Page 7 of Turret

The Gemma in the mirror slumped against the pillows with a weary sigh even as her gaze darted towards the window, open just enough to hear the sound of my siblings’ laughter as they played outside…without me. “But I want to go outside.”

“You’re too ill,” the maid insisted. “But they promised to visit you later and tell you of their adventures.”

Hearing of adventures secondhand just wasn’t the same as living them myself, but it was better than nothing. So I waited anxiously, measuring the endless, monotonous hours with each tick of the clock…only they never came, too busy with their lives to remember their sickly, neglected sister.

Reliving the memory brought back all the emotions it’d caused all over again—the restlessness and boredom, the sense of helplessness, and most of all the aching loneliness, as crushing now as it’d been then.

I tried to recapture this preferred numb state and hold it like a shield around my heart. This was why it was better to stop longing for the world outside, for it protected me from being continuously disappointed. And for the most part, my shield was strong enough that I often forgot that those emotions were still there.

This vision thankfully faded, but the room hadn’t yet finished with me. It held me within its clutches as other scenes played out before me in different mirrors, as if this room were a museum displaying all the pain the outside world had to offer—more memories from my sickly past, the constant longings to experience things that were continuously denied me, the broken promises of my siblings—especially from Reve—to visit, only to later forget. Then there were others with Mother—her constant disapproval, her dismissals, and most of all her disgust at having such a sickly daughter.

One in particular stood out amongst the rest: a rare evening when I’d been well enough to venture from my room to join a state dinner held in honor of the visiting King of Lyceria, presumably on the premise of searching for a bride for his son, Crown Prince Nolan, amongst the two Malvagarian princesses.

I knew my presence had been granted solely to increase Mother’s chance of forging such a coveted alliance. For a fleeting moment I’d hoped that perhaps I would be chosen, a marriage that would allow me to finally escape my confining life. Despite my pale, rather sickly complexion, I knew I was pretty in my own right, as well as trained in all manner of education and etiquette befitting a future queen. Could there possibly be a chance the king would pickme?

But despite having done my best to present the royal image expected of me, I hadn’t been able to mask my exhaustion, nor prevent myself from frequently coughing at the table, resulting in Mother’s sharp, disapproving glare, as if she thought I was trying to thwart the king’s interest on purpose.

Following the meal, the Lycerian king joined Mother in her sitting room for a private discussion. I passed the closed door on the way back to my bedroom and couldn’t help but pause to press my ear to the keyhole, too eager to see whether there was any chance of an alliance between the prince and myself. While I’d never wanted an arranged married, I longed to at least be considered and had no doubt I’d accept should the opportunity arise. I wanted to belong to someone, to be something more than the sickly princess who had no other purpose.

But such a wish felt impossibly out of reach, especially with the whispered snippet I overheard from the other side of the door. My heart lurched at the sound of my name.

“And you’re certain it’s not Gemma you want?” Desperation filled Mother’s voice, and not for the first time I feared she cared more about ridding herself of me than the benefits a prestigious alliance would bring our kingdom.

“Out of the question,” the Lycerian king said. “Lyceria could never accept such a sickly princess as their future queen. However, your second daughter, Princess Reve…”

I withdrew from the door, unable to bear hearing being compared to my healthier younger sister. Yet the king’s sharp words left me frozen in the corridor, the truth behind his rejection pressing heavily against my shoulders like a relentless burden. In that moment I realized my worth as a princess meant nothing, not when my title was continuously overshadowed by the illness I could never escape, no matter how desperately I wanted to.

The conversation ended and the door opened. The King of Lyceria strode past me without a glance. Mother followed close behind, looking rather pleased with herself for having successfully arranged such an advantageous marriage for one of her daughters, but her triumph faltered the moment she spotted me standing uncertainly outside the door.

Her expression darkened. “You’re useless, Gemma. You had but one task: to secure a match that would benefit our kingdom. What point is there in having a daughter if she can’t even managethat?” She dismissed me with a wave of her hand, sending me back to my room in tears, where I was forced to wile away the hours while life continued to pass me by.

After that I was never invited to another state dinner, not even when the King of Bytamia—a man who had four unmarried sons—visited. Such a pointed dismissal from Mother only proved I’d lost my purpose as a princess.

Eventually this dark memory faded from the tower room, but it was quickly followed by scenes of all the frightening things that had occurred after I’d been locked within these walls—Drake finding himself trapped in a mirror, Briar growing weaker and weaker from his cursed connection to the enchanted palace gardens, Reve becoming cursed and losing her memory…and eventually her wandering lost in the woods, confused with no idea of who she was.

The mirrors’ visions continued but skipped forward in time to events it’d shown me more recently. Drake had eventually escaped the confines of his own prison, but he didn’t seem any happier. I saw several visions from his married life, ones I knew weren’t my business viewing—tears from his wife as she repeatedly lost each of her pregnancies, the stress and heartache of each of their failures to start a family, his own worry and distress over the situation, the tension such a trial created in their relationship…everything to mar what was supposed to be a happily ever after, one I was beginning to fear didn’t exist.

The tower’s message was clear: I wouldn’t find any more joy beyond these walls than I already enjoyed here.

Another nearby mirror stirred to life, revealing a flashback I hated above all others: the day I’d become trapped in this tower. Mother had invited me on a rare and unexpected carriage ride with my sister and my two faithful companions. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d left the palace, and though I’d been wary, I was quickly distracted by all the passing sights outside the carriage window.

It eventually rattled to a stop and we exited the carriage. The woods were thick, filled with the scent of pine and earth, and a thick mist hovered over the trees. I shivered and pulled my shawl more tightly around my shoulders, pausing when Reve quite suddenly handed me her cloak, a rather surprising gesture coming from her; its warmth dispelled much of the chill, one that was almost welcome considering it meant I was outside for the first time in months.

My gaze took in every detail as we picked our way through the thick forest, Quinn faithfully by my side. Soon a spacious clearing loomed ahead, where a tower stood erect before us, its grey stones glistening with an almost enchanted quality.

Mother paused in front of the tower’s base, which had no door. “Here we are,” she said with forced brightness.

My brow furrowed as I took in the towering structure. “What is it?”

Mother’s smirk was less loving and more triumphant. “It’s a surprise I’ve created especially for you.”

My confusion deepened. “What need have I for a tower?” The wariness I’d struggled to mask escaped, causing my voice to shake.

“It’s an enchanted tower,” Mother said. “You’ve spent far too long languishing at the palace. I’m hoping a much needed change of scenery will do you good and help you heal.”

Hurt settled over me as I understood her meaning. “You’re sending me away?” It was the manifestation of my worst fears. As if sensing my distress and aching to provide me with some small form of comfort, Quinn took a protective step closer.

Mother’s responding smile was entirely emotionless. “It’s for the best, my dear. I know palace life has been tiring. The enchanted tower has many healing qualities that will be good for you.” She urged me closer to the turret, as if she meant to force me to enter. I stumbled backwards and nearly fell, only steadied by Quinn’s firm yet gentle hold.

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