Girls Made of Snow and Glass

by Melissa Bashardoust

  And as she finally began to feel a tingling in her fingertips, Lynet was determined to live.

  Her heartbeat grew louder, stronger, and soon she was able to open her eyes. There was no knife hovering over her, no sound to indicate that Gregory was near. She was in the crypt, lying in one of the bare alcoves, and she had never thought she’d be so glad to find herself here.

  “Lynet?”

  The whisper was so soft, so uncertain, that Lynet thought she’d imagined it at first, but then she heard it again:

  “Lynet? Are you waking?”

  Lynet had told Nadia to leave, had convinced herself that she wanted Nadia to leave for her own safety. But Nadia’s voice had never sounded sweeter, nor had she ever looked so beautiful to Lynet’s eyes as she did now, peering down at Lynet from beside her, a candle in her hand.

  “I’m awake,” Lynet breathed, her voice weak, her tongue heavy. “I’m alive.”

  At once, Nadia set the candle down and leaned over her, feeling for her pulse at her throat. Lynet’s memory stirred. The crypt—Nadia’s hair brushing against her skin as she lay on a bier. We’ve done this before, Lynet thought. But no, that had just been a dream. This was real.

  “You promised you would leave,” Lynet said.

  Nadia smiled down at her, but her shimmering eyes betrayed how worried she had been, how relieved she was that Lynet had woken. “I’m tired of following orders,” she said. Lynet couldn’t help a faint laugh at the response, an echo of her own words when Nadia had found her wandering outside the university.

  Nadia helped Lynet down from the alcove, an arm around Lynet’s waist to hold her up, and Lynet shuddered to imagine how much worse it would have been to wake up in the crypt alone, knowing that no one alive loved her anymore. She was grateful to have someone to trust, someone to hold her. She curled her fingers against Nadia’s shoulder, clutching at the fabric of her shirt. “I’m glad you didn’t listen,” she murmured, her lips almost brushing Nadia’s neck. “Thank you for keeping me safe.”

  Nadia’s hand fell from Lynet’s waist, and she gently tipped Lynet’s face up to look at her. Her face was serious, her eyes intense. “I wanted you to know,” she said, her voice low and heavy, “that I chose to be here with you—that I chose you.”

  Again Lynet saw the unspoken question on her lips. But this time—this time, she could feel the answer burning under her skin, finally rising to the surface. What do you want? Nadia had asked her once. You never told me what you wanted, she had said to Lynet in a dream.

  With a heady mixture of joy and relief, Lynet answered.

  She closed the space between them, touching her lips hesitantly to Nadia’s, waiting to see if this was right, if this was the meaning buried beneath words and glances and stray touches, the desire she had felt but not fully recognized till now.

  Yes, Nadia answered, pulling Lynet closer, and Lynet melted into the softness of her, her hands winding around Nadia’s neck. When her nails grazed the skin there, Lynet felt Nadia shudder, felt their two hearts fluttering between them in a frantic but still perfect rhythm. Even though they were in the crypt, even though Lynet was pushing back the despair of Mina’s betrayal, she still knew that this moment had been waiting for them ever since Lynet had fallen out of the juniper tree—or maybe even from the morning she had seen Nadia for the first time, mesmerized by the promise of a life different from her own.

  They broke away but still held each other close, their foreheads touching. This was what it meant to feel truly alive, Lynet knew. It wasn’t the magic in Gregory’s blood, and it wasn’t the slow thaw of waking from the poison—it was the way she felt at peace in her own skin, the person she was and the person she wanted to be in alignment at last. And it was her own skin, because when Nadia looked at her, when Nadia touched her, Lynet was herself and no one else, her future hers to shape as she chose.

  But soon the stale air of the crypt forced Lynet to remember why she was here. She reluctantly pulled away from Nadia, her arms going around her own waist defensively.

  Nadia sensed her change of mood, and she said, “I’m sorry about your stepmother.”

  “Did Mina tell you she killed me?”

  Nadia’s jaw tensed. “No, but she wanted me to make sure you were dead.”

  Of course, Lynet thought. She didn’t want to make the same mistake as last time. That’s why she had to watch me die herself.

  The memory of Mina’s impassive face watching her as she fell into unconsciousness made the scream start to build up inside her again. But she wasn’t frozen now, and so this time the scream did rip out of her body, echoing against the vaulted ceiling of the crypt as she pounded her fist against the nearest wall.

  When her rage was spent, she sagged against the stone. She could smell blood on her knuckles. Nadia’s hands rested gently on her shoulders. “Don’t lose your strength now,” she said. “You’ll need it for what’s to come.”

  And she was right. Lynet knew that any chance of reconciliation with her stepmother was lost—and that the only way to ensure her safety was to kill Mina. She had acres of snow at her command, and the advantage of surprise. But she would need more than that—she would need the will to go through with it.

  Lynet backed away from the wall that she had suddenly assaulted, and she saw that it was the partition between the alcoves that held her parents’ caskets. She had seen her mother’s casket plenty of times, but the space beside it had always been empty except for a bronze plaque above with her father’s name. Lynet couldn’t look away from the plain wooden casket. She’d hardly had time to mourn her father, and she couldn’t stop thinking that if she opened the casket now, she could see his face again and say good-bye one last time.

