Page 27 of Turret

Even after the vision finally faded I couldn’t move. It took a long moment for anything to penetrate my anguish, but gradually I became aware of my handmaiden’s frantic voice.

“Princess?Princess?” Melina’s voice, taut with concern.

When I didn’t answer she cautiously approached. I scarcely heard her earnest pleas for me to step away from the mirror, nor noticed her turning me away, finally severing the connection that had forced me to look into the glass. I reluctantly allowed her to ease me into a seat.

“What did you see?” Melina’s voice was sharp, urgent.

I didn’t answer, nor could I still my shaking. I simply remained rigid in the chair, my hand pressed against my pounding heart, each beat a measure of the memory’s painful effect.

She crouched in front of me. “What’s troubling you, Princess?” Her voice was so gentle.

I couldn’t bear to explain. It was bad enough being trapped in the memory, only to be forced to relive it yet again in such vivid detail.

“Princess?”

I squeezed my eyes shut, silently urging the memory to leave, but it only continued to play out against my eyelids, haunting me more than any other vision the tower had shown me, for this one had been the manifestation of my greatest fear, one which only confirmed that the longings of my heart would forever remain out of reach.

I ached to escape, to dosomethingto free myself from the pain…but what?

The tower stirred, so faintly it took a moment for me to decipher its urgent desires to take me somewhere. I debated the wisdom of listening to it before gratefully seizing the distraction it offered. I stood slowly, keeping my hand on the wall to remain steady.

“I—need to leave this room, to—” My explanation faltered and I simply left. Melina silently followed, clearly not wanting me to remain alone while in such a state.

Quinn was in his usual place near the door but I didn’t even look at him as I passed, certain doing so would cause me to lose my fragile hold on my faltering composure. But though I tried to ignore him, I sensed his presence as he silently followed us through the corridors at a distance.

I had no particular destination in mind, so I allowed myself to follow the tower’s invisible guidance…only to find myself standing outside the door to the apothecary, no longer at the top of the tower but shuffled closer to my bedroom.

This was the last place I wanted to be. I’d avoided both the herbal garden and the apothecary ever since Quinn’s rejection, for not only did they remind me of him, but my acute heartache had eclipsed the joy that came from my budding hobby. I was almost afraid of exploring my passion and allowing anything to penetrate my grief, for though my pain was confining, it also felt almost…safe.

There was little point in exploring my growing passion for herbology, not when Quinn’s rejection had only proved that any attempt to break free from my limitations was futile. It was better to let my passion go now rather than deepen my love for it, only for it to eventually slip away, a loss that would be even more unbearable after losing Quinn.

I hastily turned away from the door and walked determinedly in the opposite direction, down several other corridors, and even up another flight of stairs…only to find myself face to face with the apothecary door once more. I immediately turned and walked away, but no matter which hallway I traipsed or my intended destination, I always found myself at the same place.

The tower was certainly stubborn. I sensed its struggling magic, which quickly became exhausted with the repeated effort of moving the apothecary. I too was growing tired from my strenuous trek. This as well as my concern for its well-being compelled me to finally give up the fight.

“I don’t see why you’re so insistent on having me continue my herbalism studies,” I muttered quietly enough so only the tower would hear.

The tower responded in only a single word:healing.

I nearly snorted, but I’d no sooner dismissed the ridiculous idea than a possibility occurred to me: could it mend a broken heart? My mind caught hold upon that idea. This was, after all, an enchanted tower. Perhaps it had powers that could relieve the all-encompassing heartache I longed to escape.

With that thought I finally heeded the tower’s wishes. I felt its fierce relief and a sense of peace as I stepped inside the familiar apothecary walls; it was as if I’d entered a haven, a place far safer than where I’d allowed my thoughts to drift this past week.

Though I was in no state to actually work, now that I was here I didn’t want to leave. I strolled around the room to finger the bottled remedies, allowing myself at least this brief interaction with my passion.

Melina had followed me into the room. “You’re not going to work?” she asked.

I shook my head. “I don’t think I can.”

She was silent a moment. “I know it’s not my place to ask, but…what’s happened? You’ve never seemed so upset, not even the day…we became trapped.”

I paused in tracing the bottle of fireweed leaves in order to compare my current feelings to those from what had previously been the most traumatic moment of my life. The pain from Quinn’s rejection felt far more raw. “That is an accurate assessment.”

I spared her a single glance and registered her shock. “What has happened?”

I hadn’t planned on telling her, for the last thing I wanted was to relive the moment. But being back in this room had caused the walls I’d built around my heart to falter, allowing my vulnerability to slip free.

“I wish there was a remedy for a broken heart.” Though I doubted any herb would be strong enough to numb the all-consuming pain I currently felt.

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