Royals and Rebels 3: The Heartbreak Prince

Four: Cecelia Porter

Four

Cecelia Porter

“Oh. My. God!” my sisters voice woke me up in the morning. I jumped up, startled and felt my elbow hit something that seemed to be a face.

“Christ!” Henry exclaimed. “What did I do to you, woman?”

I scowled at him, realizing that I had spent the whole night asleep on his shoulder.

“Oh my god!” Delilah shrieked again.

I sat up in bed, wincing, at my sister. Not just my sister. The Princess of England. The future Queen. The woman who could very well send me to the tower if she wanted to if she thought I wasn’t upholding the family name.

“Del, it’s not what it looks like,” I insisted.

A smile crossed her face. “It’s adorable, that’s what it is. Derek! I’ve found him.”

My sisters husband came into the room, looking worried, and then relief filled his face. “Oh. The others were worried when there was no sign of you, and you weren’t in your bed. Thought maybe you’d gone back out again.”

Henry was holding his nose, which it appeared that I had elbowed, and was bleeding. “I’m right here,” it came out muffled through his hands.

“Isn’t that adorable?” Delilah cooed. “He was keeping her company. You know, I thought something happened on Derek’s birthday, but Derek wouldn’t believe me.”

“Del, he was just keeping me company,” I said.

Henry nodded. “Nothing dirty happened here. I’m still with Vivian.”

Delilah frowned, and it occurred to me that my sister was not the biggest fan of Henry’s girlfriend. I wondered why. She’d been perfectly nice to me, and had even seemed to speak well of my sister.

“You know that girl is trouble,” said Delilah. “After that issue with----”

“Delilah, you don’t understand her half of the story,” objected Henry. “I’ve known Vivian my entire life, and I’m never going to give up on her. All I was doing was comforting Cecelia. That’s it. Besides, it’s Marlowe that’s gone over her. He practically got territorial the minute he saw her.”

I blushed. “Don’t give them ideas, Henry.”

“It’s true and you know it!” he insisted.

“Well, I’m very pleased that you two seem to be….friendly,” said Delilah like a grin.

“Thank you for getting her out of the house, brother,” said Derek, “we worried. The press liked seeing the pictures of you out, Cecelia. Everyone was concerned that you hadn’t been seen for days.”

I frowned, annoyed that people had got pictures. But I supposed that was my life now. I had to live with it.

“Don’t worry, Del,” said Henry, “Cecelia’s already been inducted into The Lonely Hearts Club, and half of the boys are already in love with her. She won’t want for friends.”

I groaned. “Wonderful. The last thing I needed was a bunch of rich, arrogant teenage boys annoying me.”

“I believe that’s called friendship,” said Henry. “And flirting with you, not  slowly rejoining the world, Cecelia.” annoying you, Porter.”

Delilah smiled. “Well, I’m relieved to see that you’re slowly rejoining the world, Cecelia.”

“Don’t get any ideas,” I said, “and Del, can I talk to you?”

Delilah’s face grew serious. “Of course, sis. Whatever is the matter?”

I glanced at the two royals. “Can I talk to you alone?”

“Right. Right. Come along, we’ll go have some tea in my parlor.” I didn’t know what was stranger. My sister having tea, or that she had a parlor. But regardless, I got up from bed and I followed her.

As we were walking, we passed a rumpled looking Marlowe coming out of the guest room that he stayed in while visiting. It was his father’s old room. Since his father was third in line for the throne, Marlowe didn’t live in the castle like Derek and his family.

Marlowe had kiss stains on his shirt, and smelled like cigarettes and booze. Which shouldn’t have bothered me as we’d spent the night at a nightclub, but the kiss stains on his shirt did bother me. Although I couldn’t put my finger on why exactly, and if I did, I would hate to think what would happen.

Marlowe walked past us, looking guilty, and when he saw Delilah he bowed deeply. “Princess,” he said.

“Your highness,” Delilah returned, a frown on her face. “What did you get up to last night? You know how the Queen is about outside guests---”

Marlowe shook his head. “I was with Margot. Margot Miller, the actress. Henry’s friend.”

Delilah’s frown lessened a bit. “Oh. From that television show?”

He nodded. “She’s already got an NDA with the palace.”

“NDA?” I asked.

“Non disclosure agreement,” he said, “it has to be signed, before any fraternizing. Your sister had to sign one before she started dating Derek.”

I glanced at Delilah. “You did?”

She nodded. “Standard protocol. And if you start dating someone, they’ll be one for them too. Plus the Queen will have to approve them, of course.”

“Lovely,” I muttered.

Privacy and free will, yet another thing to be stripped away from me. Delilah gave me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, while Marlowe wouldn’t quite meet my gaze.

