Page 66 of Turret

Chapter 25

Moments later, as I sat stiffly at the feast prepared in my honor, I wasn’t entirely certain. Since being reunited with my family, I felt as if I’d stepped back in time to before my sojourn in the tower. Every look they gave me was less welcoming and more concerned, each comment and question less about how I’d spent these past three years and more about my health.

The suffocating interrogation quickly grew wearying, made more difficult to endure without my usual steady presence beside me. Despite his upcoming release from his duties, Quinn still stood along the wall with the other guards. His lack of sight prevented him from scanning the room, so instead he faced my direction, a way to offer his support even from afar.

But I didn’t want his support from a distance—I wanted him beside me, participating in my life rather than standing on the outside…to feel his hand on my knee or hear his whispered assurances in my ear. Without him I felt I was drowning.

A footman whisked away my barely touched salad and placed the next course before me, creamy mushroom soup, but even my favorite dish couldn’t encourage my fading appetite.

It was strange being back at the palace I grew up in and yet not feel like I was home. In between my siblings’ questions, my gaze took in the elegant room—the glistening chandelier, the tapestries lining the walls, and the refined dishes were all familiar from the many evenings I’d spent in this room. But they were also foreign, remnants of a life I’d scarcely lived considering my condition had forced me to spend most of my time alone in my bedroom, a life so different from the one I’d grown accustomed to at the tower. To dine in the formal dining room for the first time in years was…unsettling, the array of stimuli and emotions overwhelming, especially without Quinn’s presence to ground me.

The conversation lulled as my siblings noticed I wasn’t eating and cast me more concerned glances. Desperate to escape the overwhelming concern I’d long since grown tired of, I tried my best to enjoy the feast. The food was far more elaborate than the simple fare I’d grown used to in the tower, and even though each course featured my old favorites, there was just somuchof it that my stomach quickly began to ache.

With the twisting pain and my siblings’ smothering attention, I found it difficult to speak, keeping me from sharing some of the things I’d been excited to with my siblings—the lovely memories from the tower, the beautiful places it’d taken me, my growing interest in herbalism, the elixir and my improved health, and especially Quinn. Instead I found myself withdrawing the way I always had around my more outgoing family, and soon fell silent altogether.

Discouragement settled over me—mere hours home and I’d already reverted back to my old self, a path so well-tread it felt far easier and safer to walk than creating a new one, as comforting as the tower’s walls had been.

I soon found myself picking at my food, which was a mistake, for it drew Briar’s concerned attention from his place at the head of the table. The moment there was a pause in his conversation with Drake, he turned to face me.

“Are you well, Gemma?”

His soft inquiry not only drew the attention of the entire table, but Quinn’s from his place along the wall. His expression immediately twisted in worry.

I bit my lip to suppress a weary sigh. “I’m well.” I hoped that would be the end of it and I could escape everyone’s prodding gazes, but they only grew more searching.

Briar frowned, clearly unconvinced. “You don’tlookwell, not to mention you’ve scarcely eaten.” Before I could respond, he approached to crouch beside me and rest the back of his hand against my forehead. “Hmm, no fever, but you look exhausted. With the trying events of the day you’ve likely overexerted yourself. My apologies, I should have held this feast another night.”

“It’s no matter—” I began, but once again I didn’t have a chance to finish before Briar rested a loving hand on my shoulder, silencing my words.

“Perhaps you should take dessert in your room so that you can rest.” Though kind, his tone was authoritative, the words less a suggestion and more a command, similar to how Mother had often spoken to me.

Unlike her, I knew Briar didn’t mean to order me about—as the king he’d undoubtedly grown used to speaking in a way befitting his sovereignty and expected his desires to be seen through…and in this moment, he wanted me to leave. Despite knowing he had nothing but my best interests in mind, his dismissal still stung.

I made no move to depart but sat rigidly, trying to keep back the tears burning my eyes. When I’d left the tower I’d been so full of hope for my future, but this wasn’t what I’d wanted when I’d left. All the fears the tower had tried to protect me from were unfolding before me with no way for me to stop them.

I attempted to gather my resolve with a wavering breath. “I’m fine.” But my nervousness to stand up for myself made the protest come out soft and weak, contradicting my assurances and making me appear more sickly than I actually felt.

But Briar was already helping me up, his movements all gentleness and kindness, making it difficult to be annoyed with him despite wanting to be. Instead my annoyance was directed towards myself that I hadn’t fully succeeded in breaking past the barriers I constantly hid behind.

“Shall I escort you back to your room?” he asked.

I shook my head, but though my protest was lost on him, somehow it wasn’t on Quinn, despite being unable to see it. He strode forward in long, agitated strides, nicking the edge of the table in his haste and causing the dishes to rattle. “I shall escort the Princess.”

Briar frowned, clearly not keen on the arrangement.

“Thank you, Quinn,” I said hastily before my brother could intervene. I wriggled my arm from his and took Quinn’s. He led me away from the table, navigating our way to the door with surprising ease.

The moment we were in the foyer, he rested a calming hand over mine where it rested in the crock of his arm. “You’re shaking.”

My lip trembled as I lost the fragile hold on my emotions. At my strangled sob, Quinn immediately changed directions to lead me away from the stairway and down a secluded hallway, only taking his hand off mine in order to rest it against the wall. He ran it along it as we walked, counting silently, and paused at a door.

The conservatory, a room I used to spend a lot of time in as a way to experience a portion of the outdoors even when confined to the palace. He opened the door and led me inside. The room was dark save for the moonlight tumbling through the floor-length windows to illuminate the plants filling the room with a silvery glow.

The moment the door clicked shut, my emotions unraveled. Quinn gathered me in his arms to hold me close and I burrowed myself against him. The floral perfume and scent of earth filling the conservatory mixed with his woodsy cologne, a smell that brought great comfort. For a long moment I simply allowed myself to be held, melting into his comfort and the pleasant heated ripples trickling over me as he rubbed my back.

“Gemma?” So many questions filled Quinn’s tone, ones I wasn’t certain how to answer. “It was torturous being so far from you in the dining room, sensing you were unhappy but unable to see for myself how you were faring. What’s wrong?”

It took several stuttering breaths for me to gather enough composure in order to find my voice. “It’s all the same. You might not have been able to see the scene unfold, but surely you heard all my siblings’ questions? Only one day home and nothing has changed. Now that I’ve tasted freedom, I can’t go back into the cage I’ve only just escaped, I just can’t.”

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