Page 11 of Turret

I shook my head. “I can do it—” I started to reach for the cup but he held it out of reach.

“Let me assist you.” And he helped me take a sip. Chamomile, prepared the way I liked it, with just the right amount of cream, honey, and lemon.

I gave up the fight, but I didn’t do so happily. Quinn’s brow furrowed as he took in my displeased expression and pursed lips. “Are you well?”

There was no use lying; I’d already allowed too much of my moodiness to show for me to pretend I was well. “No. Your fretting is rather annoying.”

He looked as if I’d slapped him. He withdrew the cup he’d been trying to get me to drink from and the damp rag he’d reached over to put on my forehead. “I’m…just worried for you.”

“I know.” Though I was used to concern over my well-being marring my interactions with others, for some reason it bothered me more whenheexhibited it. Though as my guard it was his duty to protect me, in moments like this I felt all he saw was someone to watch over, as if there was nothing else to Princess Gemma. And perhaps there wasn’t. The thought was rather sobering.

Quinn was still blinking at me, looking rather hurt. My heart prickled with remorse. I hadn’t meant to cause him any additional distress; the poor man did enough of that on his own.

“I wish you saw me as more than a helpless princess to protect. I want to be something more than someone who’s constantly ill.”

He searched my expression and his own softened. He set aside both the damp rag and my tea and turned his full attention to me. “Youaremuch more than your illness, Gemma. I more than anyone know that. But the fact of the matter is you’re not always well.”

I scowled. I hated that he was right, that despite how desperately I wanted to be more than my illness, it was still a part of me, one of the prisons I couldn’t escape. “That may be true, but the way you’re treating me now is as if I’m an invalid on the brink of death.”

He had the sense to look contrite as his gaze took in my position weighed down beneath half a dozen blankets. “Perhaps…I got a bit more excited today than usual,” he admitted. “I suppose I was feeling rather helpless. After not being able to protect you from what the tower showed you, I felt the need to be more protective in other areas. I’m sorry.”

Knowing he meant well made it easy to forgive him. “I wish you’d trust me when I tell you how I’m feeling.”

“I will…if you promise to be more honest. But tell me:areyou feeling completely well now?” He gave me a look that dared me to claim I was feeling better than I actually was.

I analyzed and found that, despite my fiercest wishes, I was feeling quite tired and experiencing the beginnings of a headache forming at my temples. I sighed in defeat, my answer. His lips twitched and defiance rose in my breast. I lifted my chin.

“Be that as it may, all of this”—I gestured around me—”is a bit much, don’t you think?”

He once more took me in, piled beneath the blankets, and frowned. “Perhaps a bit; I’d hate for you to become overheated.” He promptly removed several and I relaxed in relief as some of their heavy weight was lifted. “I’m sorry, Gemma.” He avoided my eyes, as if he couldn’t give the apology directly to me. “I just want to help you, and since I can do nothing to take away the images the tower showed you…” He sighed as he removed one more blanket and the bowl of water with the cloth, but not the tea. “How can I make it up to you?”

“Next time, ask me what I require rather than assuming you know what’s best for me.”

He hesitated, as if such a promise was rather difficult for him to make, before he nodded with a sigh. “Very well, if that is your wish. Now I shall leave you for some much-needed rest.”

I nearly rolled my eyes that he’d already broken his promise to ask me what I needed…though I couldn’t deny I was feeling rather exhausted and would have asked for a chance to rest anyway, as much as I didn’t want to admit I needed it; I was tired of my frequent naps.

Why did the man know me so well?

With an almost mischievous knowing look, he bowed and took his leave. The moment the door closed behind him, I leaned back against my chair with a weary sigh. “The man is impossible.”

“He certainly is.” Melina sounded far too cheerful considering the circumstances. I cast her a disapproving look.

“You were no help.”

“Oh, you had it well in hand. You know Quinn wouldn’t have listened to me had I tried to interfere; he only listens to you.”

I snorted at that. “He doesn’t listen to me at all.”

“He does, which is why you were able to stand up for yourself; only you could have penetrated his nursing frenzy.”

My lips twitched. I suppose I had managed to put a stop to it before Quinn got too wildly out of control. “He is such a worrier.”

“Only with you.” Melina settled back in her nearby seat and took up her mending, falling silent as she concentrated on her stitches. I watched the flickering fire dancing in the hearth, the hypnotic movements only making me more drowsy so that it was difficult keeping my eyes open.

Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to take just a short nap…

But Melina’s next words dispelled all thoughts of sleep from my mind. “Don’t you wonderwhyQuinn is so attentive?” Her tone was sounding far too casual, which immediately aroused my suspicions about where this conversation was going.

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