Mina frowned. Felix was taking too long. He should have returned with Lynet by now. He’d caught more difficult prey than a frightened girl, even if she was skilled at hiding. Mina felt the same frustrated fear building up in her that she’d felt before shattering the window, but now there was no more glass to break.
I have to win back Lynet’s favor, Mina thought. When Felix brought her back, Mina would explain herself and try to be the stepmother Lynet had always known—
But even as the thought entered her mind, she knew it was impossible. It was too late. There would be no other chances, no other roles but the ones that had been set for them from the beginning—the bitter, aging queen and the sweet young princess poised to take everything from her.
She heard Felix arriving before she saw him—heard him walking at his normal pace, quick and clipped, and so she wasn’t even surprised when he appeared alone in the doorway.
“Where is she?” Mina said in a whisper.
He shook his head, the moonlight from the broken windows making his dark eyes glow with an eerie intensity. “I don’t know.”
Mina lifted her skirts and stepped around the broken glass to reach Felix, taking his face in her hands and searching for answers in those unreadable eyes. “Felix, what are you saying? You couldn’t find her?”
He tried to turn away, but she kept him in place as a broken, shameful look started to fill his eyes. “No,” he said, “I couldn’t find her.”
Mina released him and buried her face in her hands. If she went to Nicholas … “Keep looking,” she said, dropping her hands from her face. “Look in the trees, especially. I’ll check the king’s rooms. We have to find her.”
But Lynet wasn’t with her father. And Felix hadn’t found her in any of the other places Mina had suggested—Lynet wasn’t by the statue, and she wasn’t in the North Tower, and she wasn’t visibly scaling any walls or climbing across any roofs. Where else could she be? Where else in Whitespring did she spend her time? Who else did she visit?
The surgeon, Mina remembered, the one Lynet had mentioned only once more than a month ago, and then refused to talk about ever again, even when Mina had asked about her. She had known from the way Lynet had avoided her eye that she hadn’t forgotten about the surgeon, only that she didn’t want to discuss her with Mina.
She told Felix to wait for her in the chapel and then hurried down to the surgeon’s workroom. Mina knew her name was Nadia, but she had never spoken to the surgeon or had need of her services before Nicholas’s accident; she hadn’t really taken notice of her at all until Lynet mentioned her. Then she kept watch whenever she saw the girl pass by, noticing her confident yet elegant stride, the way she stared straight ahead, not sparing a glance for anyone around her. Others might have interpreted this as arrogance, but Mina recognized the surgeon’s manner as single-minded purpose. A girl in her position couldn’t afford to show doubt or weakness. She could see why Lynet was drawn to her.
When Mina knocked on the door of the basement workroom, there was no answer, so she went into the empty room to wait.
She hoped she wouldn’t have to wait for long. The hair on her arms prickled with warning, and Mina’s breathing became shallow in the cluttered, dimly lit room, its low ceiling pressing down on her. Her eyes swept over the shelves of vials and jars, the stained wooden table, the books piled everywhere, all reminding her of another workroom, and she understood why she felt so ill at ease here.
She went to the table, leaning against it for support as she fought to control her erratic breathing. She couldn’t let the surgeon find her like this, a scared girl with no power. She wasn’t that girl anymore, and this was not her father’s laboratory. The wooden table underneath her trembling hands was made from a lighter wood than the other table. She opened one of the surgeon’s journals and found notes made in her handwriting, messy and slanted, not like her father’s neat, spiky hand—
Mina frowned, blinking at the journals, trying to understand why, for a moment, she had seen her father’s handwriting. Was it simply a trick her mind was playing on her? But no, she saw it again out of the corner of her eye, a piece of loose parchment sticking out from between the journal’s pages. And there, visible on that parchment were two words written in a hand that she could never forget: Well done.
She thought she had ripped the paper in her haste to pull it out of the journal, but it was already torn, a simple half sheet with those two words written on them and nothing more. There was no signature, but Mina knew from the cold sweat on the back of her neck that it had to be from Gregory.
No longer caring how the surgeon would find her, Mina tore through the rest of the papers, looking for some explanation for the note.
I’m going mad, she thought as she flipped through more journals. The room had affected her, stirring up painful memories, and now she was looking for something that wasn’t there.
And then she saw another corner of loose parchment, stuffed under a pile of books, and she knew she wasn’t imagining anything. Mina pulled out the parchment—two sheets of it—and looked down at a half-finished letter in the surgeon’s hand.
She read through it, her fingers clutching the sides of the paper tightly enough to wrinkle them.
The door to the workroom opened, but Mina didn’t move.
“My lady!” the surgeon said in surprise. “Did you need—”
Mina put the letter down and turned to face the surgeon, her earlier, shapeless distress sharpened into a fine point. “When did you first meet the magician Gregory?” she asked calmly.
To the surgeon’s credit, she didn’t flinch or look away. One hand perched on her hip in a show of confidence. “Before I came to Whitespring. He’s the one who encouraged me to apply for this position.”
“He asked you to spy on Lynet?” Her voice was still calm, but her hands were shaking.
