Page 68 of Turret

Hence my quest to find it, one I’d begun immediately after visiting the tower, which still stood erected on the outskirts of the grounds, its powers fully restored; I’d felt them surround me as if in an embrace, an affection brought about by the tower’s excitement at seeing me again.

But my quest that was currently proving futile. I could have easily asked Briar, who possessed an intimate knowledge of the royal grounds, but I was still shy about my new hobby and feared his reaction. Though he’d grown to accept my word whenever I assured him I was well enough to join him and my family, I still frequently sensed his concerned attention, as if he was searching for signs of the sickly sister he’d known before.

Though I’d enjoyed their company, I was relieved when my other siblings and their spouses left, granting me a reprieve from their touching yet aggravating concern. After giving their full account of Mother’s abuse against them to the official court of royal advisors, Mother had been imprisoned in the dungeon tower and they’d departed, leaving the palace quiet with plenty of hours to spend enjoying my new health and freedom.

Considering herbalism wasn’t a hobby a typical princess pursued, I’d spent the first week home learning from the healer in secret. And though Briar had never given me reason to doubt he’d be supportive, he was still the king, and my position as the sister of the current sovereign made it difficult to reconcile my unroyal ambitions.

So it remained a secret. I found excuses to explain my absences, all while I spent hours within the apothecary immersed in herbs, and although I often searched for the ingredients I needed to make my own remedy as well as possible ones that would help me make it stronger, I focused my studies on cures for blindness, only to find myself disappointed.

With those efforts proving futile, I hoped to find answers in the magical medicinal garden. It had been quite the adventure escaping the palace undetected, a feat my heart still pounded wildly from. Now the adventure was continuing as I searched the grounds. The trouble was I already found myself quite lost, and though the gardens were clearly whispering directions in their usual breezy language, unlike Briar and our father, I didn’t understand a word of it.

After a lot of traipsing through the garden’s confusing paths, I was beginning to grow rather tired…and cold. Despite the bright sunlight, it was still late autumn. I’d awoken to a thick layer of frost on the windowpane, and though the sun had melted it from the garden, the air was still brisk.

I was certain winter was almost here, which would make it more difficult to spend time in the medicinal garden. Though my remedy continued to improve my health and I wasn’t nearly as sickly as I used to be, I didn’t want to push my luck and come down with a cold, especially when I was trying to assert my independence and forge an identity outside of my past illnesses.

After several more minutes of fruitless wandering, the chill seeped deeper over me. Shivering, I paused to look around. I sensed the plants monitoring me closely, feeling their concern more than hearing it. I was both touched and frustrated that even the plants coddled me.

“If you’re so worried, perhaps you could guide me to the medicinal garden; it’d be much faster.”

They gave an agitated rustle, as if that’s exactly what they’d been doing and I just hadn’t been listening closely enough. Hurried whispered instructions followed, which were still lost to me. After a moment’s consideration, the plants added gesturing to their indiscernible words, leaning towards a pathway veering right.

I took it, pausing at each intersection for the plants’ additional guidance, which led me to the entrance of a rather sterile-looking garden comprised of muted colors and rigid, organized rows. Even with my minimal studies I could recognize some of the more common plants, though they appeared different, possessing an almost mystical quality.

I forgot all about my aching legs and growing exhaustion as I entered the garden. Curiosity guided my movements as I slowly strolled the rows, transfixed as I studied the plants, while the garden’s eager anticipation followed me. I paused next to a plant I’d never seen before: a daisy-like flower with purple leaves, one I wouldn’t expect to find in a medicinal garden.

Sensing its continued attention, I asked my question out loud. “Which plant is this?”

The garden’s excitement was palpable as it eagerly whispered the plant’s name, but once more I didn’t understand it. The plants drooped, but their frustration was short-lived before they perked with an idea. The daisies growing before me stirred and a swirl of light rose above them, an aura filled with an image of my flushed face.

“Does this treat…fevers?” The garden’s confirmation followed my guess. They whispered an explanation, and though their words were lost to me, one penetrated my comprehension: this was a magical plant found only within this garden.

With the plant’s identity, I felt as if I’d discovered a piece of a complicated puzzle and wanted more. I opened the notebook I’d brought and carefully sketched the plant, along with some accompanying notes before moving to the herb growing beside it, whose name and purpose was given to me in the same manner as the first.

My studies continued for an hour as I strolled the rows, pausing in front of each plant to learn about it. The cold and my growing exhaustion were forgotten as I immersed myself in the garden’s lessons. Each instruction nourished my passion, confirming that this was the purpose I’d spent my life searching for.

The garden experimented with this new form of communication and grew creative in the auras it showed me, including images of different plants coming together to form a new picture of what they could create and instructions on the best ways to prepare them. Despite my repeated requests for one that would cure blindness, the garden never led me to such a plant, though it guided me to many others.

My fingers tingled, aching to experiment with my newfound knowledge, and with the garden’s permission I began gathering a basket of herbs, one I quickly filled. I was eager to return to the palace in order to study them more closely and attempt some of the concoctions the garden had taught me, even as I didn’t want to leave the medicinal garden’s tutelage, especially when there was so much more it could teach me.

The sound of footsteps jolted me back to the real world. I turned towards the gated entrance, expecting Quinn, only to find my brother instead. He seemed surprised to see me outdoors, a place I’d never ventured before my time in the tower. “What are you doing here?” Briar slowly looked around the garden. “Why are you alone?”

I nibbled my lip. I was only alone because I’d managed to slip away from Quinn and the temporary guard accompanying him. He’d be quite upset when he learned of it. “I…snuck away…from my guard.”

Briar blinked, as if trying to process my confession, one uncharacteristic of the obedient and cautious Gemma he’d known before. “How did you do that? Quinn’s senses are sharper than most.”

I shifted nervously. “I…climbed out the window.”

Briar’s eyes widened in astonishment. His gaze darted upwards to the third floor where my room was located; it wasn’t difficult to miss with the bedsheets still handing down. “You…climbed out the window?”

I still couldn’t believe I’d done it myself, but my shock was nothing to my thrill that I could do something that required so much daring and energy—something I’d never in my wildest dreams imagined I’d be able to do. It had been rather reckless to tie the bedsheets together and tangle down. It had been one of the most terrifying experiences of my life, and one I wasn’t keen on repeating anytime soon.

At Briar’s continued surprise, I gave what I hoped was an offhanded shrug. “I’m not as scared of heights as I once was.” Living in a tower had cured that.

He shook his head with a chuckle of disbelief. “You’re quite different than before. I always felt you were hiding, even from yourself. I look forward to getting to know you better.” His gaze darted upwards again. “Still…climbing out a window, Gemma?” His amusement had faded, leaving only disapproval.

“I had a sudden urge to come outside. Poor Quinn thinks I’m taking a nap in my room, and he’s not going to learn otherwise. He’s already feeling bad…for not being able to…” I trailed off, hesitating to say my next words, but one look at Briar and I knew my secrecy was unnecessary. “You know, don’t you?” I suspected he did, even if I hadn’t confirmed it; despite my being home a week, this was a conversation I’d done my best to avoid.

He sobered. “About your guard? Yes, I know he can no longer see.”

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