Page 29 of Turret

With this shift in my thoughts, I could finally hear the silent beckoning from the herbs filling the room as the passion I’d tried to bury began to awaken. Even if Quinn and I didn’t have a future together, there was no need to lose everything simply because I’d lost him. Despite my pain making me feel as if I couldn’t go on, life would continue, and I could find joy again…beginning now.

At my silent resolution, the tower suddenly stirred once more. It had been rather silent after leading me to this room, as if exhausted from its efforts in bringing me here. I rested my hand on the wall, allowing its faint message to seep over me—there are more ways to cure a broken heart than with magic.

I barely had time to ponder such a strange message before I sensed its desire to show me something. I followed its invisible guidance, and on my third turn about the room, I suddenly noticed a tucked-away cabinet, one I’d never seen before; I half wondered if it’d only just appeared.

I crouched on my heels and peered inside to discover an ancient book. My skin tingled as I caressed the cover, and a cloud of dust surrounded me as I pulled it out. By its title I realized it was another herbal guide. Curious, I thumbed through the yellowing musty pages, scanning the faded titles of the recipes, each of which described different elixirs.

I paused on the fifth remedy and stilled, my breath catching. I read the recipe’s description again, not once but twice, not daring to believe the condition it professed to aid—for it matched the one that had ailed me all these years. Could this be…a cure?

Excitement rose. I immediately got to work, gathering the needed ingredients before immersing myself in creating the elixir. As I surrounded myself in the scents of minced herbs and settled into my familiar preparations, a feeling stirred within my heart, one I’d previously thought dead.

This warmth didn’t mend my broken heart, but it did provide a semblance of peace as I focused on a meaningful purpose rather than allowing myself to wallow in my own misery. If I could cling to this passion, I needn’t entirely drown in darkness.

When I finished, I had a vial of orange liquid that matched the color described in the book, yet I still double-checked the ingredients and instructions to ensure I’d done it right. I had, though I still hesitated in drinking it, unsure I could trust my efforts considering my inexperience.

The tower’s soft and gentle encouragement enfolded me like an invisible embrace, lending me the bravery I needed. With a wavering breath, I drank the elixir.

It was warm and soothing, and moments after sipping the citrus liquid, the exhaustion from my latest bout of illness began to dissipate, providing relief from the exhaustion that had plagued me for so long it felt like an extension of my body. I’d grown so used to carrying the burden of my condition I almost didn’t notice it anymore, and though the elixir hadn’t cured all my symptoms, it did lift much of the burden from my shoulders, leaving me feeling better than I had in years.

Midst my disbelief and excitement, I tried not to get my hopes up too much just in case this remedy’s effects were temporary like the many I’d tried in the past. I held the vial of tonic close, a gift from the tower that allowed me to believe that perhaps this one would be different if I took it regularly, and in this moment that was promising.

Time would tell whether this elixir would merely disguise my symptoms or actually heal me. In the meantime, though herbology hadn’t cured my broken heart, it’d given me a purpose that would stave off my heartache. And that, for the moment, was a start.

Chapter 11

Itook the elixir over the next few days and continued to steadily improve, for each dose either eased a different symptom or alleviated others when they eventually returned. And though those flare-ups were discouraging, overall the trajectory was positive. My hopes increased, yet I wasn’t ready to believe I’d found a cure, so for the time being I kept my new tonic a secret from Quinn and Melina.

But while my health was improving, my relationship with Quinn remained distant, something that grew more unbearable with each passing day. Avoiding him felt like the safer path, so despite how much I missed him, I made no move to bridge the unbearable distance. I didn’t know if I dared hope that what Melina had said might be true. I was afraid if I spent too much time with him, I would look for clues that he felt the way she still believed he did, so I avoided him altogether.

Being near him only reminded me of all I’d lost; he’d become one of the frequent visions the tower showed me in its mirrors. His rejection tainted our friendship, and, unable to bear losing him completely, I stayed away in order to preserve what I could before it too was stolen; if I couldn’t have Quinn, I wanted to at least keep our friendship.

I should have known I couldn’t avoid him forever, for in the end his concern for my well-being was stronger than his need to keep away. Which was how he finally tucked his whittling away and left his usual guarding post to bridge the vast gulf his rejection had created between us and approach me one afternoon as I attempted to read in the parlor. He normally didn’t disturb me, especially when I studied herbology, but he’d been watching me long enough to tell I hadn’t turned any pages for half an hour, my book merely a cover for my restless desperation for a distraction.

“Princess?” Quinn’s voice was hesitant. Fear for the upcoming confrontation tempted me to ignore him, but he sounded so nervous and I cared too deeply for him to play such a petty game.

I looked up to find him shifting anxiously from foot to foot, so opposite his usual rigid manner. “Yes, Quinn?”

He released a whooshing breath. “Despite how long I’ve been trying to figure out how best to broach this conversation, I’m unsure how to begin.”

My pulse hammered nervously, and for a moment I was tempted to put off a conversation that would undoubtedly be difficult to endure. But Quinn looked so anxious, giving me hope that he was also burdened by what had transpired between us. If he wouldn’t let me share his other burden he’d alluded to, the least I could do was help alleviate this one.

I patted the spot beside me in the window seat, inviting him to join me, but he rigidly shook his head. My heart prickled at the rejection, but I hastily shoved the emotion away before he could detect it. “What do you wish to discuss?”

But my attempts to mask my hurt failed. He studied my expression a long moment before he silently settled beside me. Though I welcomed the cedar-scented warmth of his comforting presence, it only reminded me of the last time we’d sat so close and the painful direction that interaction had taken.

I stiffened and leaned away. “You don’t have to sit near me just to appease me.”

He sighed. “Believe me, I’m not doing it to appease you. If only you knew how much I long to be near you every waking moment.”

My heart lurched at his words, far different than the ones he’d spoken to me before. “What?” I stammered.

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “Your shock isn’t surprising, not when our last conversation gave the complete opposite impression of my true feelings.”

I didn’t want to revisit that dark memory, yet the unresolved hurt made it difficult to keep it in the past where it belonged. “When you rejected me.”

Fierce regret filled him as he scooted closer. “Oh, Gemma, it pained me to do such a thing; only my caring for you gave me the strength to push you away. Yet in the days that followed, I realized that in my effort to protect your feelings I was doing the very thing I hate the tower for: taking away your choices. You should be free to choose the life you want to live.”

He hesitated before taking my hands to hold them comfortably in his, something he’d never done before. My breath caught and I kept very still in case one movement caused him to pull away.

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