Girls Made of Snow and Glass

by Melissa Bashardoust

  “You’re right,” Mina said, her voice low but clear. “I don’t love him. I thought I did once, a long time ago. But you’re wrong to think I don’t care what happens to him.” She hesitated and then she said, “You’ll be queen if he dies, you know.”

  Queen? It was the last thing on Lynet’s mind. She would renounce any claim she’d ever had to the throne if it meant keeping her father alive. “I don’t care,” she said. “None of that matters to me.”

  Mina smiled, a frightening twitch of her lips, and looked away again, her fingers curling against the chair’s armrests. “It’s so easy for you, isn’t it?” she said in a whisper. “If I’d had a father like yours growing up, maybe I wouldn’t care about being queen either.”

  Lynet went silent, cursing her own thoughtlessness. She knew being queen meant more than a crown to Mina, but only now did she fully understand the inevitability of her losing that crown. Whether it mattered to Lynet or not, she would become queen on the day her father died—today or years in the future—and on that day, Lynet wouldn’t be the only one to lose something dear to her.

  “Mina—”

  The door to her father’s bedchamber opened before Lynet could continue, and both she and Mina turned as Nadia stepped out of the room. Her face was drawn, and there was light perspiration on her forehead as she took a few heavy breaths. “He’s lost a great deal of blood,” she said, looking only at Mina. “I’ve given him henbane, to make him sleep.”

  “Could I…” Lynet swallowed. “Could I see him?”

  Nadia sighed as she turned to her, but then she nodded. “He may not be coherent enough to speak with you, but you can go to him, if you wish.”

  Mina rose from her chair. “I’ll let you go in alone. You need better comfort than I can offer you right now.” To Nadia, she said, “Call for me if anything changes.”

  Once Mina was gone, Lynet had no more excuse to wait. She stood in front of the door, bracing herself.

  “Do you want me to go with you?” Nadia asked her, placing her hand lightly on Lynet’s shoulder.

  “No,” Lynet said. “Just … just tell me if he’s going to live. Be honest with me.”

  Nadia’s hand tightened for a moment, and that gentle pressure was answer enough. “If he does,” Nadia said, “it probably won’t be for much longer. You should say good-bye now, just in case. And Lynet—”

  Lynet turned, facing her.

  “About earlier, when we were talking in the workroom—”

  Lynet shook her head, shrugging Nadia’s hand off her shoulder. “Not now. I don’t care about that now.”

  Before Nadia could respond, Lynet slipped into her father’s bedchamber, shutting the door behind her. As soon as she was inside, she shivered, her whole body recoiling from the motionless form resting on the bed. She had thought nothing could be worse than the crypt, but now she knew she was wrong.

  But she forced herself to move toward the bed. The thought was floating in her head, though she felt too guilty to articulate it, that she needed to be quick, in case he died while she was standing there.

  The wound at his side was heavily bandaged, and his skin was sallow, but her father looked peaceful in his drugged sleep. Pleasant dreams, Lynet hoped. Hesitantly, she reached for his hand, but it took her three tries before she managed to touch him. She’d thought he was too far gone to wake, but at the touch of her hand, he groaned, and Lynet snatched her hand back. He was alive, at least. Dying, but alive, still alive.

  He looked up at her, his eyes clouded from his unnatural sleep. He said one word:

  “Emilia?”

  “No,” she heard herself say. “No, it’s not Emilia. It’s Lynet.”

  “Lynet,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering closed again.

  “Yes, Lynet,” she repeated. She had come here to say good-bye, but as soon as she started to speak again, the words seemed to tumble out of their own volition. “I’ll always be Lynet,” she continued in a whisper. “I don’t want to become her. I don’t want the South, and I don’t want to be queen, and I wish … I wish I didn’t even look like her. I wish you’d stop seeing her whenever you look at me. I wish you’d stop wanting me to be like her so badly.” Maybe she could only speak her mind now because he couldn’t really understand her, or maybe it was because she knew this might be her last chance, but now that she had started, she couldn’t stop, the stiff and careful speech that she had rehearsed forgotten. “I wish I knew how to make you happy without forgetting who I am,” she said, choking on the words. “But … I still love you, and … and I wanted to say good-bye.”

