Mina fought off the urge to shrug Xenia’s hand away. She might have said something sharp and biting, something to make Xenia regret having been cruel to her, but as much as Mina wanted to strike back at her, she also found herself enjoying Xenia’s attention. Making Xenia accept her was even more satisfying than rejecting her would have been.
“I understand,” Mina said. “And I’m sure we’ll be such good friends from now on.”
* * *
Still elated from her success, Mina told her father everything when she returned to their apartment. He sat at his writing desk, listening to her account of the day without saying anything, and when she was done, he only said, “Does the king know you’re my daughter?”
Mina nodded, puzzled, but then she remembered her first meeting with the king, when he had quickly left after finding out who she was. At the time, she hadn’t known he was the king, and so she’d assumed Gregory had just made a new set of enemies. But now she wondered why he had reacted as he had, why he had been so sharp with her when asking if her father was in the garden.
“The king doesn’t like you,” Mina said, noticing the way her father showed no surprise at her words. “But why? You saved his daughter.”
His lips almost twisted into a snarl as he pushed himself up from his seat and retreated to the window, his back turned to her. “But not his wife,” he muttered.
“Still, wouldn’t he be grateful to you?”
“He should be grateful.”
“But then, why doesn’t he like you? Why wouldn’t you come with me to the picnic today?”
Gregory’s fingers curled against the windowsill. “I doubt the king wants to be reminded of the debt he owes me.”
“For saving his daughter?”
Gregory started to laugh, a dry, grating sound that quickly became a cough. When he had recovered, he turned to her, holding his withered hands out in front of him. “Look at what I’ve become, Mina. I’ve lost my youth, my vitality. And for what?” He gazed down at his empty hands. “For nothing. For a lie.” He shook his head and his hands dropped to his sides. “I’ll tell you, at least. I’ll have to content myself with that.”
“Tell me what?” Mina said, tired of his cryptic games.
“I didn’t save the king’s daughter,” he said, voice thick with pride. “I created her.”
Mina was silent at first. She kept thinking of the sand mouse Gregory had shown her back home, the way he had been so secretive about how he had saved the infant princess’s life, his sudden aged appearance and heavy gait since returning home.…
Gregory saw realization pass over Mina’s face and nodded. “That’s right,” he said. “The queen was already dead by the time I arrived north. She had been ill; she wasn’t even carrying a child. That was just a lie to explain why the king suddenly had a daughter. After her death, the king wanted me to create life in a way that I had never done before—an infant that would age naturally. He wanted her to look just like her mother.” The words came rushing out of him, long held back by whatever promise he had made to the king. How difficult it must have been for him never to tell anyone about his greatest success.
“The blood,” Mina said. “You made her with your blood.”
“Snow and blood. It took me many attempts to understand how to make her truly alive, and each attempt weakened me, drained the life out of my heart.” He clutched his chest and lowered himself back in his chair. “It’s a cruel joke, isn’t it? All my life, I’ve wanted to understand my own power, to test my limitations and move beyond them. And now that I finally know what I’m capable of, I’ve become an old man before my time. I can never create life again without giving my own.”
Mina hardly listened to his self-pitying ramble. She was thinking of the little girl squirming on her nurse’s lap. There was no sign that she was anything but a normal child of flesh and blood. True, she would bear an uncanny similarity to her mother as she grew, but she had a beating heart and a loving father who would protect her from this secret—and from Gregory. Mina bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood.
“Will he ever marry me, then?” she said, more to herself than to Gregory.
Gregory gestured her over to him, staring up at her in cool appraisal. “You have to make him want you so much that he won’t care about anything else. People aren’t rational when it comes to affairs of the heart. After all, your mother married me even when her family threatened to disown her for it.”
And she hated you in the end, Mina thought. Will he hate me, too, if he ever finds out what I am? She didn’t bother voicing her concern to Gregory—she knew he wouldn’t care. I’ll have to make him love me first, she decided. If he truly loved her, he wouldn’t care about her dead heart.
