Zelda didn't sleep well. In fact, she hadn't slept well in months. When she woke with the morning light, Imogen was asleep face down atop the covers of the opposite bed. The journal Zelda kept to pour her thoughts into so she could sleep still rested on her lap. Careful not to wake her slumbering roommate, Zelda grabbed her towel and headed for the showers. She was the only fourth year awake at this hour. As it seemed, most of the others had gone out their first Saturday back.
The bathrooms in Madame LeBleu's dormitories were always kept impeccably clean, and this morning was no exception. The black and white tiles and brass fixtures sparkled like they were brand new, and Zelda had it all to herself. After a warm shower, she headed back to her room to dress. She tried to keep quiet but the drawers of her ancient armoire creaked when she opened them to pull out a light sweater. Imogen stirred in her bed and lifted her head from the pillow.
"G'morning," she mumbled before pulling her pillow over her head.
"Hey, sleepyhead," Zelda whispered. Imogen moaned from somewhere in the downy depths. Zelda ruffled her dark, wet hair with a towel and sat down next to Imogen who still wore the red polka dot dress she had worn the night before. "I'm going shopping if you want to join?"
Imogen poked her head out from the pillow. Her eye makeup was smeared across her cheek. "Yes!" She jumped from her bed and grabbed her own towel to shower. "But you are buying breakfast," she added before bolting for the washroom.
Squeaky clean and with wet hair pulled back into matching french braids, Zelda and Imogen passed under the arched entry to Madame LeBleu's School for Godmothers. They headed for the nearest cable car stop and hopped on the line that carted city dwellers to the Castle District. The girls sat silently among the morning commuters, still wiping the sleep from their eyes. It was only September third and with the sun out, the streets were invitingly warm.
The cable car slowed as it entered the narrow, historic streets that surrounded the castle. Zelda, Imogen, and a host of tourists got off at the next stop. The girls followed the sweet smell of freshly baked delicacies to the nearest bakery and ducked inside. Even at eight in the morning, the line wrapped around the shop and they found their spot at the end.
"How was the band?" Zelda asked as they inched their way toward the counter and the glass case full of sweet goodies which smelled even better from inside the shop.
"So good. Dante wasn't there...in case you wanted to know." Imogen shrugged.
"Oh," was all Zelda managed to say for a moment. "Why should I care?" she said, wrapping an arm around her waist, which suddenly felt hollow. "I'll see him eventually and when I do, it'll be him who's sorry he let me go. I won't even give him a passing glance." At least she hoped she wouldn't.
"Good for you. He was a jerk." Imogen craned her neck to see what was left in the bakery case. "But let me see... Josephine Connelly was there but she was dancing the whole time so I didn't get to talk to her. Willa Bradford and Susan St. Germain stopped in and sat in a corner booth with their noses in the air for a half hour, then left without talking to anyone."
Zelda laughed. "Figures," she scoffed. They took a step forward and a plethora of golden brown pastries came into view.
"There weren't many guys there," Imogen bemoaned.
They reached the counter and a guy in a flour covered apron stepped up to take their order. His hair was a sandy blonde with a boyish curl. A lopsided grin formed across his face when his eyes met Zelda's. "Can I get something for you girls?" he asked, laying on the charm.
Zelda ordered a croissant for herself and two cinnamon palmiers for Imogen.
"Coming right up," the shop attendant replied. He made a point to flip the tongs before tossing their treats into a paper bag with a flourish. Zelda paid him and accepted the bag from his outstretched hand.
"Come back soon," he called after them as they headed for the door. Zelda gave him a little smile over her shoulder before stepping out onto the street. She handed Imogen the palmiers and wiped her sticky fingers on her jeans.
"He was cute. I think he liked you." Imogen wagged her eyebrows. "You should ask him for his number."
"Nah." Zelda picked off a layer of the croissant and plopped it in her mouth. "I could never date a baker. I wouldn't fit into my jeans!"
