Chapter 31 The Bookstore Trap
I wasn't staring at that map for fun yesterday.
I was tracking. Julian Vance isn't exactly a mystery.
The guy is a habitual machine. Every Tuesday, he hits this specific bookstore to pick up dry, boring military history archives.
And Gisella? She's a sucker for the shop's "rare poetry collection."
It was a classic pincer move, force them into the same narrow aisle during a rainstorm, and nature does the rest.
Maybe at this situation, both of them will reconcile after last argument.
The sky just puked a grey drizzle all over the city, turning the capital into a foggy, miserable mess.
Perfect. That's exactly what I needed to make sure Julian didn't leave the shop early.
I slipped into Alten Bookstore right before the downpour got bad.
The place smelled like rotting paper and dead dreams.
It was cramped, dusty, and totally perfect for trapping two people who were too stubborn to talk to each other.
I waded through the narrow aisles, checking the angles.
If I stood here, and they stood there...
yeah, they'd be shoulder to shoulder in seconds.
No escape. The rain was slamming against the windows now, turning the alley outside into a swamp.
I checked my pocket watch. Julian should be walking in any second to shake off his cloak, and Gisella was already browsing the 'Romance' section near the front.
It was going to work. Finally, a plan that didn't involve me almost getting arrested or executed.
I headed to the back of the store, toward the philosophy and ethics section.
It was the furthest point from the door, dark as hell, and dead silent.
I just wanted to hide back here and wait for the inevitable "oops, sorry I bumped into you" drama to start.
I reached the very back aisle, where the dust was thick enough to write my name in.
I was just checking to make sure the books were stacked enough to block the view from the front, when the hair on my arms stood up.
My spine went rigid. The shop was dead quiet, save for the rain drumming on the glass outside.
But I heard it. A sound that didn't belong in a dusty, paper filled aisle.
Thud.
Slow. Deliberate. Heavy.
Not the light, shuffling steps of a bookworm.
These were military boots. Someone was walking down the aisle behind me.
And whoever it was, they were big. Really big.
I held my breath, turning slowly. I didn't want to look, but my body was moving on autopilot.
I reached the end of the shelf and stopped.
My exit, the only way back to the main aisle, was blocked.
A massive shadow stretched across the floor, long and dark, covering the entire walkway.
I looked up. And up. A tall, imposing figure stood there, practically filling the space between the shelves.
He didn't move. He didn't speak. He just stood there, staring at me with those dead, cold eyes, blocking the only way out of this hellhole.
Claus.
My heart didn't just sink, it disintegrated. He wasn't supposed to be here. He was supposed to be at the palace, or the barracks, or literally anywhere else.
"You're a long way from the ballroom, Ilse," he said, his voice quiet, vibrating in the tiny, cramped aisle.
I was trapped. Between him and the wall of books, I didn't have anywhere to go. My plan to set up Julian and Gisella just turned into my own personal execution chamber.