I personally think Reggie’s an idiot even if he doesn’t let the fire die, but that’s beside the point. I find the lighter in Theo’s backpack and scan the ground for kindling. Brooke shouts instructions from the hot spring, but by the time the sky is painted tangerine, I still haven’t managed to light anything for longer than a few seconds. I press my cheek to the ground and blow gently on the kindling under the log-cabin structure. It catches, but the dried leaves burn up in a bright flame and turn to ash and smoke before igniting the wood. I refuse to look at the water, but I can feel Theo watching me.
I push my knotted hair behind my ears and try again. My fingers fumble over the lighter as a strong breeze whistles through the trees, stirring up ripples in the water and extinguishing my flame.
I let out a frustrated groan. “Why is this so hard?” I throw the lighter. It lands unceremoniously in the grass, and I don’t feel any better for having hurled it out of my hands. I have wood, and I have a lighter, but I don’t have fire. At this point, not eventhe laws of physics are on my side. “The universe hates me. It is conspiring against me.”
“To what end?” Theo’s gravelly voice floats over on the breeze.
“To annoy me.” I spit the words, refusing to look at him. I feel wretched. I look wretched. My stitches burn and my cheeks sting with the first sign of sunburn. I’m hungry, I’m tired, I’m dirty, and with every passing hour in which we don’t see a rescue plane or boat, it feels more and more like we might never get off this island.
I hear footsteps approach. Theo retrieves the lighter and then crouches next to me. “Can I help?”
“No,” I say flatly. My throat burns with the effort of holding back tears. I clench my jaw and wait for him to stop staring at me. The only thing that will increase my humiliation is if I start bawling because I can’t start a fucking campfire.
“Need my help?” Henry calls from the water. “I’m better at it than him!”
Theo ignores his brother. “Talk to me, Wheeler,” he prods, his infuriating gentleness making me want to scream.
“Stop being nice to me,” I whisper-hiss so the others don’t hear us.
“Why?”
Because if anything happens to your sister, it will be my fault, and neither of us will be able to untangle our relationship from yet another tragedy.
The guilt is suffocating.
I finally turn to look at Theo and am startled to find him so close. His eyes bore into mine.
“Because it’s painful,” I tell him.
“Any luck with the fire?” Victoria calls in a mocking voice from the water, and whatever is left of my sanity crumbles.
“Why does your sister hate me?” I snap at Theo.
“She’s a teenager whose mum just died; she hates everyone.”
“She doesn’t hate Naomi.”
“That’s because she’s not threatened by her.”
I’m dumbstruck. “Why on earth does she feel threatened byme?”
His face is pained. “Because her entire world has been turned upside down,twice—and then you come along, bringing all the media attention in the world with you. I’m sure it reminds her of our parents.”
“And that’s my fault?”
“No!” He pushes his hands through his hair, looking desperate. “I’m not explaining this right. But life was just settling down. The royal tour in Canada was supposed to prove that we’re okay, that our family is strong and capable of leading the monarchy. It was the last chance before the coronation to get the public on my side… but then I looked up at the sunken gardens in High Park, and there you were…” He trails off, looking lost in his own thoughts, and it’s not hard to imagine that he’s thinking about paparazzi ambushes and car chases and emergency meetings with the Firm.
“And life was chaos again?” I ask, hoping he’ll deny it.
He exhales. “Yeah.”
My chest collapses, but I refuse to cry. “That’s what she thinks? Or that’s whatyouthink?”
He winces. “It’s not your fault—”
“I get it.” I cut him off before I have to hear him let me down gently. I don’t want to hear again that he cares about me, because now I know that it’s not enough.
Fate was never going to put me in a royal ball gown.
