Page 26 of Turret

“These are all merely excuses when the truth of the matter is our not being together is not about these perceived obstacles, but your own desires: you don’t care for me enough to be with me.”

His jaw clenched and he refused to meet my eyes. He didn’t even try to deny my statement…which only confirmed it. My breaths came out quick and sharp. This was the outcome my fears had anticipated when they’d tried to persuade me from my confession…and they’d been right. Despite the encouragement I’d received in the past that if I but faced my fears I could overcome them, instead they were becoming real, reminding me why it was dangerous to try to rise above them in order to dream of possibilities of making something more of my life.

I’d been foolish to think there was something beyond this tower, this life…me.

Quinn saw the change settle over me the moment it occurred—the all-encompassing defeat. “Gemma—er, Princess, are you alright?”

His eyes widened as a tear trickled down my cheek before I could stop it, a falter in my composure that made me feel even weaker than I already did.

“Gemma?”

I couldn’t answer him, too overcome to even attempt to explain what I was feeling. But Quinn seemed to find the silence unbearable. As my second tear escaped, he straightened to his usual defensive stance, as if readying to fight off the emotions tormenting me…despite the fact that he’d been the one to cause them.

“Tell me what I can do for you, Gemma.” Desperation wrenched his voice, pleading for me to confide in him. But I’d already tried to, only to get burned. How could I risk becoming hurt again? For now that he’d rejected my sweet, tender feelings, I was certain he’d reject anything else I attempted to share.

Fear whispered these thoughts to my mind over and over, compelling me to believe them, especially when their initial warnings had already been proven correct.

Though deep down I knew Quinn hadn’t intended to hurt me and was therefore no less worthy of it, his rejection had still shattered the trust I’d tentatively extended towards him, a thought made more unbearable because I’d never been brave enough to give it to anyone else.

I stared unseeing across the surrounding scenery. Moments earlier it had still been beautiful, but now it was tainted. Like the last time I’d come to this balcony to watch for my mother’s return, once more it had become a place of disappointment, one of many that continuously tainted my life. Though my tower had protected me from the outside world, it hadn’t been able to guard me from heartache when I’d dared wish for something beyond its walls.

I’d been foolish to attempt to be brave, to open up myself up to the possibility ofmore. There was no world beyond this tower, and it was time I accept it and be content within my prison.

“Gemma?” Emotion wrenched Quinn’s voice and I was certain his expression matched his desperation, but I didn’t dare look at him. Whatever empathy I’d find would only be given out of duty because he’d failed to protect me in this instance, despite his desires to.

Deep down I knew his rejecting me had been solely to protect my heart before I lost it more completely to him and his disinterest caused it to break further, but that didn’t change the fact his rejection had broken it all the same, leaving me with no idea how to repair its shattered pieces.

Suddenly the proximity I’d yearned for became unbearable. I couldn’t remain here a moment longer. I stood without a backwards glance. “I was wrong to venture out onto this balcony; there’s nothing beyond this tower, nor will there ever be.”

And without another word I left him sitting at the railing, one I knew in my heart I’d never return to.

Chapter 10

Try as I might, I couldn’t brush off Quinn’s rejection. It seeped into my heart, a sadness too powerful to resist the longer it eclipsed me, causing me to become withdrawn and solemn. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t pull myself out of my melancholy; instead I sank deeper with each passing day.

My heartache came from more than Quinn not caring for me the way I felt for him. It had taken a lot of strength to tentatively attempt to break free from the limits I’d placed on myself…only for the attempt to shatter. As a result, the bars of my prison grew thicker, barring me from the future I’d finally allowed myself to hope for, one my fears had succeeded in convincing me was impossible.

My mood was not lost on my companions, especially Quinn. I sensed his growing worry, and due to the nature of our last conversation, he undoubtedly feared he was the cause of my distress. Unable to bear a confrontation, I did my best to avoid him, choosing to withdraw further into myself. Even with all its limits and insecurity, my mind felt like a far safer place to be, my doubts a shelter where I could hide, just like the security of the tower. It hadn’t yet led me astray, so why would it do so now?

Quinn sensed my unspoken desires and honored them by keeping his distance, as if doing so could lessen the pain he’d caused me. Yet his duties meant he was always nearby, guarding me vigilantly, as if his extra attention could make up for what had transpired between us. I ignored him as best I could, not because I felt he deserved the silent treatment—I cared too much for him to be so petty, for it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t care for me the way I felt for him—but my pain made it impossible to do anything else.

My heartache caused me to become ill once more, a condition which as usual trapped me in bed…but for once it didn’t feel like a prison, but instead a haven. For this sickness was different than the one that often afflicted me—instead of being an illness of my body it was a condition of my heart, making it more difficult to endure than even my most serious sicknesses. It was more than the pain of unrequited love—it was also a loss of hope, for it wasn’t until I’d allowed myself to imagine a future with Quinn that I realized how desperately I wanted it.

The days since his rejection blended into one another. The only noticeable difference in today compared to the days that had come before was when I caught a glimmer from within my bedroom mirror, a spark of light that revealed it had something to show me.

I tried to ignore it, but it was as if the mirror was reaching invisible tentacles out to entwine with my curiosity, a silent urgency to look within it. Attempting to ignore this lure didn’t make it go away—it only intensified, beckoning me closer to peer into the glass…

I didn’t fight it, having experienced it often enough to know that in the end it always succeeded in getting me to heed it. Even though I had no doubt it’d be bad, part of me evenwantedto see the vision awaiting me; the pain that would surely result would serve as a distraction from the one currently riddling my heart.

I mechanically walked towards the mirror. My movement attracted the notice of my handmaiden from where she’d been working on her trousseau. Her shoulders tensed and she swiveled around to watch me approach the looking glass. I sensed her unspoken protests, for she knew all too well what sort of images the mirror would show me, even if she had never seen any herself.

I slowed several feet away, finally hesitating. I was unsure whether I had the emotional strength to bear whatever the mirror would reveal. Its lure intensified, stronger now that I stood so close. At its urgent tug, I obediently heeded its silent wishes to close the remaining distance and peer inside.

I expected to see another vision from the tower…so I was surprised when at first I only saw my reflection. I’d always avoided mirrors considering they only reflected the effects from my condition—pasty skin, gaunt eyes, my pretty features dimmed by illness—and this was no exception. As I stared at my appearance, I analyzed each and every flaw. It was no wonder Quinn hadn’t been able to see pastthis.

As if my negative thoughts had acted as a silent cue, the familiar hazy grey mist clouded the mirror’s surface. It swirled lazily before clearing to reveal the very memory I’d spent the entire week trying and failing to forget.

I tensed and tried to look away, but my gaze remained locked to the scene from the balcony as it unfolded across the glass—my confession, Quinn’s rejection, my fears’ triumph that robbed me of the future I longed for, making the bars of my cage impenetrable. My heartache expanded, consuming me until I feared I’d drown.

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