“Cecelia….” he said my name like it was a wish on his lips, and it made me look up at him.

“Yes?” I asked.

“Did you sleep…um….”

I glared, and for one second I thought that he was going to accuse me of sleeping with Henry.

But he adjusted his loose tie, and said, “Did you sleep well?”  

I made a face. “I…yes…..I guess I did. Thank you for asking?”

“Right,” he said, “right. Very good. I’ll see you around this summer, then.” He clapped his hands together, and awkwardly backed away from us before turning and continuing on down the hall.

Once he was gone, Delilah looked at me in shock. I put my hand up. “Don’t say anything. Don’t get any ideas, Del.”

Delilah smirked. “I didn’t say one word.”

“Your face said a thousand. You’re planning a spring wedding in June of 2022 instead of my graduation party.”

“Well, maybe not that soon. Maybe like 2025.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t plan anything, because I am not going to fall in love with anyone royal. I am going to live a nice, quiet life.”

“What happened to wanting to be an artist?” Delilah asked.

“I can be an artist without being notorious,” I said.

Delilah made a face, but we had paused in front of a door. She opened it up, revealing a parlor room done in a dusty pink color. In the middle, there was a tea service that had already been set up.

“Have a seat,” she said, and she sat down in the chair across from the settee and I sat next to her on it. “What was it that you wanted to discuss?”

She poured us two cups of tea, making mine exactly the way I always took it. With honey, and sugar. Classic Delilah, who always remembered everything about everyone.

I took a breath. “Henry mentioned something about me going to his school in the fall.”

Delilah took a breath. “Ah. That. Yes, well we were going to gently ease you into it but….”

“Del, I should get to my old school. I understand not being able to live in the same house anymore, but why can’t I at least go to the same school? What about my friends?”

“The friends that all abandoned you after I married Derek?” she asked.

I shook my head. “That doesn’t matter. I need something that’s still mine.”

Delilah sighed. “Darling, I know that you would like to have something of your old life. But I’m afraid that’s just not possible, and I’m terribly sorry about that. The thing is, with Mum and Dad gone, things are going to be different for a while. You’ve got three years here, and then you can do as you like. But please, until then, just….try to make the most of it, alright?”

“I’m not going to have anything left of who I was!” I shouted at her.

Delilah stared at me.

 I realized exactly what I had said wrong. “Del, I don’t mean----”

“I’m your sister,” she said, “and you know, you’re not the only one that lost parents, Cecelia. I know this has been difficult, but I am doing the best I can. Right now, the best thing for you is to be in a safe place. Terrorists killed our mother and father. And I’m not letting the same thing happen to you, so yes, you are going to school with Henry and Marlowe. End of discussion.”

I stared at her, seeing a whole new view of my sister. This was not Delilah, the art history major who used to make me funfetti cakes on my birthday or get into a fight with me over using the bathroom too long. This was Delilah, Princess of England, and future Queen. It unsettled me, and I wasn’t certain that I liked it one bit.

“Fine,” I said, “fine. But once I turn eighteen, I am getting as far away from this place as possible. Is that understood?”

“Completely. Now, get out of my sight.” She shot me a dirty look, and with a curt nod, I left.

I walked out of the room, and I ran. I ran past at least two servants who shouted at me not to, and I didn’t care to stop. I didn’t stop until I was in the palace maze, out in the middle of nothing and nowhere.

Away from them.

I was breathing heavily from my run, and I managed to calm myself down. The maze had been built during the reign of Henry the Eighth, as a secret meeting place for him and Anne Boleyn. At the center of the maze, was a statue of the two lovers. At least that was what they said. Most people got lost before they could find it.

I jumped as I heard the sound of a guitar strumming. “Look up here, I’m in heaven, I’ve got scars that can’t be seen, I’ve got drama, can’t be stolen, everybody knows me now….”

It was a Bowie song. From his last album, Blackstar. I walked in search of the music, and I found Jude laying on the ground shirtless in only black jeans with his guitar over his chest.

When he saw me, he stood up, still playing guitar, and he got into my face, a grin on his. I blushed, unable to help myself. Jude had that effect on people, it seemed. He could make anyone fall in love with them without even trying.

“Maybe I should have been playing Simon and Garfunkel,” he said, “if I’d known I’d stumble across your pretty face, I would have been.”

I shook my head. “I’m glad you weren’t. My Dad used to sing that song to me, badly, all the time. Might have broke me.”

Jude shook his head. “Well, we wouldn’t want that now, would we?” He reached out and stroked one of my brown curls back behind my hair. “So, which one is it going to be?”

I frowned. “What do you mean, which one is it going to be?”

