent women in power’?”
“I do agree that was a little unnecessary, yes.”
“You don’t see them writing ‘capable and competent men in power’ now, do you?”
“Absolutely, ma’am.”
Emily sighs, rubbing her fingers against her temples; TDC has been giving her so much headaches over the years as a gossip tabloid whose sole focus is reporting news on the royal family. If it was up to her, she would have had them shut down years ago; but there’s little to nothing she can do when they are supposed to be strong advocates for the freedom of speech. At Amari’s silence, the princess continues, “Are you also curious about us being in the same space together?”
Amari, ever so poised and professional, shakes her head once. “No, ma’am.”
“Well, good.” Emily says, “Rest assured we will be on our best behaviour. I refuse to give the press anything scandalous to write about.”
It’s the look of amusement on Amari’s face that makes Emily sigh, knowing her secretary wishes to say something. “Out with it!”
Amari tilts her head, tone mostly innocent. “The public is only fuelled because of the fact that last year, you were photographed with a rather displeased expression talking to Ms. Sachs—”
“Amari!” Emily holds a finger out instantly, eyes widening. She loves her private secretary to near death but sometimes she wants to just duct-tape her mouth for remembering every single embarrassing moment of her career. “We do not talk of the past! You know that.”
Amari nods with a cordial smile, “My apologies,”
“Although…” Emily pauses, as if in contemplation. She wouldn’t admit it out loud but there has always been a part of her that wonders how Andrea Sachs is doing. She ends up asking in the flattest tone possible, “What is she up to these days, do you know?”
“Oh,” Amari taps at her tablet again and pulls up a video from YouTube. “Her mother is gearing up for her re-election campaign, so Ms. Sachs has been actively involved in the entire process.”
Emily watches the video, which is a five minute clip of Ms. Sachs speaking to a crowd while wearing the most immaculate midnight blue trouser suit, with her dark brown hair styled in perfect waves — huh, Emily blinks, what a weird observation to have, Emily. Ms. Sachs went on talking about affordable healthcare and easy access to it among grassroot communities, which Emily instantly has reservations about. But it is probably the way Andrea carried herself, confidence and all, that makes her mildly impressed.
Then again, that’s the least she can expect from the daughter of a politician, who she remembers is a Harvard law graduate. Andrea Sachs is an intelligent and beautiful woman, no doubt. It doesn't take a genius for Emily to understand why she is so popular among the Americans.
“If we don’t strive to act now, we will never achieve equality among all communities!” On-video Andrea states, her voice confident and booming, and the audience erupts into loud cheers of support.
“Touché,” Emily tells Amari, and looks away. Her secretary stops the video and goes back to the Princess Royal’s schedule.
“After the meeting at Clarence House,” Amari starts again.
“Yes, yes.” Emily interrupts not unkindly, but rather impatiently, “There’s that meeting with the Children’s Cancer Society, followed by dinner with their committee. I remember, Amari. I’ve not forgotten a single schedule in the past 13 years.”
“I know, ma’am.” Amari says plainly, not at all offended. “It’s just that…”
The Princess sighs, knowing what she is about to say; Royal protocol dictates I do this every morning. “Fine. Do what you must.”
And as Amari continues to read from the little notes she had written on her tablet, Emily allows her thoughts to wander. From the article she had just read, to her brother’s birthday celebration this weekend, to knowing she would be seeing the daughter of the President of the United States again. It has been a good year since she last saw her in a climate summit they had attended, and Emily wishes she doesn’t remember much from what had happened then. It had been one hiccup, just one, and now she has to pay the consequence of the bad photographs of them (actually, just her, really) being tragically immortalised on the world wide web forever.
And since the internet is a cruel source of reminder, a parasite that will never go away, she’d be lucky if Andrea Sachs is gratuitous enough not to bring up that conference again.
One of the first few things Andrea notices, aside from the enormous five-tier birthday cake at the back of the ballroom, is that Princess Emily still looks exactly the same. Which, in her most humble opinion, is completely unfair, given that it has been a year since she last saw her. The Princess Royal is dressed elegantly in a midnight blue evening gown, with diamonds glittering around her throat. It doesn’t take her much effort to become the center of attention in the ballroom, her presence a natural force to be reckoned with.
