Girls Made of Snow and Glass

by Melissa Bashardoust

  Mina almost laughed. “Only because you seem so thoughtful. I didn’t want to interrupt your own private contemplation.” He nodded, and Mina could see only his profile, shadowed against the flames. “I wish I knew what you were thinking,” she said, letting herself speak with more honesty than she’d usually dare.

  He turned to her, and they studied each other, though Mina didn’t know what either one of them was looking for. “I was thinking of Lynet,” Nicholas said, “of what is best for her.”

  Mina forced herself not to react, though her eyes couldn’t help flickering up to the portrait above Nicholas’s head. “And what have you decided?”

  He walked to the table with a heavy step, coming to stand at Mina’s side. He reached down and wrapped a lock of Mina’s hair around his fingers. Mina sat perfectly still, hardly breathing.

  Nicholas dropped the lock of hair and looked her in the eye. “I spoke with Lynet this morning,” he said. “She seemed troubled, disturbed by something. When I asked her if something had happened after I left her with you yesterday, she became quiet, almost fearful. After much questioning, I found out that she met your father.”

  Mina felt the blood draining from her face. She thought frantically, but she ended up telling the truth. “I couldn’t prevent it,” she whispered. “I was taking her to her room when he stopped us.”

  Nicholas inhaled deeply and then walked back to the fireplace. “I keep trying to forget who you are, who your father is, but I was only fooling myself.”

  The resignation in his tone frightened her, her skin prickling with worry. “What do you mean?”

  Without looking at her, he said, “We shouldn’t continue to see each other alone anymore. You and your father will continue to live at court, of course, but our interaction will be kept at a minimum.”

  Mina stood from the table. “Nicholas, I—” He turned toward her, and she took a faltering step before beginning to sink to the ground. She was fine, of course—shaken, but not unable to walk—but she wanted Nicholas to come to her. He did at once, bounding toward her before she could touch the ground and holding her up in his arms, and Mina remembered how she had wanted to be herself tonight, without any tricks or games. She’d already failed.

  “Do you need to sit?”

  “No,” Mina said, holding on to his arms to keep herself upright. “No, it’s fine, I just … don’t understand. Have I done something wrong?”

  “No, Mina, of course not. It isn’t your fault.” He looked away from her. “But your father—”

  “I’m not my father.”

  Nicholas still wouldn’t look at her, and the time for timidity had passed, so she put her cold hands in his. “Mina, I can’t…”

  “Please. Please just look at me.”

  He turned to face her, and she was relieved that he seemed as devastated by this decision as she was. She couldn’t accept that she had come this far only to lose him now. “Nicholas,” she said, “all my childhood, people have hated me because of my father, because of his powers. I can’t stand to think that even you would hate me because of him. Hate me for some other reason, but not that one.”

  Nicholas shook his head. “I don’t hate you, Mina, but I—” He stopped, frowning, and for a moment, there was no sound but the crackling of the fire. His eyes hardened, and his hands tightened around hers. “You know about Lynet, don’t you?”

  Mina didn’t know how to answer—she didn’t know which answer he wanted to hear—but her hesitation was an answer, and Nicholas let go of her hands and backed away from her. “He promised me he wouldn’t tell anyone, but he told you, didn’t he? Didn’t he?”

  “I won’t lie to you,” Mina said. The sweetness was gone from her voice, and she no longer pretended to be faint. The time for lying was over. She had to shift her footing, as though balancing on a very high wall that had suddenly started to crumble. If she was careful, she might still not fall. “Yes, I know. I know and I’ve never once told anyone. I would never tell anyone, least of all Lynet.”

  He turned away from her, toward the fire—toward Emilia. She knew she would lose him if he kept looking at the queen instead of her. “Nicholas, listen to me,” she said to his retreating back. “I wasn’t lying when I said I was lonely here. My father is not a good man. He cares little for me, and I’ve always known it. In the years I’ve been at court, you’ve shown me nothing but kindness, especially when I needed it most. Is it so hard to believe that I would feel some … affection toward you? That I would want to be near you whenever I could? I’m no pawn in my father’s games. I … I wanted you for myself, not for his sake. Please—” She stopped, nearly breathless. She had never known that honesty could be so exhausting.

