Girls Made of Snow and Glass

by Melissa Bashardoust

  She dismissed them all, except for Felix, who stood off to the side of her throne as Mina gestured for the young woman to come closer. “I know why you’re here,” Mina said, voice laced with disdain, “but I want to hear you say it anyway.”

  Nadia took a breath and then said clearly, “I’ve come here to give you Lynet.”

  Mina rose from the throne and stepped down so that she was standing level with the young woman. “And why does Lynet think you’re here?”

  Mina wanted to shame her, to make her cringe or look away, but Nadia did neither, never once breaking Mina’s gaze. Her eyes gleamed, not with the coldness of betrayal, but with the fierceness of conviction. Whatever Gregory had promised her must have been something important to her, something that eclipsed even the shame of betraying a friend.

  “She thinks I’ve gone into North Peak for food,” she answered.

  “And instead you’ve come here, to hand her over to me. What a wonderful friend you are to her.”

  Nadia’s head lowered for a moment, a flash of guilt in her eyes, but she recovered quickly and met Mina’s gaze again. “Your father promised to make me his apprentice. Not even Lynet can offer me what he can.”

  Mina wanted to have her killed on the spot. All she had to do was call for her guards, and they would do it, and nobody would even know that this young woman had ever existed. She thought of all the time this girl had spent with Lynet, all the trust Lynet had put in her, and it made her burn hot with rage. You don’t deserve her, she wanted to say. But instead, she only said, “Yes, I can see why you and my father get along.”

  Nadia winced at that, which was one thing in her favor, at least—she recognized Mina’s words as an insult. “Shall I tell you where she is?” she said, her voice slightly tense. “I can draw you a map.”

  Mina slowly circled her, not wanting the girl to notice her uncertainty over seeing Lynet again. But what Gregory had said was true—Mina didn’t stand a chance against Lynet. As soon as the people of Whitespring knew Lynet was alive, they would unite against Mina immediately. I have my powers, she thought for a moment. But Lynet had powers too, and there was more snow than glass in Whitespring.

  She had to find Lynet first, before she came out of hiding—and then? And then I’m to poison her.

  Again, the thought sent waves of nausea through her. Poison was her father’s plan, but that didn’t mean it had to be Mina’s plan. For now, all she needed to do was retrieve Lynet and contain her somewhere in the castle without anyone knowing. Gregory would be angry with her when he found out, but she’d faced her father’s anger before, and even that wasn’t as painful as the grief she had felt when she’d thought Lynet was dead.

  “All right,” she said, her voice a dull croak as she came to stand in front of Nadia again. “Draw me your map.”

  * * *

  After she’d sent Lynet’s unworthy friend away, back to her old workroom for the time being, Felix approached her, pointing to the newly drawn map in her hand. Lynet was in a spot in the woods surrounding North Peak, not far from the main road. “Shall I take that?” he asked her.

  “Yes,” she said, rolling the map up in her hands after blowing on the ink to make sure it was dry. “Wait a little longer, until it’s fully dark, and then send four guards—it shouldn’t take more than that. They’ll have to take her quickly, by surprise, before she can use the snow to help her. Have them cover her head with a sack, but also tell them to make sure she can still breathe. Tell them … tell them that under no circumstances are they to do her any serious harm.”

  Felix took one end of the rolled-up map, but Mina didn’t release the other end. “You won’t be going with them,” she said quietly, waiting for him to look up at her in surprise or confusion.

  But he kept his eyes on the map. “No, I didn’t think so,” he said. “Not after last time.”

  “I have another task for you,” she continued. While the surgeon had drawn the map, Mina had been thinking of where to put Lynet, where she would be contained and isolated, but safe. She couldn’t imagine putting Lynet in a dungeon, but she thought of another place that would be similarly effective. “I want you to board up the window in the North Tower,” she said.

  She let him take the map from her now, waiting for him to go, but instead he lifted his head to look her directly in the eye. “You won’t do it,” he said.

  Mina had wondered if he would say something to her about her plans, but even so, his words were a surprise. “I won’t do what, Felix?” she said coldly.

  He twisted the map in his hands. “You won’t harm her.”

  It was strange speaking to him now and not seeing her own feelings reflected on his face. Strange to know that he had become something apart from her. “And how can you be so sure of that?” How, she continued silently, when even I’m not sure?

  “Because I know you,” he said. His voice was different too, richer, deeper—the difference between an echo and a human voice.

  “But things have changed, Felix,” she said, brushing her thumb against his cheek. “You’ve changed. Lynet has changed. Would you rather I die instead? Do you want a younger queen to serve?”

  He flinched away from her, eyes narrowing with an anger that she had never seen in him before. “You believe the worst in everyone, even yourself.” He turned and stormed out of the throne room, and this time it was Mina who watched him go without stopping him.

  30

  LYNET

  Lynet ran her thumb over the folded piece of parchment in her hand. This was all she had now, this letter to Mina, but the paper seemed so thin. If she dropped it in the snow, it would likely dissolve, and then she’d have nothing but herself.

