When Nadia brushed aside strands of hair as she read, Lynet remembered the way her hand had faintly trembled as it had reached for Lynet’s hair in the tower. The gentle sound of Nadia’s breathing made her remember the way her own breath had come so haltingly afterward, when she stood alone in the room. And when Nadia bit her lip in concentration, Lynet wondered at the sense of disappointment that washed over her, like she was searching for something without even knowing what it was. Sometimes Nadia watched her, too, but she always ducked her head and pretended to have been doing something else whenever their eyes met.
Lynet flipped another useless journal page, shifting restlessly. She wished this shyness between them would pass. Without Nadia, Lynet only had the snow and her own thoughts to keep her company. She had never noticed before how ever-present the snow was here, how impossible it was to get away from it. Only now, when the snow was a constant reminder of her origins, did she wish it would melt away.
Her eyes drifted up to Nadia again, and all at once the thought struck her: I could go with her. I could follow her south, where no one knows me. It would be so much easier to forget the truth in the South—she would never have to see the snow or hear her mother’s name again.
She hardly read another word for the rest of the morning, and she was still imagining their future journey together on her way out when she found her father standing in the courtyard. She was supposed to be with her music tutor, but her father didn’t seem surprised to see her here; in fact, he held his arm out when he saw her.
“Come walk with me,” he said.
She had been trying to avoid her father ever since learning the truth of her birth. She was afraid she would say something to reveal that she knew the secret he was keeping from her, afraid some of her resentment would seep into her voice. But she took his arm and let him lead her through the stone arch that led to the Shadow Garden. “Do you remember how much you used to like it here when you were little? The lake was your favorite place.”
Lynet did remember. She had never understood why no one else would splash in the lake with her. Now she knew—the water was icy cold to anyone but her.
“You have a new favorite place now, though, don’t you?” her father continued.
Was he going to scold her about climbing the juniper tree? She sighed and waited for the worst.
Nicholas stopped and turned to her. “You’ve been skipping all of your lessons so you can visit the surgeon’s workroom nearly every day.”
Lynet gaped at him, trying to decide how best to appease him. A sincere apology? She couldn’t deny it, not when she was supposed to be poorly playing the harp right now. And she couldn’t explain why she was visiting the workroom, without telling him that she knew the truth he was hiding from her.
“I know you’re young,” Nicholas said, “and it’s exciting when someone your age is at Whitespring, but you can’t neglect your duties, especially when your birthday is tomorrow.”
“What’s so special about my birthday this year?” Lynet muttered with some bitterness.
Some of his sternness melted away, and he smiled at her. “I don’t want you to be unprepared,” he said. “You’re not a child anymore, Lynet. You’re going to have to learn to walk in your mother’s footsteps.”
A month ago, she would have bowed her head in defeat and mumbled a halfhearted agreement. Perhaps it was because she now knew that her father had made her so that she could walk in her mother’s footsteps, or perhaps it was because she kept hearing Mina’s voice in her head saying, You don’t have to be like your mother, no matter what anyone says, but this time, Lynet spoke the first words that came to her mind:
“And what if I choose not to?”
He was taken aback by her response, his forehead wrinkling in confusion, but he didn’t seem angry with her, at least. “I only want you to have the life you were meant to have,” he said. “I’ve let you run around freely long enough. Tomorrow is the day you leave all your childhood habits behind. No more climbing, no more avoiding your lessons to do whatever you wish … and less time with Mina.”
“What?” The other terms she had been expecting, but that last one made the exclamation fly from her lips before she could hold it back.
Nicholas took a breath and looked up at the web of branches over their heads. At least he seemed to understand the weight of what he was asking her to do. “When you were a child, you took to Mina at once. You doted on her. I made it very clear to both of you that I didn’t want her to take the place of your mother, or for her to have too much influence over you. And for a while, I thought she understood. But you two have formed … an attachment. When you were a child, I could understand. But now that you’re older, you don’t need a stepmother anymore.” He took her hands in his and gave her an imploring look. “I know you’re at an age when you think you don’t need a father’s guidance, but I hope you still trust and respect my judgment. I’m thinking of your future, Lynet.”
Lynet took measured breaths, willing herself not to cry. “So what would you have me do, just pretend she doesn’t exist?”
“Of course not, but you’ve become too dependent on her. You go see her every night.” He paused, and when he spoke again, he spoke slowly, choosing his words with care. “I know this may be difficult for you to understand now, but as you get older, you won’t always be able to trust Mina to have your best interests at heart. You would be wise to distance yourself a little from her before that happens.”
Lynet thought about how Mina had showed her the chapel, and how honored she had felt at being allowed this glimpse into her stepmother’s world. No more Mina? It was true she wasn’t a child anymore, but that just meant the two of them were becoming something more balanced than stepmother and stepchild—they were becoming sisters, friends, able to confide in each other more than ever before. And now she had to either leave that friendship behind, or else hurt her father by disrespecting his wishes.
She shook her head, the only response she could give to such an impossible situation, and her father sighed. “You’ll understand everything more clearly tonight.”