The surgeon’s eyes flickered to the letter in Mina’s hands, knowing as well as Mina did that the letter contained, in her own hand, information about Nicholas’s plans to give Lynet the South, with special attention to Lynet’s reaction to this news, her fears and doubts. She took a long breath before answering. “He wanted to know more about her. Nothing … nothing harmful, just her personality, her reactions to … to…”
“To knowing how she was created?”
And now shame forced the surgeon to look away. “I would have told her anyway,” she muttered. “She had a right to know.”
“And what did my father promise you in return for this information?”
“Passage south and a place at the university,” she answered, voice low.
Mina nodded, putting the letter down on the table behind her. She pitied the young woman, in a way. She had been just what her father needed—a stranger, someone with no loyalty to Lynet, who wanted something badly enough to trade seemingly harmless information for it. Mina might have done the same, in her position.
And now she was here looking for a spy of her own, hoping Nadia could lead her to Lynet.
“Where is Lynet?” Mina asked softly.
Nadia shook her head listlessly, still cowed by her admission, and now that her air of defiance had fallen away, Mina noticed how young she was, how uncertain of herself. She couldn’t have been much older than Lynet. “I don’t know,” Nadia said. “I haven’t seen Lynet since the king’s accident.”
Mina took a step closer to her, searching her face for signs that she was lying, but there was only defeat. “She hasn’t come to see you?”
Nadia frowned now, and Mina could see the pieces coming together in her mind. “Is Lynet missing?”
Her confusion seemed genuine enough, and Mina sighed, turning away in disappointment.
“Did something happen?” she pressed, a note of worry in her voice.
Mina laughed dryly. “Do you think I’ll tell you, just for you to send another report to my father?” She picked up the letter, crumpling it in her hand. “Did you ever stop to wonder why he would want this informatio
n from you, when he could obtain it himself?”
Nadia shrugged. “He said the king didn’t like him, that it was difficult for him to get to know this girl he thought of as his granddaughter. But is Lynet—”
“I’m sure that’s what he said. But did you believe him?” Mina said, her voice growing louder. “You must be a clever girl, to be a surgeon at your age. Didn’t you wonder why he couldn’t just ask me about her? Or why he wanted to be far away while you were here collecting this information? Didn’t you find any of this slightly suspicious?”
“Of course I did!” Nadia snapped. She seemed surprised by her own outburst, and she looked down at her feet as she continued. “But … but it didn’t matter to me then. I didn’t know her then. I didn’t…”
“You didn’t care. You just wanted your reward. Well, let me tell you the cost of that reward. My father doesn’t think of Lynet as a granddaughter, or even as a person. He only thinks of her as his. He has no regard for human life. Why should he, when he can create it so cheaply? And apparently you don’t either, since you were willing to use her for your own gain, to sacrifice her safety just to get what you wanted.” She was tearing the letter up now, ripping it apart as each word that she directed at Nadia turned inward and pierced her, instead.
But her words had some effect on Nadia, as well. She looked stricken, frozen in place, her eyes staring unblinking at the pieces of paper that floated down from Mina’s hands. “You’re right,” she said tonelessly. “I’ve been trying to write that letter all night, but it feels like drawing blood.” She shook her head. “I tried not to let it bother me before, but now…”
Mina tried to remain disgusted, but all she could think was that they were both traitors, both tools her father had used to reach the girl he’d created. And now Lynet was gone, leaving them both alone to face what they had done. Mina had betrayed Lynet for a crown, and Nadia had betrayed her for the university. But how could Mina blame her too harshly for wanting to get away from this miserable place and go somewhere warm? At least one of them could still do it.
“I’ll give you what my father promised you.”
Nadia’s head snapped up. “What?”
“I want you far away from here. I’ll leave a sealed letter and a purse with the steward for you. The purse will take you south, and the letter will grant you a place at the university. My only price is that you leave by dawn and never come back.”
“But Whitespring—”
“We survived without a surgeon before my father found you.”
Nadia was silent for a long moment and then shook her head, resolute. “I can’t go until I know what’s happened to Lynet.”
“Lynet is beyond your reach and mine.” Mina swept past her, kicking aside the scattered pieces of paper. “Remember, I want you out of Whitespring by dawn. Don’t let me find you again.”
“She wanted to run away,” Nadia called after her, and Mina froze. “She wanted to go south with me. She told me that before the accident.”
“And do you think she’ll make it all that way on her own?” Mina said.
Nadia didn’t answer, and Mina knew they were both thinking that for all of Lynet’s restless energy and reckless habits, she was still a sheltered girl, beating at the bars of her cage.
Mina left the room without interruption this time, but once she was out of the surgeon’s sight, she stopped and leaned against the wall of the stairwell, her knees shaking. As soon as she’d known that Lynet hadn’t gone to Nicholas, part of her had guessed that Lynet had left Whitespring. She had pushed the thought aside, to the very back of her mind, not because of fear, but because of the far more shameful feeling that washed over her now—
Relief.
* * *
“Isn’t it better for you that she’s gone?” Felix asked her when they were in the chapel again. “Isn’t it safer that you never find her?”