"Fine then," Imogen chirped. "Where to?"
"Books!" Zelda said with a little skip. She didn't have to look at Imogen to sense the eye roll.
Near the high outer wall of the castle grounds, they found a book shop on a sloping cobblestone side street. Zelda's pulse raced when they entered to the sound of the bell above the door. The place just smelled like old books. She resisted heading to the fiction section and got directions from a bespectacled clerk to where the magic books were kept. Imogen headed straight for the brightly colored magazine rack near the register.
In a dark corner of the shop, Zelda found the section labeled "Magic Arts" and pulled out the list of books required by Madame LeBleu's for fourth-year godmothers. Advanced Charms. Advanced Potions and Brewmaking. Magic Ethics. She placed them one on top of the other until the pile in her arms nearly toppled her. Zelda moved through the maze of bookshelves with her stack of precariously balanced tomes until she found her way back to the front of the dim and dusty shop.
"Another GIT, I see." The old shopkeeper smiled as he saw the titles Zelda placed on the counter.
Zelda nodded at the familiar nickname the locals used for a godmother in training. Most people knew a girl from Madame LeBleu's by the periwinkle collared dresses and navy berets they wore on formal outings, but few people bothered with magic books unless they had the gift themselves.
She glanced over at Imogen who had her nose in a tabloid emblazoned with the headline "Leo Madness" and a picture of Prince Leopold, son of Olisand's sovereign King Theodore. Imogen's rounded eyes scanned the pages hungrily before she caught Zelda's gaze.
"Don't give me that judge-y look!"
Zelda laughed and threw her hands up in defense. "No judgment. I just don't get the Leo Madness." She put air quotes around the words Leo Madness.
"He's dreamy," Imogen sang, clutching the glossy magazine to her chest. Leo's blue eyes peered over Imogen's arm at Zelda.
"I've lost track of how many boys you find dreamy," Zelda teased. She handed the shop owner a few bills for the books and waited while he counted out change.
Imogen held the magazine up to her face. "Come on, Zelda," she said in a deepened voice and pretended to be the prince and heartthrob. "Even you can't resist this smile." She placed the magazine atop Zelda's pile of books. "She wants this too," Imogen told the clerk.
"No, I don't," Zelda objected. She gave the confused man an apologetic smile.
"I'm paying," Imogen declared, handing the clerk five sovereigns and adding, "Keep the change."
The man bagged the books and the one magazine and handed them to Zelda who all but ran from the shop before Imogen could find another tabloid to push on her. Imogen jogged to keep up with Zelda's quick stride as she headed for the herb shop. "You'll have to read the interview with Prince Leopold's ex. It's riveting. Apparently, he was a really good kisser."
"He was dating some actress, right?" Zelda asked, surprised she even knew that much, but it was impossible to escape gossip about the royal family while living in Erimount.
"Yeah. That's the one who did the interview."
A little pang of guilt struck Zelda in the gut as she felt sorry for even having the magazine in her possession. It didn't take much for Zelda imagine the horror of reading what someone, a person she trusted, thought about her kissing. Prince or not, no one deserved to have that published about them for the entire world to know.
"He's smart, you know," Imogen added.
"Who?"
"The prince! He graduated secondary school at sixteen and he's already finished a law degree at twenty." Imogen rattled off the Prince's accolades as if she knew him like family.
Zelda tried not to laugh at Imogen's enthusiasm. She had to admit he was impressive – and had good bone structure. "That still doesn't account for his poor taste in women," she said.
Imogen nudged Zelda with her shoulder. "Perhaps he just hasn't met the right one yet."
It was Zelda's turn to roll her eyes.