  She was several feet away from the road, but with Nadia’s guidance and her own red clothes announcing her presence here among the trees and the snow, she knew she’d be found easily. And she kept reminding herself that she wanted to be seen, to be found, despite the fear that seemed to be a living thing nestled inside her body.

  They came after nightfall. Lynet heard the horses first, the pounding of hooves that echoed her pulse, and she held on to the letter like it would keep her safe from all harm, the paper creasing under her grip. Her legs started to buckle as she fought the instinct to run, but she kept still and tucked the letter into the sash at her waist. When the horses appeared, she immediately looked for Mina among the riders, but saw only four soldiers, no queen in sight.

  The soldiers surrounded her, two of them dismounting. They didn’t draw their weapons, but she kept her distance, focusing on the snow in her mind, thinking of what she could shape to help her.

  She backed up against a tree, the soldiers closing in on her. She noticed that the huntsman wasn’t among them, and she didn’t know if she should be relieved or disappointed. She didn’t recognize any of the blank faces around her, but she knew by their glassy eyes that they belonged to Mina.

  It was so tempting to run, to have the snow fight for her, but she needed to speak to Mina. If she wanted her stepmother back, she had to have faith that the years they had shared together hadn’t been a lie. She had to trust that she knew Mina better than Gregory did. The shriveled heart she’d seen in Gregory’s laboratory was no more Mina than the body she’d made out of snow had been Lynet. And if Lynet wanted to prove that, then she had to stand still for once and make a choice—just as she had to trust Mina to make her choice. Only their choices would determine who they were in the end.

  “I’ll come with you freely,” she said, stepping forward. One of the soldiers approached her and bound her wrists with a cord, which she had expected, but then another soldier snatched the letter from her dress. “No!” she protested, but now her wrists were bound, her balance unsteady as she tried to move toward them. “I need to keep that.”

  “You’re to have nothing with you,” the soldier said, his voice flat and impersonal.

  “But please, it’s just a letter, you can’t—”

  He was already turning awa
y from her, and she knew there was no use arguing with a man who wasn’t really a man. Even the huntsman had seemed more human, more alive. These soldiers had their orders, and they would obey them no matter what Lynet said.

  The soldier who had bound her wrists started to push her toward the horses, but she kept her attention on the one who’d taken the letter, trying to find some source of connection. “Please keep it safe,” she said to him. “Don’t destroy it.”

  He blinked at her, and whether he was responding to her plea or not, he tucked the letter into his belt. Lynet eyed it nervously as she was lifted up onto the horse, and then a cloak came around her body, a loose cloth sack over her head, and she lost sight of everything.

  She went over different possibilities: The soldier would keep the letter. Mina would find it. He would lose it. He would toss it away. Maybe the letter didn’t matter at all. Maybe it wouldn’t have done any good anyway. Maybe it was all too late. Maybe Lynet was enough without it. Lynet spent her blind ride back to Whitespring trying to reason herself out of her worry, but none of her grasping thoughts could replace the feel of the letter in her hands.

  When the sack was removed again, she was in the North Tower, the window boarded up to keep her from climbing out. There were still patches in the roof, though, and she could feel under her skin the snow on the roof, waiting for her command. She hoped she wouldn’t have to use it, but she was glad she wasn’t entirely helpless.

  The soldiers started to leave, but one of them paused at the door, talking to someone outside of Lynet’s view. And then he opened the door wider to let the huntsman step through, shutting Lynet inside the room with him.

  All that had happened to her since she’d run from Whitespring was gone in an instant, and she was once again lying in the snow, looking up at a man with empty eyes who wanted to kill her. The huntsman stepped toward her, and she started backing away until she hit the boarded-up window. Cornered again, just like last time. Just like last time …

  Had Mina sent him?

  The huntsman was shaking his head, holding out his hands, but his hands were weapons themselves, so Lynet wasn’t reassured. She swept her eyes around the room, looking for something she could use as a weapon, wondering if she should call to the snow.…

  “I won’t hurt you. I’ll go outside, if you’d prefer. We can talk through the door, but I must speak with you,” the huntsman was saying. “I must ask your forgiveness.”

  His words finally caught Lynet’s attention, and she tried to push her panic aside as she took in the huntsman’s appearance. After her first terror had passed, she noticed a change in him, subtle but undeniable. He seemed … substantial in a way he hadn’t before, not the looming specter she had always feared. There were worry lines on his forehead that made him look older than she had ever seen him. And his eyes—she saw nothing of herself in them as he pleaded with her now.

  It seemed wrong to be alone with him here, where she had once stood with Nadia—wrong to see his face softened by the moonlight instead of Nadia’s face. She wanted to turn away from him and refuse to speak until he gave up and left her alone, but instead, she drew herself up as tall as she could and said, “What do you want with me?” He had only ever seen her as a scared little girl. Now, she decided, he would see her as a queen.

  He bowed his head, breathing deeply, and then he said, “I did nothing to stop your father’s accident. I didn’t care if he died. I chased after you, nearly killed you. I let you run away, hoping you would die on your own.” When he finished his string of confessions, he looked up at her, his eyes red and brimming with tears. “I feel such remorse,” he exhaled, “and I don’t know what to do.”