  Her voice was breaking, but she felt so light at that moment, light and whole.

  Nicholas opened his eyes to look at her, though he didn’t quite seem to see her, and again he breathed her mother’s name.

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes, it’s me. Emilia.” She would grant him this one favor. She could do it without fear, now that she had told him the truth.

  She bent down and kissed his forehead, quickly withdrawing before he asked for anything more. I’m not my mother, she reminded herself. I am alive.

  His eyes slowly closed again, and she backed away, grateful to see the slow rise and fall of his chest as she left the room.

  * * *

  Sybil was waiting for her by the lake, hiding her face in her stone hands as always. Tonight’s birthday celebration had been called off, of course, and so Lynet paid no attention to the gradually darkening sky as she huddled underneath the statue, hugging her knees to her chest and saying silent prayers for her father.

  It was strange, the way nothing had changed. Queen Sybil wept; the lake was as serene as ever; the trees in the Shadow Garden twisted their naked arms up to the sky. It didn’t seem fair that Lynet should enjoy anything beautiful while her father was dying (alive, but dying; dying, but alive). I should have stayed, she thought. I should have waited until the end.

  But then she had heard him calling her by her mother’s name, and the panic had overwhelmed her. She hugged her knees tighter, and she knew she wouldn’t go back, not now, not when death was so near. This wasn’t a game anymore. What if when death came for her father, he mistook her for her mother and took her, as well?

  But she was already on the verge of death, wasn’t she? Because if Nicholas lived, she would never be able to refuse his offer of the South, not after nearly losing him, and if he died, she would become queen. And either way, Lynet feared that she, too, would slowly die away, leaving nothing but Emilia.

  And either way, Mina would hate her for it.

  The shameful memory of her fight with Mina finally brought Lynet to tears, and she made no sound as she wept into her hands like sad Queen Sybil above her—Queen Sybil, who was only remembered for her death and the damage that followed. And how would Lynet be remembered? As a scared little girl who lashed out at the people she loved?

  It’s so easy for you, isn’t it?

  Lynet lay her head down on the snow and closed her eyes, willing herself to stop crying, to stop thinking of her father or Mina, to stop thinking of anything at all.…

  When she opened her eyes again, her neck was hurting and the sky was completely dark except for the moon shining overhead. She must have fallen asleep. As she eased out of her curled-up position, she remembered what had brought her here in the first place, and she wished she could dive back into unconsciousness and make the whole world disappear once more.

  She crawled down to the lake’s edge and washed her face. The wind was making ripples in the water and whistling through the trees in the Shadow Garden in a mournful wail. Lynet thought it sounded like words: Run away. She heard the words in her head, as urgent as a command, but as gentle as a whisper. Run away, run away.

  “I can’t. I shouldn’t.”

  It made sense, though. Nadia had made it clear that her father’s life was already over, and this way, no one would ever bring her news of his death. There would be no news to tell, not if she were long gone from here. Even if he so
mehow lived, Mina would still have everything she wanted, since Lynet wouldn’t be there to take it from her. And Lynet—

  Lynet would be free.

  She heard another urgent whisper, but this time it was Nadia’s voice asking her, What do you want?

  But she had told Nadia what she wanted, and Nadia had denied her, making Lynet feel weak and spoiled, a butterfly with stunted wings that had never learned to fly. Nadia would stop Lynet from going, if she knew.

  Then I won’t tell her.

  Lynet rose to her feet. The whisper gave way to the deafening roar of her heart pounding out the words in a kind of furious chant:

  Run away, run away, run away.

  Nadia thought Lynet couldn’t survive outside Whitespring, but she was wrong; the only way to survive at all was to leave Whitespring, to make a new life for herself outside these walls. She’d been born and shaped from a dead woman, living under her ghostly shadow, and now she would finally escape it the only way she knew how.