  But Nicholas wasn’t moved by her confession. He kept his back to her, shaking his head slowly. “I almost asked you to marry me tonight,” he said in a low voice.

  She grabbed the back of her chair for balance, but now she actually needed it. “What did you say?”

  “That was why I invited you here. I was planning to ask you to marry me.”

  Mina took a steady breath. “And do you still want to ask me?”

  Nicholas shook his dark head. “I’m not sure. Sometimes I don’t think I should remarry at all.”

  Mina’s fingers curled around the back of the chair, her nails scratching tiny marks in the wood. She had taken off every piece of armor she had, stripped away every lie and pretense, and she was still going to lose him because of her father. She had tried being the sad, lonely girl who needed rescue, and she had tried being herself, as much as she dared. What else could she do to make him want her? What else did she have to offer him?

  She heard her father’s voice in her mind, a quiet reassurance: He can’t content himself with a memory forever. Soon he’ll want solid flesh, and that is something you have that the old queen no longer does.

  He was still facing the portrait, his beloved dead queen whom he could only love from afar. Mina let go of the chair and went to him. Even if she offended him now, at least he would refuse her on her own merit rather than her father’s. She pressed herself against his back, draping her arms around his shoulders, and he let out a small, surprised gasp. “Nicholas,” she murmured, “I don’t want to lose you.”

  He disentangled himself from her arms and turned to her. As long as he stopped looking at that portrait, Mina thought she might still have a chance.

  “Do I look like my father?” she said, turning her face toward the light.

  He managed a single breathless laugh. “Certainly not.”

  “Then what do you see when you look at me?”

  He swallowed. “Mina—”

  “Do you find me beautiful?”

  He started to turn away again, so Mina took his hand and brought it to rest against her cheek. “In the throne room that day, you touched my face, like this. I think you wanted to kiss me. Nothing has changed between us now.”

  After loving a ghost for so long, he seemed to marvel at the feel of her skin under his hand. He was warmer than Felix—softer, too, and she wondered if his touch could transform her from glass to flesh.

  “We’ve both been lonely, haven’t we?” Mina said, and she wasn’t sure if she was still playing a part or if she was speaking truthfully now.

  He was playing with her hair, letting the strands fall between his fingers. “Yes, at times,” he said so quietly Mina could barely hear him. “I didn’t think I would marry again, but…”

  He leaned forward, just slightly, and Mina had to stop herself from pulling him to her in one move. Instead, she thought of Felix, and went up on her toes to place a single kiss below his jaw, where she could feel the heavy heartbeat underneath his skin.

  That simple moment of contact seemed to break whatever self-control he was still clinging to, and he pulled Mina to him, his mouth pressing down on hers.

  If she had known that all she had to do was kiss him first, she would have done it a long time ago.

  He pushed her awa
y suddenly, turning his back on the portrait and Mina both as he ran his hands through his hair. When he faced her again, his eyes flashed with defiance. “Marry me,” he said.

  The words sounded so sweet to her that Mina wanted to hear them again. And she waited long enough that she did.

  He stormed toward her, pulling her to him with one arm around her waist. “I don’t care about your father. I want you to marry me. Will you be my wife and my queen?”

  Mina let out a shaky laugh. “I will, with all my heart.”

  He kissed her again, and then he just held her close, like someone might try to take her away from him. But Mina had fought so hard for this moment that she knew nothing could loosen her hold now. She clung to him in relief, her lips grazing his neck, but then she felt his heart pounding against her chest, and she quickly put some space between them, worried he would notice that she didn’t have a heartbeat of her own. She would have to be careful not to let any embraces linger too long.

  Nicholas kissed her temple. “One more thing,” he said. “We have to tell Lynet.”

  “Now? Isn’t it late for us to go to her?” Mina said.

