I didn't like what I heard at the palace.

I didn't like the giddy faces of Lady Llewellyn's parents. I didn't like the words from their mouth. I didn't like Josephine's silence even though she was silently pursing her lips and sighing all the while.

And I was sure mother would've loved them all.

Scranham Street looked much better up-close. Walking from the palace gates to the poor settlement took up quite a lot of energy, but the conversation we had still rung in my ears, pumping me up throughout the journey.

I took off my hat to scratch at my itchy head but put in on quickly when people walked by. It wasn't polite to take your hat off outdoors. Everyone knew that.
My face flushed when a lady looked at my hat, then gave a sharp eye at me. I didn't usually look into mirrors, but my mother said, when I flushed, I flushed really red.

The wet smell greeted my nose, mixed with the scent of fresh-baked bread from the bakery I passed. It didn't smell like Grapwall--but it felt like I belonged here.

It felt like home.

I smiled at the sight of Gulliver's Bookshop, in all yellow. The panes looked like rotten wood, stacks of books displayed by the glass. The door was left open, and the beautiful odor of vellichor pulled me in.

I stepped in, taking my hat and coat off. It only took me a few seconds to put them by racks before dashing to an aisle in between shelves.

I took my gloves off to run my hand over the book spines. A giddy warmth traveled inside my chest. The bad lighting reminded me of my study. Scribbling words at night. Having tea in the dark while gazing at the beautiful moon. The scratches of a pen. The magic of words coming alive on paper.

This is where I belong.

A sharp slice burned my pinky finger. I pulled back to see a red slash over it. I dipped it in my mouth, then squished my hands back into white gloves.

Fortunately, everyone was too mesmerized in their reading to notice me. My kind of people.
I fanned the hand around as the burn still struck, but thought nothing of the pain when I found Gulliver looking at me.

"Emerett," he smiled his broad smile, crossing his hairy arms. He looked over my appearance. "My, you look fancy today."

My eyebrows furrowed, my hair matted to my forehead from all the sweat. "Shouldn't you be at the counter?"

"Hired a new lad." he shrugged. "He needed a bit more practice, so I figured I'd let him have some space for a while."

Some space. I wish I had that.

"I had tea with Lady Llewellyn."
He nodded. "That's a big catch."

The statement made my chest burn, but not with that giddy warmth. It was as if it was aflame. I looked away, my fingers playing with pages from books. "I suppose so."

Gulliver was a big man, with red hair all over his head to his shoulders, and over his chin reaching to his chest. I wouldn't call him a friend--I'd gladly label him as one, but he preferred to be just an acquaintance.

"Oi," he called. "Don't touch those books like that."

"Sorry."
"Emerett," he shook his head and chuckled. "Still the same as ever. You just never change, do you?"

"What do you imply?"
"Always thinking more about books than people. I'm not saying your dream is bad--no, it's good. Your work is really good. But I don't think your ma would consent it."

At first, I wanted to deny that I had good dreams. Always crippled by shadows and screams.
But I understood that he meant my passion. My ambition. What I wanted to be.

And he was right.

"Oh," I muttered. "You think so?"

"Speaking of your dream..." he nodded over to the counter. "Follow me."

I clasped my hands together, shuffling behind him. I passed by framed portraits of authors and poets--like Shakespeare, Emily Dickinson, and Edgar Allan Poe.
A lightheaded breeze crawled into me, the lines from my reading last night coming to my head.

I wished someone would look at my portrait one day--and felt the same thing. If it could even make it to the walls.

The bookshop was warm and homely, especially with the wondrous smell of leather. Pages being turned chimed from here and there, people smiling at me when I walked by.

"Gideon," Gulliver sighed. "That book doesn't belong in there."

"It doesn't?" Gideon looked younger than me, his voice hadn't even cracked yet. He took a parchment and pondered. "But it should be, alphabetically. Dark comes after Dari."

In his hand was a book locked in golden chains. The jacket was of black and red and white, an odd symbol by the cover--with a writing, I failed to read.

It was tempting--the book--as if it was a force calling me in whispers. Begging to be read. Wanting to be opened. Waiting to be unlocked. To be discovered-

"What book is that?"

They both looked at me, and Gideon even offered it. But before I could touch it, Gulliver swiped it and slammed it down to his counter desk.

My eyes widened at the sudden aggressive move, my heart leaping. Gideon yelped, taking a step back.

"This one is special and dangerous," he mumbled, loud enough for us to hear. His eyes were like a storm. "It's not for sale. Never did and never will. There are too many secrets in this. This one belongs under my desk."

It took a moment of silence before Gideon nodded and slowly shoved it under. "Y... Yes, sir."

"Secrets?" I blurted. I shouldn't have asked, but my curiosity always got the best of me. "Why is it in chains?"

"It's nothing to be thought about, Emerett Wells," he dismissed. "It's chained because it should be."

"But-"
His hiss made me purse my lips, the burn on my finger coming back. Gideon hugged a handful of books and stepped away.

Whatever it was in the book, it made him protective. He didn't like talking about it.

Whatever book it was, it shouldn't be shown to me. I shouldn't have seen it--and Gulliver knew it too. Because I couldn't stop thinking about it, and I knew from that moment it would always tug at my mind. A mystery begging to be solved. A riddle to answer.

"Anyway," he said slowly, finally, his calm demeanor coming back. He reached over to a file, then picked a paper out and slid it into my hands. "You'd like this."

"A poster. Calling all writers, a...writing competition," I gasped and gaped at him. My lips tugged to a bright, big smile in some sudden way I wasn't aware of. I was bouncing up on my toes, never done that before except for the first time my mother was proud of me. "And the prize is getting published! Where...Where did you find this thing?"

"I got connections."
"Gulliver," I chuckled, crinkling the paper, holding it as tight as I could. "This is wonderful. I could accomplish my dream!"

"Does that make up your mood?"
"Of course it does, could I please, maybe-"

"Keep it? Go ahead."

Just that was enough to set me dreaming. To take my mind off everything. Off the chained book, off the paper cut.

Off the planned marriage I had to be part of.

Hey, guys! Sorry for the long wait, and the even slower pace...
I just don't want to overwhelm y'all with too much text for each Part. Don't worry, the exciting part (at least for me) gets in after just 2 more parts at most.

Anyway, good news for Emerett! He finally has a way to get his dream come true, but there's also the bad news. A planned marriage!

What's in the book? Why is it chained? Who actually is Gulliver? What got Emerett so cranky at first (though he just sounded a little hurt to me lol)? What do you guys think?

Don't afraid to give feedback! Please vote if you like it, and thanks for reading :)