  She would pack what she needed tonight and then leave right before dawn, when it was still dark—and perhaps by then she would know her father’s fate for certain. Lynet focused on the blood rushing through her body, on the strange bubbling energy that filled her chest and almost made her want to laugh, just so she could release some of it. She needed to remember this feeling, because she knew it would all shrivel away when she went to see Mina. She couldn’t leave knowing that Mina was angry with her, that their last words to each other had been laced with resentment.

  She didn’t bother going to Mina’s room. By now she knew where her stepmother would go when she was most distressed.

  But the chapel was empty when Lynet arrived. She walked slowly down to the central altar. Her burst of energy from making her decision was fading, and now her nervousness at seeing Mina again was settling over her.

  Footsteps were approaching, and at first Lynet thought it must be Mina, but this was too heavy a step to belong to her stepmother. Instinctively, Lynet hid behind the large stone altar, peeking out to see who else other than Mina would come to this abandoned chapel.

  Her question was answered as the scarred huntsman stepped urgently into the room. Had he followed Lynet here? What would he want with her? She shrank back behind the altar, afraid that he would reach down and grab her by the scruff of her neck like an animal. His sleeves were still caked with dried blood.

  But he just stood there, waiting, until Lynet guessed he must be meeting someone here—a secret romance, perhaps. She felt a flush of anger on her stepmother’s behalf, that anyone should use her haven for their own purposes. She was even more irritated because she knew she couldn’t leave the room until he was gone, and her legs were cramping from her crouched position.

  She was curious, though—was this indeed a romantic tryst? And if so, who would love such a man? He was obviously strong, and he was attractive enough, square-jawed and broad-shouldered, and she supposed those scars gave him a dangerous kind of appeal. But who could look into those strange, vacant eyes and ever find love or warmth shining back?

  The huntsman’s head shot up as a silhouette filled the doorway. “I’m sorry I’m late, my love, but I was detained on the way.”

  Lynet recognized her voice at once, of course, and so she was already clutching the stone altar in shock when the silhouette stepped forward and became Mina.

  17

  MINA

  The engagement was quiet, and the wedding ceremony was small, just as Nicholas wanted. He seemed to think that celebrating his remarriage at all would offend his dead wife.

  Still, Mina considered it a triumph. She had paid close attention to Xenia when Nicholas made the announcement that Mina would be Whitespring’s new queen, relishing the look of shock that passed over the woman’s face before she managed to hide it. Marrying the king had become more than a means of securing a husband and a crown—it was now an act of defiance.

  She felt it even more when she took her place at the high table beside the king at the wedding feast, two months after his proposal. The Hall was filled with people who had once turned away from her, but not even their disapproval had been enough to keep her from this seat. She, the magician’s daughter, was now their queen, and the magician himself was seated to her left.

  At her right was the king—her husband—and to his right was Lynet. Mina wished the girl were seated elsewhere; at her father’s side, she commanded his complete attention, leaving Mina with only the back of his head and Gregory for company. She wasn’t sure which she preferred.

  “You could be a little happier on your wedding day,” her father whispered. He barely looked at her as he spoke, his eyes shining with the light from the Hall.

  “I’m bored,” Mina muttered. “I didn’t think my husband would rather talk to a child than to me.”

  “Bored? Then I’ll have to provide you with entertainment.”

  Before she had the chance to ask him what he meant, Gregory stood. He waited for the noise in the Hall to die down as everyone, including Mina and Nicholas, turned their attention to him. A vague unease fell over the room.

  “Thank you, everyone, for celebrating this day with us,” he called out, and Mina wanted to cringe at his presumptuousness. “As the father of our beautiful new queen, I would like to bestow a gift on the royal couple, if I may.”

  Nicholas turned to Mina with a puzzled and slightly fearful look, but Mina only shrugged. After a brief hesitation, the king nodded to Gregory and then moved closer to his daughter.

  Gregory descended the dais. He gestured to two men at the end of the Hall who quickly exited and then returned carrying an enormous object covered by a sheet. They set it down before the dais.

