Forty-Four:
Cecelia Porter
Marlowe held me tightly. He let me cry. Somewhere, in the middle of the night, he took out his cellphone and started playing music. We swayed together, as if the world were ending. In the middle of the night, as we were dancing, there was a loud banging sound. It echoed through the palace, and the gardens, and the darkness. Marlowe and I jumped apart at the sound.
“What was that?” I exclaimed.
“I don’t know,” Marlowe said, his brows furrowed, “come on. Come with me.” He pocketed his cell phone, took my hand and the two of us made our way back to the palace.
I shouldn’t have let him hold my hand. Anyone could have seen. The Queen, Prince Louis, Prince Victor. The servants. Marlowe was supposed to take part in the duel tomorrow. The duel that would probab