  Lynet watched him, trying to make sense of his changed demeanor. “What happened to you?” she said softly, taking a careful step forward.

  “Do you know what I am?” he said, pushing back his sleeve to reveal his scarred forearm.

  The night Lynet had run away, she had guessed, but now she was certain. “Mina made you out of glass.”

  He nodded. “She made me to be hers, but that night, when I let you go … I thought I was betraying her. I assumed she would want you dead, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to kill you.” He looked down at his hands, as though he didn’t recognize them. “I acted from my own will instead of hers, and that changed me somehow. The only power she has over me now is what power I choose to give her.”

  Lynet tried to understand what he was saying, but one part kept repeating in her mind. “You said you assumed she wanted me dead. Tell me—did Mina ask you to kill me that night?”

  He shook his head. “She wanted me to bring you back. I would have made a terrible mistake if I had killed you. I thought it would be easier for her if you were dead, but I didn’t understand…” He clutched his heart. “There was so much I didn’t understand.”

  Lynet almost wanted to throw her arms around him. Mina hadn’t wanted her dead. Mina hadn’t ordered him to kill her. “I’m so glad you came here,” she said to the huntsman without thinking.

  His pained expression softened, and his eyes turned hopeful. “Then you do forgive me?”

  Lynet frowned. For a moment, she had been somewhere else—Mina’s room, sitting in front of the mirror as Mina combed through her hair. At the huntsman’s words, however, she was pulled back into the tower, standing in front of the man who had nearly killed her and who had let her father die.

  Was he the same man, really? The man in the chapel who had confessed to Mina had showed none of the remorse he showed now. He’d had no conscience of his own—he only wanted Mina’s forgiveness, Mina’s blessing. And even then, he had still let Lynet run away rather than kill her.

  Lynet shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “Even if I forgive you for what you’ve done to me, how can I forgive you for what you did to my father? I think … I think if I forgave you now, it would be a betrayal to him.” She turned to the window, thinking of the crypt below them.

  “I’ll wait,” the huntsman said from behind her. “I’ll wait until you can forgive me.”

  Lynet turned. “That might be never,” she said softly.

  He shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. I’ll do whatever I can for you. Even if it isn’t enough to make up for what I’ve taken from you, I’ll try. I … I don’t know how to live otherwise.”

  She walked over to him, thinking. “You’ll do anything for me?”

  He hesitated. “I can’t let you escape again. Mina doesn’t trust me as she used to. The guards are still waiting outside.”

  “I had something simpler in mind,” Lynet said. “When the soldiers brought me here, one of them took a sheet of paper from me. A letter. I need you to find that letter and make sure that Mina reads it.”

  His face fell before he looked away from her. “I have no influence over Mina. She hears nothing that she doesn’t want to hear.”

  “You have to try anyway,” Lynet said. “That’s all we can do for her. Just find the letter and give it to her.”

  “It won’t … it won’t harm her in any way to read it?”

  Lynet shook her head. “I don’t think so. I think it would only do her good.”

  He nodded. “I’ll do what I can,” he said. “I promise you.” He left then, and she heard the sound of the door locking.

  Lynet went to the window and clutched the stone of the windowsill, fiddled with her hair, twisted her skirt in her hands—anything to make her forget that she was empty-handed. That she had nothing to offer Mina now except her own heart.

  31

  MINA

  As soon as the soldiers had left for the woods to find Lynet, Mina had gone to the empty council room with a candle to wait and look over the latest report about the Summer Castle. But not even her work could distract her from the thoughts running through her head. Had they found Lynet yet? Were they bringing her back even now? Would Lynet try to fight them, to use her newfound power over the snow, or would she be too defeated, knowing that the onl
y ally she thought she had betrayed her?

  “I’ve been looking for you.”

  Mina jumped at the sound of her father’s voice. He was leaning against the doorframe, hidden in shadow. When he stepped forward into the light of the candle, she could tell from the way his veins stood out at his temple that he knew what she had done—what she had failed to do.

  She had been leaning over the table, but she straightened now. “I know what I’m doing,” she said softly.

  “The surgeon arrived hours ago. That girl should be dead by now. You should have gone to her—”

  “And why didn’t you just go and kill her yourself?” Mina snapped. She came around the table to stand in front of him. “Why did you give me the poison? We both know why—because Lynet won’t trust you enough to let you near her again. You need me. You’ve always needed me to get what you want.” She paused, savoring the way he was trembling with rage. “I know Lynet better than you do. So I think it’s best if you let me decide how to approach her.”

  “And the poison?” he said, his voice low with barely restrained anger. “Do you have it ready?”

  “Yes,” she lied. The vial was still sitting unopened on the table by her bed. She had considered emptying it out onto the snow, but something in her mind kept whispering that she might still need it. “I’ll do whatever is necessary.”

  A slow, mocking smile spread across his face. “I know you will.”

  Gregory knew she would. Felix knew she wouldn’t. She wondered which of them knew her better—the man who had made her, or the man that she had made. And again, she wondered how either of them could be so sure when, despite her assurances to her father, she still wasn’t sure what she would do when she saw Lynet again.