Page 13 of Turret

He searched my expression for a moment before glancing sideways at Melina. “Perhaps we can find a task for the princess.”

Hope swelled and I straightened with a jolt.

My handmaiden nibbled her lip. “Have the princess help in the kitchen? I’m not sure…”

“It need not be a large task,” I said desperately. “Just please give me something to do before I go mad.”

She considered for a moment more before sighing in acquiescence. “Very well, if it will spare you from recklessly overexerting yourself again in the future.” She retrieved a bowl of peas and placed them in front of me. “You can shell the peas. First, remove the stem and any stringy fibers with a knife, then open the pod and gently push the peas out with your fingers.” She demonstrated each step slowly so I could see how it was done before she glanced up with a look inviting questions.

But I had none. I eagerly went to work at the task. Trimming the stems off was easy enough, but opening the pod proved trickier. I tried to slice along the rim with my nail and push the peas out with my thumb like my handmaiden had shown me, but the pods didn’t always open easily, or I’d manage that task only to squish several peas while trying to extract them. It resulted in several squashed peas.

I giggled as another crushed between my fingers. “Oops, it’s a good thing I’m a princess rather than a housewife.”

“It just takes practice,” Melina said. “The more you perform the task the easier it becomes. My sister and I used to have contests to see who could shell the most peas the fastest; we often filled an entire bowl in only a few minutes.”

My eyes widened as I took in the bowl bursting with unshelled peas. Acquiring such a skill seemed like a far more useful way to spend the hours I usually spent languishing away in my room without a purpose. Perhaps the next time a bout of illness forced me into bed, I could bring some peas in order to pass the time in a way more productive and interesting than embroidery; one could only create so many samplers.

I contentedly went about my task, likely taking far longer than Melina expected, but I was grateful she allowed me to help all the same. Soon I was humming, only pausing to giggle each time the soft vegetable accidentally squished between my fingers.

I soon felt the familiar gaze of my guard and once more lifted my eyes to meet his. He was watching me with a rather soft look, seeming to take great pleasure in my contentment. My cheeks warmed and I hastily lowered my gaze. Was that the look of a man in love, as Melina suspected?

I gave my head a rigid shake, dispelling the foolish notion.Your happiness only pleases him because he’s your guard,notbecause he’s in love with you.

Yet I couldn’t keep my eyes lowered for long; the sight of peas—a combination of whole ones and squashed ones—just wasn’t as interesting as watching Quinn work. My gaze was repeatedly drawn to him—the concentration lining his handsome face, his broad shoulders, the methodical way he chopped the vegetables with movements as careful and precise as everything else he did…it was almost mesmerizing.

My cheeks warmed the longer I watched him. Embarrassed that Melina’s suspicions had caused me to behave so foolishly as togawkat my guard, I tried to look away…only to find that I couldn’t. I found myself rather fascinated by the way he worked…and soon I began to notice a few things that seemed ratheroff.

Though his movements were slow and deliberate, they seemed distracted. His hand often fumbled with the knife and he seemed to stare long and hard at its placement before slicing. He finished cutting the carrots and searched for a bowl to put them in, not with his eyes…but with hishands, and almost knocked the bowl over when he reached for it.

My brow furrowed and my peas were soon entirely forgotten, my attention entirely eclipsed by Quinn. A strange apprehension trickled over me, one I couldn’t explain in words, as Quinn felt for the bowl and put the chopped carrots in, his gaze squinting whenever he lowered it to monitor his task. He finished—missing several scattered carrot pieces—and picked up the knife to slice the potatoes, but he didn’t quite place it right, so that when he brought the blade down…

My sharp gasp mingled with his cry of pain as the knife sliced his finger. The knife clattered to the counter, where a small pool of blood was quickly forming.

“Quinn!” I sprang from my seat too quickly and a wave of dizziness overcame me, forcing me to take a moment to get my bearings before I could hurry to his side. I stared wide-eyed at the gash in his thumb, both horrified by how deep his wound was and relieved that at least he hadn’t sliced his finger clean off. “Oh, Quinn.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said gruffly, embarrassment mingling with his pain. “At least not deep enough for stitches. I’ll be fine, I was just careless…”

I gingerly grazed the base of his thumb, several inches from his wound. “Why weren’t you watching what you were doing?”

“I was.” His voice hitched in defense. “It’s just…the color of the potato is too similar to the wood of the counter—” His words faltered and he said nothing more.

“What does that have to do with anything?” I asked.

He looked as if he meant to answer, but instead he simply sighed. “Nothing.”

I wasn’t nearly satisfied with such a vague response, but before I had a chance to inquire further, Melina bustled over with her handkerchief to staunch the flow of blood. It quickly soaked through the cloth, staining it crimson, with no sign of stopping anytime soon. The sight of it curdled my stomach, but despite my horror I still wanted to reach out and see for myself how deep the gash was, hoping it wasn’t as bad as it looked…only to find I couldn’t move.

My whimper escaped. “Oh, Quinn.”

His attention was on me in an instant, no other thought to his bleeding thumb. “I’m well, so please don’t worry on my account.” He tried to smile, but with the pain twisting his expression it looked more like a grimace.

“You’re certainly notwell,” Melina said brusquely. “You’re lucky you haven’t lost your finger. I can try to stop the blood, but you need some healing herbs.”

“I’ll retrieve them.” I wasn’t sure whether my urgency came from my need to help Quinn or my desire to escape the kitchen and the sight and smell of his blood. Undoubtedly both.

I turned to leave but froze as another wave of dizziness overcame me. I rested my hand on the table to steady myself and prayed my lightheadedness wasn’t obvious to my handmaiden or guard, else they’d forbid me from helping; with the way I constantly deferred to their wishes, one would think I wasn’t a princess at all.

Melina narrowed her eyes. She’d certainly noticed, but at my pleading look thankfully relented with a nod. I immediately left before she could change her mind, hastening from the kitchen but slowing once I reached the corridor. I paused to rest my hand on the wall to steady myself, still feeling weak and tired, before the memory of Quinn’s bleeding finger and my need to help him pushed me forward.

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