Page 24 of The Prince's Castaway Baby

“How can this island possibly be big enough for a waterfall?” asks Jens as we crunch through a barely visible trail. “It’s not tall enough, is it?”

I shrug. “I mean, it’s notthatsmall. It’d take you two days to walk from one side to the other. And there is a waterfall.”

He hums thoughtfully, as if rotating a map in his mind. Or constructing one. Or maybe he’s just off on another one of his tangents. Then he says, “Are we almost there? I don’t like hiking.”

“You don’t like anything!” I scoff.

“Not true,” he says, too quickly, then clamps his mouth shut like he was about to say something that he didn’t really mean.

I squint at him in curiosity, but by now I know better than to ask him questions. It’s not like I’m going to get any answers.

“Whatever. Yes, we’re nearly there,” I say. “We’re just going the scenic route.”

“Why?” he whines.

“Because I thought you might be interested in seeing some of the conservation efforts that are going on here. People don’t just come here for the animals, you know.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, for sure. Why do you think we get no signal out here? This is one of the few places in the world where we’re trying to keep as much negative human impact away as possible.”

“Cool,” he says, his eyes widening.

I tell him some more about it as I walk, and as I keep glancing back at him, I can’t help but notice the way he looks. In the week or so of being here without products or a razor, his hair has grown shaggy, no longer well-groomed and styled. Scattered stubble prickles at his chin, and the sun has kissed his skin, turning him from a pale Scandinavian into a golden island boy.

I just wish he would give me some answers.

As we pass some birds perched on a branch, I point out the way they’re all tagged. “All those tags have a microchip in them,” I explain. “So we can track where the birds go, who they interact with, stuff like that. We can build a pretty good picture of all the different habits of the birds.”

“That’s really cool,” he says, then tilts his head a little, thinking. “Billie, why don’t you have a degree in this stuff? Why aren’t you studying it for real?”

I bite my lip, then thinkoh, what the helland confess to him. “I was an only child, and my mother… well, it was just me and her, and we never had the easiest relationship. And college in the US isn’t exactly cheap, and I was never smart enough for a full-ride scholarship or sporty enough to get in that way. But I would haveloved to have gone, and studied ecology and conservation. God, how cool would that be?”

My face falls as I get snapped back to reality. There’s no point in dreaming about this again. “But I didn’t, so I’m here now.”

“You’ve still got time,” Jens says gently. “You’re what, twenty-three, twenty-four?”

I chuckle at his flattery. “I’m twenty-five.”

“There you go, then. You’re still young. There’s still plenty of time. What’s stopping you?”

“It’s not time that’s the issue,” I mutter.

I can’t say it doesn’t feel good to have him believe in me so wholeheartedly, but there’s no use in trying to explain. Somehow, I’d let myself forget that he clearly comes from money, and that means he’ll never understand what it’s like to have to work for everything you’ve ever had.

“You should think about it. I bet you’d be really good at it,” he keeps going, as if motivation is the thing I’m lacking.

“I would,” I say, nodding. I know more than enough to breeze through a bachelor’s by now.

“There you go, then! You should go!”

“Yeah, me and whose money?” I sigh, then wince at seeing his face fall. I don’t want him to feel bad about this, but facts are facts.

It’s not worth dwelling on.

“Look, we’re nearly there!” I say, changing the subject decisively.

I run ahead, disappearing around the corner where the path widens up. Jens crashes along behind me and comes to a sudden halt with a gasp when he sees the lake.

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