After picking up a fresh stock of potion ingredients and wand polish, the girls hopped onto the cable car back towards the Fountain District and Madame LeBleu's. They got off a few blocks from Madame LeBleu's in one of the busiest spots in Erimount. Following behind a large company of tourists, Zelda and Imogen headed for Founder's Square, the location of St. Germain's Shoe Emporium. Even before noon, the square bustled with a familiar warmth. It was blocked off from cars, but a few people rode past on bicycles to stop at one of the many cafes that encircled the square. Everywhere, people sipped coffees under striped umbrellas at tiny tables, and at the very center, a fountain filled the air with the musical sound of falling water.
Zelda passed Founder's Fountain and watched a little girl toss in a coin and make a wish, as instructed by her mother. The fountain supposedly marked the spot of the very first wish made by the founders of Olisand, a fact which most locals found suspect – a nice story fabricated to attract tourist to an otherwise average city square. Zelda liked to believe the story. She was a godmother for goodness sake. Crazier things had happened.
On the opposite side of the square sat St. Germain's Shoe Emporium. Three stories tall and entire city block wide, George St. Germain's behemoth of a shoe store was the premier destination for shoes in the city. Zelda had tried on her saddle shoes from last year, but they had grown a bit tight in the toes. New shoes were in order and St. Germain's had pretty much driven all the other cobblers out of town. Plus, no self-respecting citizen of Erimount would be caught in anything but St. Germain's.
The windows of the shop sparkled in a dazzling display of the latest fall collection. Glittering gold heels adorned in crystal stars sat upon glass pedestals waiting to be snatched up for some romantic occasion. Zelda didn't let herself look for long as shoes were her only weakness besides books. 16
Inside the shop, they avoided the lavish displays to stave off temptation. Zelda flagged down the nearest sales girl in a gold skirt suit that matched the shoes in the window and got directions to the shoes of a more sensible nature. She directed them to an elevator and told them to take it to the third floor.
They rode the elevator a short way up when the doors parted to reveal a room of mahogany shelves full of loafers in every shade of leather.
"How about these?" Imogen asked, picking up a patent red pair of Mary Janes.
"Cute, but I need ones that fit the school dress code. Black or brown," Zelda said, placing the red shoes back on the shelf.
Further down the line she found a pair of brown, suede saddle shoes and tried on a pair in her size. There was a reason St. Germain's shoes were the only ones left in town. As Zelda slipped her foot into the leather shoe, she could have been sliding on a pair of plush slippers. The supple leather formed to her foot as she laced them up, and standing, walking, felt like dancing on air. "These," Zelda gasped before she carefully laid them back in the box between the crisp tissue paper folds.
"I want those," Imogen said, eyeing a boy their age across the aisle from them, trying on a pair of oxfords.
"I don't think they're your size."
"I want what's in them," Imogen said. Her hands flew to her sides as she straightened her blouse.
"Go talk to him. I'll go pay and then I'll meet you outside for lunch?" Zelda glanced at the chocolate haired boy who now looked their way. Imogen gave her a look that said "Wish me luck," then sauntered off towards her new distraction.
"Good choice," the cashier on the first floor said as she rang up the saddle shoes and placed them in a bag.
"Thanks," Zelda replied. She took the bag and returned to the square.
As she awaited Imogen's return, her empty stomach rumbled as the smells wafting from the cafes filled the air. She didn't have to wait long before Imogen skipped from the large gilded doors, beaming from ear to ear.
"Did it go well?" Zelda asked. She steered the bouncing Imogen toward the nearest cafe.
"Got his number," Imogen said, taking a seat at one of the tables of the sidewalk eateries. "He said he goes to Lord Scarlet's Academy and he has a friend who would like you if we wanted to go on a double date?"
"Oh," Zelda breathed, hiding her face behind the menu as she felt her color drain. She had enough on her mind with school starting and a boy would only complicate that. "I don't do blind dates," Zelda justified. "Plus I will be so busy with school this year. You know how much pressure is on me to be First Fairy. All of my sisters were."
"True," Imogen nodded. "You know Susan St. Germain will give you a run for your money, though."
"Yeah."
"But you can kick her butt."
They laughed.