I did my best to keep up with Marcel, but just like he had when we had been going to the dining room for lunch, he was practically sprinting down the halls. It felt like I would lose him if he turned around a corner before I did. I was already struggling to keep up, skipping every now and again so that I could close any excess distance that formed between the two of us. I didn’t understand why he was in such a rush—it’s not like it was him who needed to go and have tea with the Queen.
But of course, this time I didn’t bother saying anything, didn’t bother asking him to slow down as I had done before. I wasn’t about to hand him another opportunity to insult me on a silver platter. I would rather keep quite until I was sure that he felt better, or until he decided to speak to me first. And