Andrea’s best friend, Lily, who is also the daughter of the Vice President of the United States and here in attendance on official business, nudges her arm and juts her chin towards the princess’ direction. “There’s your princess,”
“What? She’s not my princess,” Andrea rolls her eyes, and does not admit that she’s already seen Emily the moment she walked through the doors earlier. Unfortunately, really, because now she couldn’t stop staring at her.
Lily gives her a pointed look. “You’ve not stopped yapping about her our entire ride here.”
“Only because I was—” Andrea starts to explain, but pauses to shake hands with a guest who has approached them suddenly. “Hello, how do you do?” She smiles, trying to look interested in what this gentleman has to say, even though she keeps catching the princess sashaying across the hall from the corner of her eyes.
If she hadn’t been interrupted, she would probably have explained to Lily that she had simply been curious. In the year that has passed between them, Andrea had constantly looked out for Emily’s name in the guest lists of international events she had attended, but never saw it on the papers. It is only natural that she’s been curious, that’s all.
The gentleman leaves eventually, and Lily turns to look at Andrea. “So are you going to go say hello, good afternoon, to Her Royal Highness? Or are you going to keep standing here and watching her every movement like a hawk the entire time?”
“She’s clearly occupied at the moment,” Andrea replies with a hiss, the tinge of red evident on her cheek. The gall of her best friend to tease her like this!
“Andy, if you’re waiting for that one moment when she isn’t, you’ll never get to talk to her.” Lily states, and Andrea hates that she is right, judging from how half the crowd seems to flock around the princess naturally. “Think about your mother, part of her campaign relies on you to make it right with England.”
“Oh, stop being so dramatic,” Andrea scoffs, but knows exactly what Lily is talking about. It is true that in a bigger picture, her mother had promised better trade and economic ties between the two nations. But ‘make it right’ implies there’s something wrong that needs correcting, when there isn’t.
At least, Andrea would like to hope there isn’t. She wants to correct Lily, but her best friend is already being whisked away to join a conversation with one of the ministers, leaving her all alone to contemplate if she should go over and say hi to the princess. The five-piece band continues to play music in the background, and Andrea suddenly decides it is silly for her to dwell so long on something that probably wouldn’t have any meaning to the other guests in the hall.
She downs her champagne for liquid courage and passes the empty flute to a nearby server. The Princess Royal is now talking to someone Andrea thinks is the Scandinavian ambassador, and she starts to make her way across the hall, shoulders back and chin up. The moment she crosses half the ballroom, Emily looks up.
Their eyes meet, almost instantly, far too immediately that Andrea falters in her movement. It is as though Emily knows exactly where she is, and like her, has been keeping an eye out for her every movement that afternoon. Despite meeting her eyes, Emily’s expression doesn’t change. She turns her attention back to the ambassador, only nodding her head politely to mark the end of their conversation when Andrea comes to a stop in front of her.
“Your Royal Highness,” She curtsies just a little, and Emily gives her a polite smile, the one Andrea instantly recognises as her diplomatic smile. “Ah, Ms Sachs. What a delight. I do hope you are enjoying the celebration so far?”
So formal, Andrea thinks, but her expression does not betray her thoughts as she nods with a courteous smile. “I certainly am, thank you for asking.”
While still smiling, Emily makes a face; one that seems to tell Andrea that there is no need to lie. The princess leans in, much to her surprise, and mutters beneath her breath, “Come on, Andrea, this is such a dull party and you know it.”
The proximity is what makes Andrea blush, but it is what Emily said that makes her chortle loudly. For just a second, before she remembers her surroundings and covers her ‘misdemeanour’ by clearing her throat smoothly. “If you come to America, maybe I’ll bring you to a real one.”
“Oh, as if.” Emily laughs in a way that Andrea can only describe as courteous and deeply restrained. “Are you returning to America right after the party?”