“Tonight?”
He smiled. “You, Mina, and I are going to meet tonight in my chambers, as soon as the sun goes down. There’s something I want to tell you. Think of it as an early birthday gift.”
Lynet offered a weak smile, but she wasn’t sure she wanted any gift she couldn’t share with Mina. She remained silent as they walked back through the garden together, and then her father followed her through the halls to make sure she was headed to the music room. She would have gone even if he hadn’t followed her—there was nowhere else she was allowed to go.
* * *
“Ah, there you are,” her father said when she arrived at his rooms at the appointed hour. He gestured for her to sit by the fireplace. But there were only two chairs by the fireplace, and Nicholas had already taken one of them. If Lynet took the other, Mina would have to sit apart.
She chose to kneel down on the floor beside the fire. “Why did you ask us here?”
Nicholas smiled down at her. “It’s a surprise, my Lynetbird. I’ll tell you as soon as—”
The door opened, and Mina strode in. Lynet had learned over the years that the Mina she knew only appeared when they were alone. When Nicholas was near, Mina stood tall, rigid even, and her face went blank except for small, controlled movements. The Mina who walked into the room now was distant and untouchable, but undoubtedly a queen.
“We were waiting for you. Sit,” Nicholas said.
Mina settled in the chair opposite Nicholas, the red tints in her hair and the deep glow of her eyes catching the firelight.
Nicholas straightened in his seat and looked intently at Lynet. “You know you’re my greatest joy in this world,” he said. Lynet guiltily glanced at Mina, but Mina’s face revealed nothing. “At almost sixteen, you’ve become everything your mother was. And so your birthday is the perfect time for you to begin to take the place she left for you.”
/>
Mina gave a short laugh. “Don’t tell me you mean to marry her.”
“Of course not,” Nicholas said with some irritation. “I mean to prepare her to become queen, starting by giving her full control of the South.”
They were all speechless for a moment. Lynet knew she was supposed to say something, to thank him, to show him how excited she was, but all she felt was shock and a growing sense of panic. She knew she would have to be ready to be queen when her father died, but she also knew that on that day, her transformation into her mother would be complete. That was what he was really offering to her, after all—not the South, but the chance to become her mother sooner.
“But what does that mean?” Lynet finally managed to say. “What do you want me to do?”
Nicholas nodded in approval. “You’re going to learn how to be a queen, Lynet. You’ll attend all public court events and greet all visitors personally. You’ll come with me when I meet with my council, and you’ll handle all matters related to the South—hearing petitions, deciding policy. As we discussed this morning, you are going to have to put your childhood behind you from now on. You have responsibilities.”
Lynet’s stomach twisted a little more with each word. She could sense her world becoming smaller and smaller, no bigger than one of the coffins in the crypt. She had wanted to run away, but now she felt more trapped than ever.
Nicholas was beginning to frown, and Lynet knew she wasn’t responding the way he had hoped or expected. In desperation, she turned to Mina, forgetting for a moment that he didn’t want her to depend on Mina anymore.
But Mina wasn’t looking at Lynet. She was staring ahead at Nicholas, sitting perfectly still except for a slight tremor of her hands.
She didn’t know, Lynet realized, now understanding the full extent of her father’s decision. She had been so occupied with her own fears that she had forgotten that the power her father was granting her—the position he was preparing her for—was Mina’s.
Why hadn’t her father asked for Mina’s blessing before making this decision? But of course he wouldn’t—she never knew them to agree about anything.
“You would do this?” Mina said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I will do anything that’s best for my daughter,” Nicholas said, looking at his wife for the first time since he’d begun his announcement. “And needless to say, I will not allow you to make her decisions or rule through her. Lynet is old enough not to need you anymore.”
“And have you considered that Lynet may not want to accept your offer?”
The two of them both looked down at Lynet, who tried not to cower under the eyes of the two people she cared about most. Nicholas was looking at her in disbelief, clearly confused by the suggestion that Lynet wouldn’t want to take such an important step toward becoming queen. And Mina—Mina was simply waiting for Lynet to tell her father the truth.
Nicholas was the first to look away. “Don’t speak for her. If Lynet has any complaints, she’ll speak for herself.”
“Will she?” Mina said softly, her eyes still on Lynet.
Lynet was growing light-headed, too warm from sitting in front of the fire, and even though she shut her eyes tight, she could still see them both watching her, waiting for her to say something. No matter what she said, she would have to hurt one of them. She could already see the look on her father’s face, the slow realization that his daughter wasn’t the person he thought she was. She would never be able to make him understand, but Mina—Mina would understand. Mina could be reasoned with. Even if she upset Mina now, Lynet could explain herself later, and she knew that Mina would forgive her. She couldn’t believe the same of her father.
Lynet shook her head. “I don’t have anything to say.”
“That settles it, then,” Nicholas said. “I’ll make the announcement at your birthday feast.”
There was a long pause before Lynet dared to open her eyes, keeping her head down as she peered up at her stepmother. Mina wasn’t looking at her anymore, but Lynet could feel her disappointment nonetheless; she could feel it in the fire’s punishing heat.