“No, Felix,” she said, but of course she knew there was truth in his words. Lynet was gone, but at least she couldn’t tell her father about Mina’s secrets.
She breathed in. I’m safe.
And out again. But Lynet’s in danger.
Even when she shut her eyes, she could still see Lynet’s face, holding her hand up to her cheek in pain and shock as a piece of glass struck her—
Somewhere underneath her skin, Mina could feel every sharp piece of glass scattered throughout the room. She concentrated on them, knowing she would need them to give her strength to accomplish this next task, and they started to move, to slither across the ground and join each other. Felix stood watching beside her, his mouth hanging slightly open in awe as one by one, the puddles of liquid glass stretched up from the ground and formed his new brothers.
There were a dozen of them, the same number as in the king’s guard, all with plain, unmemorable faces. She was rushing, though, so some of them had scars similar to the ones on Felix’s arms. Mina clothed them in the same white-and-blue uniform as the king’s guard, as well, instilling in them one purpose: to find the princess and bring her back to Whitespring. She told them to search the woods south of Whitespring, to keep watch over the town in case she surfaced there. Under no circumstances were they to hurt the princess.
“Go,” she told the soldiers, her chest aching from the effort of creating so many people at once, and they marched away, with Felix in the lead.
She had thought she’d feel more at ease once she’d taken action, but Mina couldn’t stop wringing her hands. If anything happened to Lynet outside the castle walls, it would be her fault. Mina was the one who had scared her away. And I’ll be the one to bring her back again, she promised herself.
But a treacherous whisper added, And then what will you do with her? Lynet knew about her heart, and she knew about Felix. How could Mina ever trust Lynet again now that she’d been turned inside out, her rotten core on display to the only person who had still thought she was perfect?
20
LYNET
Lynet stumbled in the darkness, her only guidance the patches of moonlight that broke through the trees. She didn’t think about where she was going but tried to keep to the main road. She didn’t think about what she was leaving, though she kept glancing behind her, sure that the huntsman had changed his mind and was coming after her. She only focused on moving forward, ignoring the tightness in her chest, the lump in her throat. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? she kept thinking. You’re free now. You can be whatever you want to be.
But surrounded by towering pine trees, she didn’t feel free. She felt like a coward, running from the first sign of danger.
With each step, the coins in the purse clinked together, and Lynet had to try not to flinch as she remembered the sound of the shattering glass in the chapel. She kept telling herself it wasn’t true—that Mina loved her, that she hadn’t sent the huntsman to kill her—but the weight of the purse the huntsman had given her was a constant reminder. She lost track of how long she’d been walking, but she knew if she stayed on the road south, she would make it out of the woods eventually, and then she’d arrive at the town of North Peak. That was assuming, of course, that no wild animals attacked her in the woods. Like my father, she almost thought, but she forced it to the back of her mind. There were too many dangerous thoughts, and she stepped around them as carefully as she could, like she was navigating through a field of traps.
Soon, she promised herself. Soon she would reach the town, but she wouldn’t stop there, she would keep going—
Go where?
South, of course. She’d go south, just as she had planned. She would put as much distance as possible between herself and the events of this night, until she forgot her old life and became someone entirely new. That was what she had wanted—the freedom to shape her own future. There was nothing to fear, nothing to regret. I wanted this, she reminded herself again. And every time she stumbled in the darkness, or wondered if she’d heard something growling, or remembered the look on Mina’s face in the chapel, she just rep
eated it once more. I wanted this.
She was still saying it to herself when she felt rough hands grab her, one arm encircling her waist while the other held something sharp to her throat.
He found me, she thought, but the voice that spoke didn’t belong to the huntsman.
“Your purse,” the voice said, low and frantic next to her ear. “I can hear the coins. Give it to me, or I’ll slit your throat and find it myself.”
Lynet remembered Nadia telling her that thieves hid in the woods, that she’d never survive on her own. She struggled to breathe—the blade was pressing into her, and a slow trickle of blood began to flow where it had nicked her skin. “Take it,” she said, fumbling for the purse tied around her waist. She held it up, silently praying that he wouldn’t decide to kill and search her anyway.
But as soon as the thief snatched the purse from her hand, he was gone, leaving Lynet terrified and penniless, but alive.
Lynet ran.
She was lucky, really, she told herself. The thief hadn’t seen the silver bracelet on her wrist, hidden by her sleeve, so she still could buy her way south. If she needed anything else, she would have to beg for it.
In her heavy boots, Lynet tripped over a tree root that jutted up through the snow, and fell on her hands and knees. Something inside her broke, then, and all the dangerous thoughts she’d been trying to avoid caught up to her at last. Her father, the chapel, the huntsman, the thief with his knife against her throat—they all descended on her at once, and she struggled against the tears stinging her eyes, her throat burning from the effort of not crying.
Lynet curled up on her side, holding her knees to her chest, clutching at her dress as she tried to stop the dry, heaving sobs that shook her whole body, each one making her hate herself just a little bit more. She pictured what she must look like now to an observer, and the image was that of frightened prey trying to make itself small and invisible.
Girls Made of Snow and Glass Page 18