“Are you that eager to get rid of me already?” Andrea teases, then adds as respect to her title, “ma’am,”
“How did you know?” Emily feigns surprise, “I was actually expecting to see the Madam President today, instead of her representative.”
“Actually,” Andrea corrects gently, “I am representing the United States.”
“Hm. Still a shame.”
Andrea is unfazed when she asks lightly, “You seem disappointed to see me,”
“And you seem remarkably eager to talk to someone who is disappointed to see you.”
Andrea laughs, and the corner of Emily’s mouth twitches just slightly. “You are impossible, Princess.”
Emily doesn’t miss a beat as she replies, “Yet here you are, talking to me.”
Andrea gives her another cordial smile and states slowly, “I was only being polite, ma’am.”
Emily looks around theatrically, her eyes widening ever so slightly. “Really? I don’t see anyone holding you hostage.”
God. Andrea is starting to remember why Emily drives her insane — and not in a good way, she’d like to think. Still, she couldn’t turn away, couldn’t excuse herself to talk to another diplomat or ambassador instead. Andrea remains rooted on the ground standing beside the princess, and she couldn’t look away because even if Emily is irritating, she is still so dazzling in that lovely dress of hers. And that’s the damn problem, because Andrea is now irritated at herself for thinking that way.
“You are staring, Andrea.”
Andrea groans and looks away. Must she call her name in that posh accent of hers? “I am absolutely not, ma’am.”
Emily doesn’t respond to that, simply taking a slow sip of her champagne as Andrea draws a long breath, a dying question on the tip of her tongue. There’s actually a reason why she’d been adamant on speaking to the princess that day, and it’s something that has been haunting her mind for twelve months.
“So…” Andrea finally gathers enough courage to start another conversation, brooching the topic carefully. “about what happened during the conference,”
The one word is enough for Emily to groan loudly in her head. Guess her prayers a few nights ago were ineffective, considering it’s been less than five minutes since they’ve met and Andrea is already bringing up that god forsaken evening in Geneva.
“Andrea,” She warns, the edge in her tone apparently, “it was one bad second of me showing some semblance of an emotion on my face when that photograph was taken. Bad angle, bad moment. It doesn’t mean anything. Could we please not talk about that?”
“Oh.” Andrea does a double take, “I wasn’t going to talk about that photograph.”
Emily looks confused now, “Then why are we even having this conversation?”
Andrea studies the princess for a good few seconds, and the smile on her face slowly fades. “Wait, you really don’t remember?”
Emily quirks an eyebrow. “Whatever are you talking about?”
The brunette simply shakes her head, looking away in mild embarrassment. Whatever courage she has mustered earlier has disappeared into thin air in just a matter of seconds. “Nothing important at all.”
“You are so strange sometimes,” The princess remarks, just as a bark echoes nearby and one of her mother’s corgis trots proudly through the ballroom. Some of the guests marvel at the dog, which honestly is a familiar sight at royal gatherings, and Emily isn’t all that bothered as she turns around to face Andrea.
“I saw that speech you gave about access to affordable healthcare,”
Andrea blinks, completely surprised to hear that. “Really? Uh, do I want to know what you think of it?”
Emily thinks, just for two seconds, before saying bluntly, “Rather immature, if you’d ask me.”
Andrea’s face heats up immediately, her jaw dropping in shock. “Excuse me?”
“It’s all so…idealistic,” Emily explains flatly, “What you said isn’t wrong, of course the people need that. But the things you’ve said have been repeated far too many times over the years. Has anything actually changed since?”
If Andrea’s face hadn't already gone into a shade of beetroot red, she would have been able to retort something clever in return. Flustered, she blinks rapidly, trying to digest the honest but brutal remark from the princess. “You don’t think affordable healthcare starts from grassroot communities?”
Emily looks at her like she’s grown two heads, fully offended by the question. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I never said that! All I’m saying is that your speech is all words but nothing actionable within means. Who even wrote it for you, Andrea? Surely you didn’t do it yourself?”