  “My lord, my lady, I present to you both a gift made by the finest northern artisans.” In one flourishing movement, he removed the sheet, and Mina saw—herself.

  The mirror was taller than her father, its dark wooden frame simple and unadorned. It was the first time Mina had seen herself since becoming the king’s wife. The wedding had been surreal, like walking in a dream. But this—this woman in the glass wearing a golden circlet—this was something to believe in.

  I am queen.

  Nicholas stood, and she walked beside him, stepping down from the dais to approach their gift. Her husband was thanking Gregory, but Mina didn’t hear him, too captivated by the woman in the mirror. She wanted to reach out and touch the glass, to call it to her, but she knew she mustn’t, not yet.

  The crowd in the Hall applauded loudly, freeing Mina from the mirror’s strange spell. She almost shrank from their collective stare at first. Did they see a southern girl, an outsider, raised above her station? But no, there was no scorn on the faces of her new subjects. Even those who had once mocked her knew better than to insult a queen. In their eyes, she saw herself as they did—beautiful, yes, but more than that—regal, powerful.

  They loved her.

  Mina heard the sound of someone running from the dais, and then Lynet was at her father’s side, eager to be a part of this new game. Laughing, he swung her up into his arms and brought her closer to the mirror as Mina shrank to the side. Lynet was exploring the mirror with her hands, running her small, chubby fingers over the wood, and Mina flushed with unexpected annoyance.

  She would ask herself later if she could have prevented what happened next; she saw the parts, but hadn’t been able to figure out the whole quickly enough to stop it. Gregory, sensing the crowd’s growing restlessness, ordered his men to lift the mirror and take it away. At the same time, Nicholas knelt to set down his daughter. As the mirror was lifted from the ground and Lynet rejoined it, the two collided, Lynet’s head hitting the bottom of the mirror.

  A gasp filled the room, and there was a tense silence before Lynet started to cry despite her best efforts not to, her face screwed up in pain. Nicholas snatched her up at once, pushing back her hair to reveal the cut—nothing as large as Mina had feared, but enough to send a trickle of blood down the girl’s forehea
d onto her cheek.

  Nicholas barked at one of the servants to call for his surgeon and then glared at Gregory’s men, who had set the mirror back down. “Get rid of it,” he commanded, cradling Lynet in his arms.

  He started to turn away, but Gregory appeared in front of him, blocking his way. “My lord,” he said, bowing his head. “I have some skill with medicine, and I wouldn’t want you to miss your wedding feast. Give the child to me, and I will see to her. After all, we’re family now, aren’t we?”

  Mina watched this display in horror. After Nicholas’s proposal, she had told Gregory how close she had come to losing Nicholas because of his interference, and though he had glowered at her, she thought he had understood. But perhaps he had understood—he had chosen this moment to ask for Lynet, when the whole court was watching. If Nicholas refused his generous offer or insulted him in any way, everyone would wonder if there was some deeper meaning behind it, and the last thing Nicholas wanted was speculation about his daughter. Mina wondered how accidental Lynet’s injury truly was.

  She couldn’t see Nicholas’s face from where she was standing, but she could see his defeat reflected in the coldly triumphant gleam of her father’s eye. She wanted to intervene, to snatch Lynet away from them both, but she knew that if she approached them now, Nicholas would think she was part of her father’s plan.

  Gregory reached for Lynet, who was clinging to her father with all her strength, but then one of the guards came forward with the king’s surgeon. Nicholas gratefully handed Lynet to him, instead, while Gregory shot an angry glare at the intruding surgeon. “Your offer is appreciated but unnecessary,” Nicholas said to Gregory for the benefit of the crowd. He followed the surgeon out of the Hall, not once looking at his new queen.

  Mina stood there helplessly, not sure if she should follow. Rumbles echoed throughout the Hall, and Mina knew that if she didn’t quiet them now, they would overpower her. From the corner of her eye, she saw Xenia, the ghost of a smirk on her lips. How satisfying it would be for her if Mina should begin her reign in confusion and chaos. Mina’s fists clenched at her side. I am a queen, she reminded herself. And I am loved.