And perhaps—perhaps the king wouldn’t find Mina’s condition so repellant when his own daughter’s birth was so unconventional. Perhaps he was the one person in the world who would be able to love her.
10
MINA
From her new place in the Hall, seated with Xenia and her circle, Mina often caught the king’s eye, a private smile passing between them. Over the next year, she watched him cater to his daughter’s every wish and learned that the king cared more about his daughter than about anyone else. If she wanted to win over the father, she would have to win the child, as well.
And so when a birthday celebration for the princess was announced, Mina knew how important it was for her to attend. She wasn’t the only one—the Hall was crowded with visitors on the night of the celebration, but this time Mina had a place among them. Mina knew Xenia’s niceties were anything but sincere, but she still welcomed the pretense, and she felt some satisfaction at knowing that Xenia and her friends couldn’t even comment on the thick furs Mina wore.
As the evening wore on, Mina recognized that there were some virtues to standing apart from the crowd with her warm dress: there were one or two instances when the king saw her from his table, their eyes meeting before someone else—usually Lynet, who kept kicking her legs and trying to duck under the table—distracted him. But she’d had enough of shared glances and distant smiles; she needed to find a way to bring him over to her again, to make him seek her out.
The next time she looked up, the king wasn’t there.
Mina looked around the Hall, but she couldn’t find him anywhere. And then, while she was watching the main door, she saw a cloud of dark hair run out from under a table and escape outside.
She put the pieces together: a restless princess who had slipped away, a worried father searching for her, and Mina, the only one who knew where the princess had gone. She could go tell the king’s guard what she had seen, but Mina knew that if she found and retrieved Lynet herself, the king would undoubtedly be grateful to her.
Mina made some excuse about needing air and left the Hall, emerging into the chilly courtyard, the light from inside throwing her shadow large over the snow. There was a juniper tree near the edge of the courtyard, but unlike the spindly trees in the Shadow Garden, this one was green and full, its leaves frosted with snow.
She looked around the courtyard, hoping Lynet hadn’t gone too far, and saw a shower of snow fall from the juniper tree. There was no wind to have caused it. Mina casually strolled toward the tree.
When she was standing under the tree, more snow started to fall. Mina brushed the wet snow from the back of her neck and glared up at the offending tree—and found two curious eyes peering back at her. Nestled in the branches was a little girl, her eyes and hair as black as the lake at night. The girl crouched down in panic at her discovery.
“Lynet?”
The girl clung to her branch wordlessly, refusing to confirm or deny her identity.
“Lynet? That’s your name, isn’t it?”
“What do you want?” Lynet said, before shoving her knuckles into her mouth.
Tucking her skirts beneath her, Mina sat at the foot of the tree. She patted the ground, but Lynet didn’t move. “If you come sit with me, I�
�ll give you a present,” she said.
Lynet climbed down from her branch to a lower one, and then she dropped down to the ground, landing on hands and knees. She was wearing only a thin dress, like a true northerner, but even when the snow touched her skin, she didn’t seem to feel the cold at all.
“What present?” the girl said as she plopped down beside Mina.
Mina had only half expected the bribe to work, so she hadn’t considered what she would give Lynet for a present. She wasn’t wearing any rings, but she had her silver bracelet, bought in defiance years ago. She unclasped the bracelet and held it out. “Here,” she said. “Isn’t it pretty? Let me put it on you.” She placed it around the girl’s wrist; it was too big for her, of course, but it stayed on, and Lynet was entranced by it.
“Thank you,” she said. “You’re pretty, what’s your name?”
“My name is Mina.”
Lynet nodded and went back to twirling her new bracelet around her wrist.
“You’re pretty too,” Mina said.
“Thank you,” Lynet said at once. Mina supposed this wasn’t the first time she’d heard that compliment.
