I can feel Theo’s eyes on me now from across the small plane, and it takes everything I have not to acknowledge him. His presence is so distracting; I can practicallyfeelwhen he blinks. But that doesn’t matter. From last night onward, I am indifference personified.
Henry takes the seat next to me and opens a book. Without taking his eyes off the page, he says, “Find anything interesting?”
Given the way our conversation ended last night, I’m pretty sure he’s talking about my promise to look him up online.
It’s hard to know how to separate fact from fiction when it comes to the royal family, because their fans and haters won’t shut up and log off. I could have read all night and still not scratched the surface of royal family lore. One pattern was easy to spot, though, and it’s exactly as Naomi said: Henry gets disproportionately positive press. He’s consistently named the “hardest-working royal,” with more than twice as many royal engagements as Theo and endless puff pieces about his charity work.
Theo, on the other hand, is the face of a monarchy in crisis. I didn’t pick up on it when I was just scrutinizing pictures of him and Comet, but apparently public support for him is waning, especially outside the UK. He’s suspected of drinking too much and enjoying his job too little. According to some outlets, this (now-scrapped) royal tour was a desperate and doomed effort to gather goodwill for a capricious teenage king in the weeks leading up to his coronation.
I’m not about to discuss any of this with Henry, however. “What are you reading?”
He tilts his book so I can see the cover.Sceptre, Throne, and Crown.It looks like a dense nonfiction book about the history of his own family.
I laugh out loud. “Everyone already likes you best! You don’t need to do all this.”
He uses his finger as a bookmark as he closes the book. “Youdidresearch me.”
“Is that why you weren’t at the park yesterday? Because you’ve been getting too much good press?”
He raises a cryptic brow before flipping the book back open and returning his eyes to the page. I’m dying to lean forward and look at Theo, but I heroically resist the urge.
The smell of nail polish fills the cabin. Eager for a distraction, I push myself up onto my knees and turn around, resting my chin on the back of my seat. Naomi is painting her nails a kelly green while Victoria frowns at her. I realize with a stab of jealousy that Comet is lounging on the seat next to the princess.
“Hey, Theo. Can you change Mum’s rule about colored nail polish?” Victoria asks, running her hand over Comet’s head.
“You wear colored nail polish all the time. You’re wearing it now,” Theo points out.
“Barely.” Victoria rolls her eyes at her pale pink nails. “And the press still won’t put a sock in it. I want to wear black. Or neon purple with silver sparkles. I want my nails to be two inches long with charms hanging off.”
He cocks his head. “You do?”
“I want the option.”
“Do it. You knowIdon’t care.”
“Also, I’m done with tights. They make me feel like a grandma.”
“I’ll write a statement,” Theo deadpans.
“Never complain, never explain,” Henry says ominously.
“What is that?” I ask.
“Our family motto,” he says proudly, and I remember Theo telling me how the Queen forbade him from talking about his depression. I can’t help but wonder if she saw it as complaining, and my impression of her plummets even further.
I glance at Theo, and my heart surges. “That doesn’t seem fair,” I say to Henry.
He shrugs. “No one wants to hear rich white people complain about clothes or nails when there are families struggling to put food on the table. It makes us seem out of touch.”
“Weareout of touch,” Victoria and Theo say at the same time.
I slide back down in my seat. “Even so, I’d rather live naked at the North Pole than get my brother’s approval on mynail art.”
“You should know that if you stick around, you’ll be expected to follow the same guidelines,” Victoria says.
“She’s only staying for a few days,” Henry answers for me. “Right?” For clarification he turns to his brother, who is watching our conversation with interest. “Once the wedding fuss is cleared up, she’s going back to Chicago?”
“You two aren’t together?” Victoria butts her way into the conversation now, but my gaze is still locked on Theo’s. My face heats as I think about the conversation that I overheard last night.