“And when Lynet takes the South, what will I do?” Mina said.
Nicholas shrugged. “You’ll still be queen in name.”
“The South is mine, Nicholas.”
“It was never yours to keep.” He sighed and rubbed at his forehead. “Please understand that this is not a personal insult to you—”
She laughed dryly. “No? Even when you accused me of trying to rule through her? Or are you just afraid she’ll become too much like me and not enough like her mother?”
Nicholas rose from his seat in one movement, but Mina remained still, watching him defiantly.
“Lynet, you can leave now. I want to speak to your stepmother alone.”
Lynet stood, looking to Mina uncertainly. She was sure that Mina would understand and forgive her, but she still longed for some reassurance.
But Mina only looked at her coldly and said, “Go, Lynet. I don’t need you to protect me.”
Lynet heeded her stepmother’s command and hurried out of the room.
12
MINA
Mina walked by the lake with Nicholas and Lynet nearly every day, but she felt she was making little progress with the king. They would stroll leisurely while Lynet ran ahead, but the king’s worried eyes seldom left his daughter, and their conversations were light and impersonal.
The real challenge, Mina thought, would be to find a way to approach Nicholas alone. As long as Lynet was there to distract him away from her, Mina knew they would never move beyond this casual friendship.
She asked Felix to track the king’s movements, to watch for those rare moments when the king was alone. Her chance came at last one morning when she heard a tap at her window. Felix was standing outside, and Mina quickly shut her door before opening the window. “You shouldn’t be here,” she hissed at him in a whisper.
“The western courtyard,” Felix whispered back. “He’s there now. Alone.”
Mina gripped the window frame to calm herself. The king was alone in the western courtyard—exactly where Mina had first met him. She wasn’t sentimental, but she still thought the coincidence boded well for her. “Thank you, Felix,” she said. “I’ll meet you tonight. Don’t linger here.”
Felix didn’t move, but Mina didn’t have time to waste. “Go!” she said again, and this time he obeyed.
Nicholas was sitting on the fountain ledge when Mina arrived at the western courtyard.
“My lord?” Mina said, forcing a note of surprise in her voice.
He tensed at the intrusion, but when he saw Mina, he managed to smile a little.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” she said.
He stood to greet her. “Not at all. When I’m alone, my thoughts overwhelm me.”
“Then I’ll have to push them back for you,” Mina said, her head bowed. That was one of the tricks she’d learned from their walks together, to speak bold words in a demure manner. Pointing your chin downward encouraged a man to lift it up again. Stumbling while walking invited him to give you his arm. Faltering over words made him listen more closely, his eyes drawn to your lips. Weakness was more enticing than any seduction.
“I must bore you with all my sad talk.”
“Not at all. I want to understand. There must be no end of worries for a king, especially without a queen to share them.”
“Even after so many years, I—Mina, are you cold? You’re shivering.” He removed the heavy cloak he was wearing and draped it around her, as she’d hoped he would. Mina kept her head down as he performed his act of gallantry, but as he drew the cloak tight around her neck, she lifted her chin and looked him in the eye. She’d expected him to step back from her, but instead, he remained staring down at her upturned face for another few seconds before letting out a shaky breath and moving away.
That was another trick, to shiver with cold until he noticed. That was the easiest one of all,
since she hardly had to fake it.
“I should take you inside, if you’re cold,” Nicholas said.
“No!” Once he escorted her inside, he’d leave, and she didn’t know when she’d have a chance to be alone with him again. “No,” she repeated. “I’ll be just as cold inside, and I needed a change of scenery.”
“A change of scenery, hmm?” he said. “I wouldn’t want you to grow bored of Whitespring.” He fell silent, and then he held out his hand to her. “Come with me. I’ll give you a change of scenery.”
Delighted—but careful not to seem too delighted—Mina took his hand. He led her toward the Hall, but then turned down a corridor she hadn’t visited before, to a large set of closed doors. He opened one enough to let her in.
Mina gave an involuntary gasp when she walked into the room—the throne room, she realized, when she saw two ornate chairs at the opposite end of the room. The cross-vaulted ceilings high above her made her think of a giant rib cage, the click of her shoes on the stone floor echoing against it like a heartbeat. A banner of colorful tiles stretched around the walls; it was a mosaic of the four seasons, a reminder of something long lost. Mina walked in awe until she came to the two grand chairs waiting on a dais at the end of the room. They were identical, carved from the same dark wood.
“That one’s mine,” Nicholas said, pointing to the chair on the left. “The other is for my queen. It has been empty for some time.”
Mina stepped up on the dais. She knew better than to sit in the queen’s throne. Any indication that she wanted to replace his beloved Emilia would offend him. Instead, she sat in the king’s throne and stared out at the room with a lofty expression.
He laughed and gave an exaggerated bow. “You look better there than I do. Not that I use it often. People are always so eager to leave Whitespring that I hardly have time to impress them with my grand throne room. There’s a riddle there, I think: What kind of king rules over such a desolate castle?”
Girls Made of Snow and Glass Page 11
