More than half an hour had crawled by, and the line outside the Royal Bookstore seemed as stationary as the carved statues of winged lions at its entrance. Emma sighed heavily, folding her arms as impatience gnawed at her. Around her, murmurs of frustration rippled through the crowd.
"The waiting line isn't moving at all," someone nearby muttered with a sharp edge in their voice.
"Maybe the royals are inside," another speculated, their tone a mixture of awe and irritation.
A few heads turned toward the grand, gilded doors of the bookstore, now guarded by two imposing figures clad in enchanted silver armor. The guards stood unmoving, their faces hidden beneath helmets adorned with glowing runes. The crowd's impatience finally bubbled over when a bold elf man, dressed in a finely tailored green cloak, stepped out of line. His golden eyes gleamed, as he approached the entrance.
"Excuse me," the elf began, his voice firm but polite, "why isn't the line moving?"
The nearest guard turned sharply toward him, the faint hum of a magical barrier emanating from their armor. "GET BACK IN LINE!" the guard barked, their voice amplified by an enchantment, making it echo ominously.
The elf hesitated, clearly weighing his options, before raising his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. No need to yell," he said, retreating back into the queue under the wary gaze of the guards.
Emma, observing from the rear of the line, clenched her fists in frustration. Her patience had worn paper-thin, and her thoughts swirled with barely restrained fury. Why are they being so thoughtless? she seethed internally. I need those books, or I swear I'll rip someone to shreds! Though the words roared in her mind, she kept her expression carefully neutral.
An hour dragged on, the line inching forward at a pace that felt glacial.
Suddenly, the rhythmic clatter of hooves echoed across the street, drawing everyone's attention. A procession of guards on majestic horses emerged, their armor polished to a dazzling sheen that reflected the golden hues of Eldo-Clearoth's glowing streets. They escorted an elegant carriage, its body carved from a single piece of enchanted ivory wood and inlaid with gleaming sapphire accents. The horses themselves were creatures of myth—winged steeds whose feathers shimmered with iridescent light.
"Look, it's a royal carriage," someone exclaimed, pointing excitedly.
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"I heard the princess of the Elverian Kingdom is visiting Princess Agatha today," another chimed in, setting off a wave of hushed conversations.
"Maybe it's the elf princess inside," a woman speculated, her voice tinged with awe.
"I didn’t know the two kingdoms were so close," Emma murmured, her curiosity momentarily distracting her from her annoyance.
As the carriage disappeared into the distance, the chatter in the crowd grew louder, but Emma’s attention was abruptly pulled elsewhere.
Her stomach rumbled.
Emma stiffened, a blush creeping up her cheeks. Oh no. She turned to her mother, her voice carefully controlled. "Mom, can I go use the bathroom?"
Vivian gave her a questioning look but nodded. "Of course. Let me come with you."
Emma waved her hands frantically. "No, no, no! I’ll be fine on my own. I promise I won’t wander off."
Vivian hesitated but eventually sighed. "Alright, Emma. But stick to your word."
Emma flashed a sheepish smile before darting off, weaving through the crowd as she scanned her surroundings. It didn’t take long for her to realize a glaring problem.
I have no idea where the bathroom is.
She bit her lip, glancing around helplessly. Just as panic began to creep in, a human woman passed by, her dress shimmering with enchanted embroidery that danced like starlight. The woman noticed Emma's discomfort and paused, speaking in a lilting tone that carried an almost melodic quality.
"If you’re looking for the bathroom, dear, take the left side of the bookstore. There’s a corridor leading to the female facilities," she said in fluent Elven, her kind smile easing Emma’s nerves.
Emma bowed her head gratefully. "Thank you!" she exclaimed before dashing off in the direction the woman had pointed.
When she arrived, Emma stopped in her tracks, her jaw dropping. The restroom was a work of art. The walls and floors gleamed with polished magical crystal, their surfaces a mesmerizing blend of gold and cerulean. Soft, ambient light radiated from runes etched into the walls, casting a calming glow. Enchanted fountains lined one side of the space, their water cascading in endless loops of sparkling liquid.
How is this even a bathroom? Emma thought, almost laughing at the absurd opulence. For a moment, she entertained the idea of staying longer just to soak in the elegance.
Eventually, she tore herself away, her mission to return to the line taking precedence. She retraced her steps, lost in thought about the extravagant display of wealth and magic she had just witnessed.
But as she neared the line, her steps faltered.
From a shadowed alcove near the side of the bookstore, she caught a low, murmured voice.
“All the traps have been set,” it said, the words barely audible but carrying an ominous weight.
Emma froze, her heart skipping a beat as she strained to hear more. But the voice fell silent, leaving her with only the hum of the city’s magic and the chatter of the crowd.
Her hands clenched into fists, and she glanced toward the line where her mother waited. For the first time, the allure of books seemed secondary to the unease curling in her chest.
What traps? she wondered in disgust, her mind slightly racing. And for whom?