Andrea opens her mouth to argue, but closes it swiftly because deep down, she knows what Emily said was true — it was, after all, what she had once told her mother; to stop making manifestos that have grand schemes but are completely unattainable. But what truly stings is that Andrea did write the speech herself, and had been proud of it too. Now she is overwhelmed with nothing but embarrassment as she struggles to say anything clever at the princess.
“I can’t say I disagree,” Andrea eventually says. “but there’s some truth in what I said in my speech too.”
Her tone of insistence makes Emily stand straighter. Her smile is razor sharp when she says, “Huh. Spoken like a true politician.”
The crease on Andrea’s forehead deepens. “Only that I am not a politician.”
The princess looks incredibly unamused by that response, but corrects herself without hesitation. “Spoken like a true politician’s daughter, then.”
“I’m just—”
Emily waves one hand in the air. “I am simply saying that while your mother’s proposal is admirable, it will never work.”
Andrea raises an eyebrow. “Is it so wrong to be idealistic? When millions of Americans still struggle with basic healthcare?”
“I am well aware of that,” Emily says, “But the problem is that good intentions and workable policies are not often the same thing.”
“Sure,” Andrea couldn’t help but roll her eyes.
Emily does a double take, as if interpreting what Andrea is thinking through her expression alone. “What, you don’t think I understand inequality?”
“I think that you grew up in a palace.” Andrea replies, “And that you’ve never had to worry between choosing to pay rent or seeing a doctor.”
The words land harder than expected as Emily’s jaw tightens. “You think the circumstances of my birth means I’ve spent my entire life with my head in the clouds?”
Andrea opens her mouth, then closes it again. She looks visibly annoyed when she eventually gathers her words. “That’s not what I said, ma’am,”
Emily scoffs, forgetting their surroundings for one second. “Oh please, Andrea, it was clearly implied.”
“You know what your problem is?” Andrea asks, then answers her own question, “You think practical limitations are more important than actually helping people with universal healthcare.”
“Absolutely not,” Emily states sharply, “I do believe universal healthcare is worth fighting for.”
“Yet you spent so many minutes trying to explain to me why my mother’s administration shouldn’t promise such a proposal.”
“Oh my god,” Emily groans in frustration, “all I did was try to explain to you that implementation and execution matter too! You are such an American, twisting my words like that!”
Andrea gasps dramatically, “Bringing in the nationality card now? Well you’ve become even more British since the last time I saw you!”
“Is that supposed to be insulting?” Emily asks, bemused, and takes an intimidating step forward towards Andrea. “At least we can afford ambulances in the UK.”
The statement catches Andrea completely off guard, and because Emily is now standing so close to her, she decides to take a step back and—
Her heel lands on fur, and the loud bark from the corgi is enough for Andrea to realise that she’d just stepped on the Queen’s corgi.
“Jesus Christ—” She gasps, losing her balance and suddenly everything happens all at once; she stumbles in her steps and in an attempt to right herself, instinctively reaches out to grab the nearest person in her vicinity. Which of course, happens to be Emily. The Princess Royal’s eyes widen in panic, but before she could say anything else or get out of the way, Andrea’s full weight knocks into her and sends her staggering backward straight into the table behind them which happens to hold…
A collective gasp resonates around the hall as the massive five-tier birthday cake trembles from the impact of the collision. Andrea watches in utter horror as the cake starts to wobble, leaning left and right and then—
“Bloody hell,” Emily gasps as the cake plunges straight onto the floor, and icing explodes across the polished marble, artificial flowers fly out in different directions while decorative sugar shatters into nothing.
For a solid second, nobody moved, nor even dared to breathe. Prince Edward stares at the remains of his birthday cake with his jaw on the ground just as the Queen’s corgi decides to take residence amidst the rubble of the mess, seemingly pleased with what it has done.
A camera flashes, nearly blinding Andrea, and the sound of clicks follow suit with a dozen other cameras flashing towards the crime scene where they stand together side by side, expressions horrified beyond belief.
Andrea closes her eyes as soon as she realises the consequences of her action. “Oh no.”
If she dares to even look at Emily, she would have seen the murderous look on the princess’ face.