“You’re very bold to be climbing such big trees,” she said, and this time, the girl rewarded her with her full attention.
“What’s bold?”
“It means you’re brave and fierce, like a little wolf cub.”
Lynet bent her head over her wrist, her hair hiding most of her face, but Mina saw that the girl was smiling.
“My name is a bird,” she said. “Papa told me. He says I’m like a bird.”
“Oh? What else does your papa say?”
“He says I’m like my mama. She’s dead.”
Her bluntness was unexpected, but Lynet didn’t seem upset. It was a fact, like anything else. It was unfair to be jealous of a child, but Mina wished for that sense of detachment about her own mother’s death, rather than the sting of rejection.
“My mother is dead too,” Mina said without thinking. She was staring straight ahead, thinking of the day her father had told her the truth of her mother’s death, when she felt a tug. Lynet had moved closer to her, one of her dirty hands entangled in Mina’s skirt. She wanted to brush the hand away before it soiled the fabric, but that wouldn’t endear her to the child. And … she found she didn’t mind it. The girl rested her dark head against Mina’s shoulder, and that didn’t bother her either. The weight of Lynet’s head was heavy and comforting.
“Do you miss your mama?” Lynet said. She lifted her head, and the sudden absence left Mina colder than she was before.
“I did once, but not anymore.”
The girl was unhappy with this answer, though; her forehead scrunched up and her head drooped as she picked at her skirts.
“What’s the matter? Do you miss your mama?”
“Papa misses her,” Lynet mumbled.
“Does that make you sad?”
She shrugged.
“Do you miss her too?”
She gave no answer—but then, how could she miss a mother who had died before she was even born? “It’s fine if you don’t miss her,” Mina said softly. “You don’t remember her. You never really knew her. It’s hard to miss someone you can’t remember.”
Lynet kept her head down. “Don’t tell my papa,” she whispered.
Mina shook her head. “I won’t say a word, wolf cub.”
“Lynet!”
Mina was startled by the sudden cry, but Lynet stiffened in recognition: King Nicholas was hurrying toward them. Mina stood immediately, brushing the snow off her dress. She needn’t have bothered; the king passed by her without a glance and swung Lynet up into his arms.
“We’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said.
“I was bored,” Lynet mumbled into her knuckles.
“What were you even doing here—were you climbing trees again? I’ve told you how dangerous it is to climb trees. Those bones of yours are breakable.”
“She wasn’t climbing anything, my lord,” Mina said. “I found her sitting out here, and we were talking together.”
He looked at her like she’d appeared out of the air. But then he seemed to recognize her, and his face softened. “Mina,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything to you sooner. I was so relieved to find Lynet.…”
“I like her,” Lynet whispered to him.
“Is that so?”
“She’s even prettier than Mama, isn’t she?”
The king winced. “No one is prettier than your mama,” he said.
Mina’s pride was a little injured, but she would do better to side with him over Lynet in this case. “If your daughter truly resembles her mother, my lord, then you must be right.”
This softened the blow somewhat, and he smiled fondly at his daughter before setting her back down on her feet. “Can I trust you to go back inside, Lynetbird?”
Lynet pouted, but she nodded. She looked at Mina for a second, her small forehead furrowed in thought, and then she ran forward and flung her arms around Mina’s waist.
Mina laughed in surprise and placed a hand on the girl’s head. She looked up at Nicholas to see if he found this pretty sight charming, but he was frowning. “That’s enough, Lynet,” he said.
Lynet pulled away, gave Mina one last smile, and ran off in the direction of the Hall. Nicholas still wore his frown, and Mina tried to understand what troubled him so that she could say the right thing. She settled on something safe: “She’s a sweet girl.”
“A sweet girl, but not a careful one,” he said, glancing up at the juniper tree. “She latched on to you so quickly.…” Nicholas said, more to himself than to Mina.
