CLARA HAD LOST count of the number of books she'd tried to no avail. She cursed beneath her breath, wishing she'd paid just a little more attention the first time she'd been there. Evidently, the longer she took to locate the book, the more anxious she felt; with the threat of the king's arrival doing little to help settle matters.
It was with the same troubling thoughts in her mind that she reached forward to tug on the next book, alarmed upon finding it a tad bit more difficult to handle than the rest. When she was finally able to free it partway from the shelf, she heard it—the loud mechanical whirring that resonated throughout the library as the bookcase began its ascent to reveal the hidden passageway beyond.
Clara barely had time to register her sudden twist of luck as she hurried into the waiting abyss. She startled when the whirring continued, the bookcase slamming shut behind her soon after, effectively shrouding the passageway in complete darkness.
The torches started lighting up just then, giving her time to adjust to the orangey glow and the eerie shadows cast upon the opposite wall.
Clara pressed forward, rushing through the passage with vigour—the threat of being discovered tugging her along with the urgency to complete her mission as quickly and as thoroughly as possible. Before long, the mouth of the passageway widened and she found herself in the king's private office.
The thought of losing precious time urged her on as she began her search of the surrounding area. She didn't know exactly what she was looking for, but she decided to take Celdric's words into consideration and base her search on a dagger of sorts.
Clara started pulling open the desk drawers, finding nothing out of the ordinary within, with majority containing stacks of writing pads, inked bottles, and folders crammed full of research materials. Her hopes—though fleeting as they were, to begin with—was starting to dwindle the more she searched.
She stood with a huff and glanced around the office. With the desk in the clear, there was hardly anywhere else for her to search. The room was as bare as it was functional, the desk itself a prominent centrepiece for the entire space.
Her gaze strayed throughout the circumference of the room, landing on the painting hanging above the fireplace just as an idea struck her. She reached for the armchair, pushing it as close to the fireplace as possible before clambering onto it. With as much strength as she could muster, she pushed the painting askew in an attempt to get a glimpse of the bricked wall beneath.
Her silent anticipation was dashed when her eagerness was met with nothing but disappointment. A hidden safe was pushing it, as far as creativity went, but she couldn't help it. Especially when her desperation was starting to seep through the cracks.
Clara was about to replace the frame to its rightful position when it slipped from her hold. The heavy painting slammed against the wall, the force of which caused her to stagger where she'd been balanced precariously on the chair. She teetered, flailing her arms in a measly attempt to grab hold of something to cushion the impact of her inevitable fall.
She grazed the rough surface of the brick wall as her fingers dug into the crevices between each slab, hoping against all odds it'd be enough to steady herself.
All was still for a moment, though the peacefulness did not last. The brick Clara had been holding onto for dear life was starting to loosen in her grasp, prying itself from its designated spot on the wall. The realisation caused terror to strike her—a mere second of fear—before the brick detached completely, sending Clara pummelling to the ground.
She stood, wincing at the sharp pain shooting up from her hip. She rubbed the sore spot lightly as her gaze wandered to the cause of her misery: the dratted brick. With a heavy sigh, she bent forward to retrieve it, immediately glancing towards the gaping hole in the wall. It would be a miracle if the king did not notice the destruction she left in her wake.
Pushing the thought aside, she reached to place the brick in its spot only to be stopped when she realised something within was keeping her from her task. She stood on her toes, prodding with the tips of her fingers until they grazed over what appeared to be a leather covering.
Retrieving it with much difficulty, she found within her grasp, not a dagger as anticipated, but rather, what appeared to be a mediocre wooden stake wrapped in a sheath made of leather.
Clara stared at it, uncertain about her recent discovery. She'd been so focused on thinking that the weapon was an intricately carved ornate dagger, that the possibility of it otherwise coming as somewhat of a shock to her. She definitely would not have assumed it to be a simple wooden stake that appeared to be nothing out of the ordinary.
She lifted the weapon, twirling it in her hands and feeling its weight in the palm of her hand. She wondered briefly how something so unassuming would be capable of inflicting enough damage to kill an angel.
She didn't have much time to ponder over her curiosity, knowing full well she was on the clock. Shoving the brick back in its place, she moved to wrap the stake in its sheath before hurrying to leave.
She gave the office a glance through, ensuring she'd left everything the way she'd found them. Satisfied, she tucked the weapon securely under her arm before making her way down the passage. It was only when she reached the entrance did it occur to her she had no idea how to get it open.
She felt the back surface of the bookcase, but its smooth exterior made it clear there were no secret traps or indentions capable of triggering its opening. A thought came to her as she glanced at the row of torches lining the sides of the walls. She reached for the one closest to the bookcase and gave it a rueful tug.
Several seconds passed in silence before the familiar mechanical whirring echoed around the darkening passageway. Clara glanced over her shoulder to find the torches in the midst of fizzing out one at a time just as the bookcase opened to reveal the king's library.
Clara was overcome with impatience, her mind racing a mile a minute and conjuring the worse possible scenarios of the scene that would unfold before her. She could not stand to wait a moment longer, the horrible anxiety creeping up on her with a looming threat.
The second the bookcase revealed an opening wide enough for her to pass through, Clara bounded straight into the library. She looked around her and almost collapsed in relief when she realised her anxiety had been for nought—the king had not yet returned from his preoccupations.
With no time to waste, she hurried to conceal the weapon as best she could without raising any suspicions upon the king's return. On this front, at least, she'd come prepared. Lifting the hem of her skirt past her knees, she felt the fabric for the pocket sewn on the underside. Thankfully, the weapon was the perfect size to be slipped within the material without much difficulty.
Just as she straightened and righted her skirt around her, she felt the first gusts of wind disrupting the stillness in the air.
It would appear she was just in time for the king's arrival.
YOU ARE READING
Obsidian's Reign ¹
ParanormalClara Avery was a normal human girl. Or, at least, that was what she'd been made to believe. And yet amidst the dying flames of her ruined car, the few boxes of her personal belongings, and her relentless bad luck, Clara has something far more valua...
