Page 46 of The Prince's Castaway Baby

An answer flashes into my mind immediately, but I don’t say it out loud. Instead I say, “Well, there was that winter coat that I saw and loved, but it was limited edition and out of stock by the time I got around to trying to order it. That was pretty disappointing.”

Professor Laurent just scoffs, frustrated that I won’t give her a juicier answer. She sighs loudly, then flops back onto the sofa soshe can ignore me. I can’t say I’m disappointed by that. I don’t dislike her, but we’re definitely not compatible personalities.

Besides, I’ve barely known her for long enough to want to tell her about how desperately I want to be seen as more that I am, about how badly I want to change my public image because I’m so tired of everyone assuming the worst of me.

And I definitely can’t tell her about how much I still miss Billie every single day.

There’s very little that I’ve not been allowed in my life, and I am very, very lucky for that. But I know without question that Billie would not be one of them. She’s an unfavorable match, and my parents would never approve. They’ve made me give up more for less before.

That said, they’ve seemed way less disappointed in me than usual lately. Looks like actually doing something useful with your life makes people proud of you. I wish I’d figured that one out a few years ago instead of doing whatever the hell it is I’ve been doing with my life.

I turn back to my book, but I barely read a page before Jackson swings inside. He shuffles up on the sofa next to me, squashing me into Professor Laurent, and grins.

“Professor Laurent. Your Highness,” he says to each of us in turn.

Professor Laurent shoots him poison daggers from her eyes, and I contain my smile. I know he’s doing it to wind her up too. But really, I’d rather him call me by my first name. I hate the formality of being addressed as a royal.

“How are we all doing?

“It’s cold,” says Professor Laurent.

“Please, Captain, call me Jensen,” I say quickly, breaking up a fight before it can begin.

“Only if you call me Dan,” he grins.

I nod, conceding to his point.

“When do we make land?” demands Professor Laurent.

Jackson shrugs. “Should be within the day. It’s hard to tell right now – the conditions out there are pretty rough.”

“Yes, we’d noticed,” I say.

“You’ve done well if you haven’t thrown up yet.”

I beam, pleased at the compliment. And even though I won’t say it out loud, I do actually agree with Professor Laurent. It is absolutely freezing.

Despite the fact that they don’t really get on, at least Dan and Professor Laurent are mature enough to realize they are both here to do the same job, and that job is way more important than any of their petty squabbles. Dan excuses them, taking the professor aside so he can discuss some charts and maps with her.

Looks like the weather is going to get in the way of our original plan. I hope it doesn’t mean we’ll have to cancel everything. Dr. Schröder promised me a polar bear. Of course, I know promises like that are empty, because animals never do what you want them to do — but I’d still really like to see one.

From a distance, anyway.

Their conversation drifts on to topics I have no idea about, and I turn back to my book. I’m trying to cram as much knowledge into my head as I can about all the stuff we might see. After all, if I’m going to be posting on my socials about this, I don’t want to get my facts wrong.

But I can’t concentrate while they’re both deep in conversation, and my head hurts too. “I’m going to go to my cabin for a bit,” I say as I get up, trying not to interrupt them too much. They both smile at me, and I duck away.

The ship isn’t big, but it’s got enough room for all of us to have a tiny bunk to ourselves. You’d think I’d be terrified of going to sea after the year I’ve had, but honestly, my last shipwreck was kind of my fault, so with a professional at the helm, I’m not worried at all.

I flop down onto my bed, feeling the boat sway beneath me as we battle the waves. I can’t even stretch out all the way on this bed, and though I should feel suffocated, I don’t. I feel like a baby in a crib, swaddled in blankets and staring out at a world I’ve never seen before.

It’s harsh out there, the sky gunmetal grey, rain lashing the portholes, and visibility next to nothing. The land could have disappeared into the ocean and I wouldn’t even know.

At least I get service out here. It feels like I shouldn’t, what with being in the Arctic, but the ability to use my phone is a happy side effect of the amount of scientific interest in the area. One of the things I agreed to when I came out here was to make videos to get people interested in the work, and now seems like as good a time as any.

I fumble for my phone and pull up one of my social apps. I hesitate for a second, not quite sure what I’m going to say, then decidewhat the hell, I’ll make something up,and hit record.

“Hi, everyone, it’s me, Jensen, live from the middle of the Arctic Sea. And let me tell you, it’s cold down here. Up here? Being on a boat, you lose all sense of direction.”

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