The key Rafay gifted me opened many doors of opportunities in the past few days. When I had gone in for the first time, my eyes could not believe the sheer amount of reading material I had at my disposal.
The library was a grand, opulent space, adorned with intricate woodwork and brass accents. Towering shelves lined the walls, filled to the brim with leather-bound texts of all shapes and sizes. The air was fragrant with the scent of aged paper and polished mahogany. Artfully designed glass panels allowed soft light to filter into the room, casting a warm glow on the rows of books. Plush armchairs and cushioned window seats beckoned, inviting visitors to lose themselves in a captivating world of literature.
It was not difficult to tell which room was off limits. Hidden in between the towering acloves of tomes was an arch-shaped door that stood as a masterpiece of elaborate craftsmanship. Meticulously carved motifs graced the rich and warm rosewood. Light from the windows casted an ethereal glow upon it, adding to its elusive and enchanting nature.
Rafay never leaves the door unlocked. Out of curiosity, I have checked, but my efforts go unrewarded. I've checked every morning after his briefings with the Royal Court, as well as every evening after he retires for the night.
At the moment, I'm trying my luck again. I retrieve a hairpin from my braid and insert it into the lock, jiggling it around to hear that sweet clicking sound.
Kuch nahi.
Frustrated, I return the pin back into my hair and drape my dupatta over my hair again. The more Rafay is secretive about the room, the more I want to know what he's hiding.
The sound of footsteps has me scrambling to put distance between the door and I. Frantically, I look around for an escape, and my eyes fall on a hidden door behind an unbelievably ugly potted plant. Once outside the library, I survey my surroundings, seeking an escape route that wouldn't lead me toward the staircase where the sounds originated. My eyes land on a hidden door behind an incredibly unattractive potted plant in the hallway.
I quietly slip through the door just as I hear the footsteps reach the top step of the staircase.
With my back pressed against the wall, I slowly inch away from the door, careful not to make a sound. I hear multiple voices outside, discussing what sounds like kingdom politics.
As my eyes adjust to the darkness of the unfamiliar room, I take in the details of the space. It's a narrow chamber, enclosed by aging brick walls adorned with dusty, antique windows. The staircase spiraling upwards appears worn and weathered. The dimness adds to the air of mystery, hinting at secrets waiting to be unearthed within this secluded tower.
The foyer at the top has a single wooden door with a sliding rounded-bar closure. Luckily, there's no lock attached to it. I reach for the handle and slide it to the right. With a smooth motion, the door swings open, releasing a flood of sunlight into the tower
Squinting against the blinding light, I raise a hand to shield my eyes. As my vision adjusts, I find myself immersed in a verdant oasis. Towering trees loom overhead, their lush foliage casting a cooling shadow over the courtyard. Delicate vines of ivory jasmine intertwine between branches, creating a breathtaking floral canopy. At the heart of it all, an ornate fountain gushes crystal-clear water, its soothing melody echoing across the vast pond that encircles it. Surrounding the water's edge, vibrant flowers of unfamiliar hues burst forth from lush greenery, painting the scene with a riot of color. I reach out to touch a gulab, its velvety texture brushing against my fingertips. Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply, letting the fragrance envelop me.
As I venture further, I stumble upon a garden of abundant vegetables and fruits. Rows of leafy greens stretch out before me, their vibrant hues contrasting beautifully against the rich brown soil. Plump timatar hang from sprawling vines, their glossy red skins gleaming in the sunlight. Nearby, clusters of plump strawberries peek out from beneath their leafy canopy, promising a burst of sweet juiciness with every bite.
YOU ARE READING
Phool for You |Royal Retelling 1|
Romantikپھول (Pronounced p-hool) : n. Flower * * * * * Had someone told Mahroosa that she would meet her husband for the first time on her wedding day, she would've deemed it as unlikely as a fairytale penned by ancient scribes. Little did she know that th...