“Well, you know they’re both maddeningly in love with you, right?” said Jude. “Henry probably won’t admit it, because he’s got his girl. And his whole thing with Vivian is complicated. But, Marlowe’s free as a bird, unattached, and he doesn’t fall in love easily. I do wonder what it is about you that’s made them both fall so hard.”

I rolled my eyes. “They haven’t. Anyway, I can’t date them.”

“Why not?” Jude said. “You’re young, and unattached aren’t you? Unless, of course, you’re a lesbian, in which case Margot has expressed interest, and honestly she’s a catch. Could do worse.”

I blushed, flattered that Margot Miller of all people was interested in me. “If I were a lesbian, I would take her up on that offer. But, I am unfortunately, straight. And I can’t date the Princes.”

“Isn’t that the dream?” he asked.

“Perhaps for some,” I said, “but if I date them, I’ll never escape.”

“Escape what?”

“All of this,” I said, gesturing to my surroundings. “I know this is the life my sister wanted, and I’m happy for her. But I never asked to be part of the circus.”

Jude smirked. “Well, why don’t you come join mine? My PR’s been getting on me to get a girlfriend anyway, someone with a squeaky clean image. You’d do the trick quite nicely.”

I frowned. “The Queen has to approve who I date, and I doubt very much the Queen is going to approve of you.”

He laughed. “I once got s**t faced and peed in what turned out to be her walk-in closet. All she did was giggle and blush like a school girl. If you’d like, I could petition her today, and we could be dating by the end of it. You get to keep the Princes at bay, and I get to keep the fan girls at bay. What do you say?”

I stared at him. I couldn’t fathom why a worldwide singing sensation would even be the slightest bit interested in me. But I did know that if I were going to survive palace life, without winding up the next Tudor wife, I would need something between me and the Princes.

And an international pop star with tattoos, dimples, and a crooning singing voice sounded like just the thing.

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Petition the Queen. If she agrees, I’ll do it. I’ll be your fake girlfriend.”

He smiled. “I never said anything about fake, darling.” He reached out, and traced my jawline. My breath hitched at his touch.

“Everything alright, Lady Porter?” a voice behind me said.

It wasn’t just any voice. It was Marlowe’s. I froze, as if I’d been caught doing something I shouldn’t. Although I couldn’t quite figure out why. I glanced at Jude. “Better put that dream aside,” I told him.

The smirk on his face drooped, but with a glance at Marlowe, he understood. There was no world where I could be with him, without starting a fight I didn’t want to be part of. For now, as long as I was under the royals roof, I was going to have to play by their rules. That meant not dating rock stars that would make Marlowe want to punch them.

I turned around. Marlowe was in a different shirt, one no longer with lipstick stains. He wore a white polo, and khaki pants with a belt. If Princes had uniforms, that would be it.

Jude sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “Well, perhaps in another life then.” He winked at me, and with his guitar in hand, he walked away strumming the old Simon and Garfunkel song with my name in it. And I couldn’t help but blush.

Marlowe stared at me, a frown on his face. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” I said. “What do you want?”

He shifted awkwardly from side to side. “Cecelia, I understand that you’re going through mourning, but…..”

“Please don’t,” I said sharply.

“Don’t what?” he asked.

“Don’t do what you’re going to.”

“Would it be so wrong? I could make you happy, Cecelia. I can offer you protection in this world, and whether you realize it or not, you are part of this world.”

“Dating you would mean accepting that,” I said, “I don’t accept it. I’m going to have a life of my own, and I don’t care what you or the palace thinks about that.”

“I know we didn’t exactly get in on the right foot---”

I frowned. “Is that what you’re calling it?” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “Because as I recall, I remember you calling my sister trash. And then proceeding to call me trash, and insinuate that one way or another, I’d sleep with you too. Because all poor girls were made to be ruled. At my sisters engagement party, as you’ll recall.”

“I was drunk,” Marlowe reminded me, “I apologized, and we kissed, Cecelia. You can’t tell me that kiss didn’t mean anything.” 

I grimaced. I’d done everything in my power not to think about that kiss. To forget about the way that he’d pressed himself against me, or how his breath had felt against my neck. Or how he’d run his hands through my hair, or the flowers that he’d sent to me blue roses the next morning with a note that said simply I’m sorry. Blue roses. The rarest of flowers.

“Yes, I can,” I said, “that kiss didn’t mean anything.”

Marlowe’s nostrils flared, and he clenched his fists together. “The moment I saw you, I knew that you were going to be mine. We’re in the stars, darling, and we’re going to be together. You’ll see.”

“Lucky for me, there’s a million universes out there without you,” I replied, “now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to be alone.”

I stormed off back into the palace, and I could feel his eyes on me the entire time.