  He released her and strode toward the door. “Gossip moves quickly, and I don’t want her to hear it from anyone but me.” Nicholas sent for his daughter, and then he turned back to Mina, his expression serious. “You understand, of course, that I can’t allow Lynet to become too attached to you. I don’t want your father to be alone with her, and if that means that you’ll have to keep her at a distance, then so be it.”

  “Of course,” Mina said. She would have been a fool to say otherwise, no matter what fondness she had for the girl.

  When Lynet arrived, eyes a little red from sleep but still bright and curious, Nicholas stood by Mina. He looked at her, and then at his daughter, and he took a step forward. He cleared his throat and said, “We have something to tell you, Lynet.” He paused, probably wishing that Lynet would piece the news together and announce it herself to spare him the effort. When she didn’t, he continued: “You’re going to be a queen one day. You know that, don’t you?”

  Lynet solemnly nodded her head.

  “But until that day comes, this kingdom needs a queen, and that means I … I have to marry again. Do you understand?”

  She nodded again, her eyes darting to Mina.

  “Mina and I are going to be married,” Nicholas finally said.

  Lynet looked directly at Mina now and tried to hide a smile. “You’re going to marry my papa?”

  “I am,” Mina said.

  “Does that mean you’ll be my mama?”

  Mina started to speak, but Nicholas descended on Lynet, going to one knee in front of her. “Listen to me, Lynet. Just because I’m marrying again doesn’t mean I’m trying to replace your mother.” He gestured to the portrait. “That’s your mama, and she always will be. Mina is going to be your stepmother.”

  Lynet’s lower lip started to jut forward, but she stopped it before it could become a pout. She looked pleadingly over her father’s shoulder at Mina.

  But Mina had already made her choice. “Your father is right,” she said.

  Lynet shuffled closer to Mina, staring up at her with those eyes she’d inherited from her mother—but the truth was that she had no mother, except for the snow. Maybe some part of her understood that, and that was why she wasn’t willing to give Mina up so easily. Lynet carefully wrapped her arms around Mina’s waist, laying her head against Mina’s stomach.

  Nicholas was watching them, waiting to see how Mina would respond. And despite the girl’s arms around her waist, Mina felt a fierce stab of resentment toward her for making such a gesture in the first place and endangering Mina’s precarious new position. She hung on to that resentment, irrational as it was. She would need it to do what she had to do next.

  Mina gently drew the girl away from her. Nicholas nodded his approval, and Mina focused on that rather than on the dejected slump of Lynet’s shoulders. Nicholas took Lynet’s hand to lead her away, and Mina kept her eyes on him rather than on Lynet’s bowed head. If ever there was a time to be heartless, it was now.

  16

  LYNET

  The king’s had an accident.

  Lynet knew that could mean any number of things, that there was no reason to think anything terrible had happened, but she knew from the sudden numbness in her fingertips she should expect the worst.

  “Is it—” Nadia started to say, but then her head moved just barely in Lynet’s direction and she simply nodded. “I’ll come at once.”

  The moment Nadia turned to get her surgeon’s bag, Lynet pushed past her and ran out the door. “Lynet, wait!” she heard Nadia calling after her, but she couldn’t wait. The truth couldn’t be as terrible as what she was imagining, and so she needed to know the truth at once.

  The courtyard was crowded with people, most of them gathered around a few men in riding habits—noblemen who’d accompanied the king on his hunt. In the low rumble of the crowd, Lynet made out the words stag and blood, but she didn’t want to hear any exaggerated reports—she wanted to see her father.

  Still, she stood frozen on the edge of the crowd, unsure how she would make her way through it without anyone stopping her. Desperately, she looked up: maybe if she scaled the walls, no one would notice, and she would get to her father’s rooms faster.

  She jumped as a hand came around her waist. Nadia had caught up with her, and she didn’t say anything as she ushered Lynet through the crowd, shielding her from curious eyes.

  Mina was already there when they reached her father’s rooms, alone except for the scarred huntsman. There was blood on his hands and forearms, the flash of red drawing Lynet’s attention at once.