“I suppose she wants a friend, or…” Mina took a moment to go over what she was planning to say, which also had the desired effect of making her seem shy or uncertain.
“What? Speak freely with me.”
“You asked me once, a long time ago, if it was easy for a girl to grow up without a mother. I can tell you truly now that it isn’t. I’ve made so many mistakes that I wouldn’t have made if I’d had a mother to guide me. After my mother died, I yearned for feminine guidance, someone to emulate, to learn from. I wanted … well, I wanted a mother.”
Mina barely heard herself speaking. The truth of the words didn’t matter as much as Nicholas’s reaction to them. She observed him as she spoke, waiting to see if she should continue on this path or retreat.
From the way he was glowering, the answer was clear: Retreat.
Mina thought frantically. “Of course, I didn’t mean that I—” She gave a dry laugh and turned her eyes down. “It seems I still don’t know how to speak to kings. I cringe whenever I think of the day I first met you. I’m sure I was very rude. I didn’t even know who you were.”
“Really? I don’t remember you being rude at all. You were genuine. Unaffected. I liked that about you.”
Mina held back a sigh of relief. “Liked?” she said, peeking up at him with a hint of coyness. “Have I lost that quality as I’ve grown?”
“I fear we all do,” he said with a sigh, looking up at the dimmed stars peeking through the clouds. He met Mina’s eyes again, a hint of a smile on his lips. “But I hope some of it still remains.”
She tried to hide a smile, but even that gesture was planned and perfected, artifice designed to look genuine, just like her heart. He was right—somewhere through the years, she had forgotten how to be herself without calculating the effect of every word, every look. She had dressed as a northerner to fit in, and now she was dressed as a southerner to stand apart, always with a view at pleasing the king. She had put up with Xenia’s false friendship in order to feel accepted. She was no better than Felix, adapting herself to please whoever was holding the mirror. Mina wondered if she would ever be able to give him something real, to tell him everything about herself and trust him to reach out to her nonetheless.
“Is your father here tonight?” Nicholas asked her, somewhat stiffly.
“No, m
y lord,” Mina said.
There was a touch of skepticism in his narrowed eyes. “He never seems to accompany you anywhere.”
Mina shifted uncomfortably, thinking of how to answer. Perhaps in this case, the honest answer was the best one. “We’re … not close,” she said with a pained smile.
Nicholas frowned. “And yet he’s the only family you have, isn’t he? That must be lonely for you.” He took a step closer to her and reached out to take her hand, but then he stopped himself. “If you can keep Lynet from climbing any more trees, I’d like to invite you to walk with us tomorrow afternoon by the lake. It’s Lynet’s favorite place.”
“I’d be very honored, my lord,” Mina said, happy to change the subject.
“Are you going back inside?” he said, offering his arm.
Mina considered the offer—she would have loved to see Xenia’s face when she walked into the room on the arm of the king, but then he would leave her to return to his daughter, the best part of Mina’s night already behind her. Better to leave him now, when his memory of her would be of this moment under the juniper tree.
“Thank you, my lord, but I think I’ll retire for the night.”
Did she imagine it, or did his face fall just a little? He wished her a good night, and Mina waited until he was gone before she allowed herself a smile. She inhaled deeply, breathing in the crisp, cold air, and sent a silent thank-you to Lynet for running away and hiding in that tree.
11
LYNET
Lynet kept her head down, but she lifted her eyes to discreetly watch Nadia at work. She had spent much of the last several days in the basement workroom, rummaging through Master Jacob’s journals for answers that she never found, but not once had she or Nadia ever mentioned that shared moment in the tower, when the moonlight had existed only for them.
They were shyer with each other now. Nadia would hand her the journals quickly, before their hands could brush against each other, and Lynet always sat across the table from her, rather than at her side. But the more they took pains not to re-create that night, the more Lynet thought of it, confused by the flurry of nameless, indistinct emotions the memory always stirred.
Girls Made of Snow and Glass Page 10