  Mina staggered and put one hand on the huntsman’s arm to keep herself upright. It was the sight of her stepmother, ashen and disoriented, that made Lynet lose what remaining composure she had.

  “Where is he?” Lynet ran forward, not caring about her fear of the huntsman. “What happened?” She took hold of his arm and decided she wouldn’t let go until he told her. “Please.”

  He looked to the queen, but she hardly seemed to notice Lynet at all. “An accident,” he said to Lynet. “A stag.”

  Lynet ran toward the door of the bedchamber, not waiting to hear more. He’s dead. He’s dead like my mother, he’s left me to be with her, he’s dead, he’s dead. But before she’d reached the door, strong arms held her back. “Let go of me,” Lynet choked out. She fell to her knees, and only then did she see that it was not the huntsman, but Mina, who was holding her.

  “Let the surgeon attend to him first, and then you can go in,” Mina was saying. Surgeon. Because he was torn open. Because he’s dead. Nadia would know. Nadia would tell her. She was speaking quietly with the huntsman, but when Lynet tried to catch her eye, she turned her head away.

  “He’s dead,” Lynet said, the words repeating over and over again in her mind. He’s dead, he’s dead, like her.

  “He’s not dead.” Mina put her hands on Lynet’s shoulders. “Listen to me. He’s lost a lot of blood, but he’s not dead.”

  Nadia cleared her throat, gesturing to the door that Lynet and Mina were blocking. “I’ll do what I can to help,” she said.

  “Go, then,” Mina commanded, and when Mina commanded, anyone would obey.

  Nadia hurried inside the room, shutting the door quickly behind her. Lynet wanted to follow, but Mina was still holding her.

  “So he’s alive,” Lynet said, testing the words, finding them so much sweeter than her previous refrain. He’s alive, he’s alive.

  “He’s alive for now,” Mina said with a mix of sadness and relief.

  “For now? But he—but you said—”

  “His wounds were severe. The stag gored him. He may not be with us much longer.”

  It didn’t make sense to her. There was dead, and there was alive, but Lynet didn’t know what to do with anything in between.

  “Lynet, do you understand what
I’m saying?”

  “But he’s not dead,” Lynet insisted. She just needed to explain to Mina that she was wrong. Mama was dead, but Papa was alive. That was how it had always been. “He can’t die.”

  “Anyone can die,” Mina murmured.

  She stood, becoming again the queen that Lynet knew so well. Lynet didn’t know how to put herself back together as quickly as Mina; she stayed where she was on the floor, part of her believing that if she just waited here long enough, her father would come walking out through the door, alive and whole. Mina gave a slight nod to the huntsman, and he returned it and walked out of the room, leaving them alone.

  Mina slowly paced around the room in silence. The dull gray light from the window made her seem faded and ghostly, lost in another world, and Lynet didn’t know how to bring her back. She couldn’t bear this silent waiting, though.

  “They’ll be able to save him, won’t they?” she said, her hands twisting in the folds of her dress.

  Mina sank heavily into one of the chairs by the fireplace, resting her head in her hands so that her hair curtained her from view. Then she lifted her head, looked into the empty fireplace, and said, “I don’t know.”

  That’s not what you’re supposed to say, Lynet thought. Mina was supposed to help her, to offer comfort or reassurance—but lately, Lynet felt that she was the one who kept trying to comfort Mina, instead.

  “Just tell me that he’ll be all right—”

  “Lynet, I don’t know,” Mina snapped.

  “Stop saying that!” Lynet shouted, her voice shrill with barely restrained panic. She rose to her feet, though her legs were trembling. She hated feeling so afraid, hated feeling weak and helpless to protect anyone she cared about. But how was she ever supposed to be brave, when Mina wouldn’t even look at her? “How can you just sit there?” Lynet said, the words bursting out of her. “How can you be so calm? You don’t even care if he recovers, do you? But then, why should you? You never loved him.”

  Finally Mina turned to look at Lynet, her eyes cold, and Lynet’s anger shrank away, leaving her only with shame. “Mina, I didn’t—”