  But she knew it wouldn’t be him, just as she knew that no matter how many times her father had brought her here, Lynet had come no closer to knowing the woman he thought of as her mother, Emilia. She’d been frightened of the crypt for so long, but now it seemed so harmless, so completely empty. Even as her ancestors surrounded her, she knew she and Nadia were alone here.

  “How can I kill the only family I have left?” she asked softly, to no one in particular.

  Nadia answered from behind her. “When my parents died, I thought I had no family, no loyalties, anymore. But I was wrong—you just have to choose your own family from now on.”

  “I loved her so much.” A tear was spilling down her cheek, though she didn’t know which loss she was crying for now—perhaps all of them at once. “But she’ll never believe it, will she? If she could just stand there and watch me die without any feeling at all, then why shouldn’t I be able to do the same?”

  Lynet shut her eyes and drew a long breath, forcing herself to say good-bye now to the Mina she once knew, so that when she went to find her—to kill her—she would have no hesitation, no doubt.

  “I’m ready,” Lynet said finally, turning to Nadia.

  They passed through the crypt, Lynet walking the same path she walked once a year with her father, but this time with her head held high, without any fear. She had been one of the dead lying here; how could she fear what she had once been? Even the Cavern of Bones seemed more somber to her now than frightening, and Lynet didn’t bother to offer the customary prayer to Queen Sybil to end the curse of winter. She knew now that she would have to break the curse herself.

  As Lynet followed Nadia, climbing the winding stairs that led them to the crypt door, she thought she heard sounds of movement coming from the other side. She stopped and took a moment to concentrate, to feel the snow that lay beyond the door. As long as she had the snow, she knew she would be kept safe.

  The moment Nadia opened the door for her, she focused her thoughts into shapes. She summoned soldiers of her own now, the snow rising up into human forms, blank and faceless, but all carrying swords. Their task was to defeat Mina’s soldiers and clear her path until they reached Mina herself.

  She stood back in the darkness of the doorway as the sound of clashing
swords broke the stillness of the air. Nadia took a tentative step outside, only to be slammed against the wall and pinned there by a familiar scarred arm.

  “Felix!” Lynet shouted, emerging from the crypt at last, stunned by the light outside.

  The huntsman had acted on instinct, and now he seemed startled to see Nadia, his grip loosening. And then he saw Lynet and his arm fell away from Nadia completely. Lynet sent the snow swirling up all around him, transforming it into coils of rope that wrapped around his wrists, his ankles, as he fell to the ground. He barely seemed to care; he was too busy gaping at Lynet.

  “Mina … she didn’t kill you,” he said finally.

  “No. But she tried.” Lynet wanted no more apologies, no more excuses, so she used the snow to form a gag and cover his mouth as well.

  “Stay here and keep watch over him,” Lynet said to Nadia. She nodded, pulling a small knife from a sheath at her side. Lynet stepped around the huntsman and continued through the fray with one goal—to find Mina and end this.

  The soldiers were still locked in combat with each other—none of them could die, and so they would keep fighting like this forever, until Mina or Lynet ordered them to stop.

  She summoned more soldiers as she passed through the dead trees of the Shadow Garden. She didn’t know how to wield a sword, so she created a long dagger to carry. In the distance, she noticed that the statue of Sybil was gone, leaving only a blank patch of snow in its place. There was no time to wonder at that, however, so she headed on to the arch that led to the courtyard, a dozen or so soldiers behind her.

  Lynet had thought she was prepared for anything now. She would storm the castle, looking for Mina, to finally end this war between them. But she still wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted her in the courtyard, the collective gasp from so many of the faces she’d known all her life, the people of Whitespring, who surrounded a gruesome, bloody scene.

  Red stained the snow, and Lynet saw that most of it had spilled from Gregory, who was lying dead, his throat split open. And beside him, clutching her chest, blood on her face and hands and seeping from her mouth, was Mina, not far from the juniper tree where they had first met. This Mina was nothing like the cold and composed woman who had given Lynet the poisoned bracelet—her face was ashen and twisted in agony, and her hair, flecked with blood and snow, streamed down over her shoulders. She was no longer a single burning flame but a wildfire, her pain spilling out around her.

  The world seemed perfectly still for a moment. Lynet couldn’t hear the crowd anymore, not even as they murmured her name. She wasn’t aware of anything except for Mina, and the dagger clutched in her own hand. She seemed to hear every one of Mina’s ragged breaths. She saw the tears that were still stuck in her eyelashes before they could fall down her cheeks. And when Mina looked up to find Lynet standing there, Lynet saw with perfect clarity the stunned joy on her stepmother’s face and heard the startled laugh that escaped her bloodstained lips.

  Mina pushed herself up from the ground with enormous effort and staggered toward her before landing on her knees again at Lynet’s feet. “You’re alive,” she was muttering, her hands clutching at the hem of Lynet’s dress. “This is real. You’re alive.” She turned her face up in some kind of pained rapture. Her eyes were red and glistening, not black and empty as they had been in the tower—and Lynet was beginning to doubt that the woman in the tower had really been Mina at all. “I’m ready now,” Mina said. “I’m ready to die.”

  Even in her shock, Lynet had managed to keep hold of the dagger, and she looked up now to see nearly the entire court watching. They were leaning forward eagerly, waiting for their newly resurrected princess to slay her usurper and take her rightful place on her mother’s throne. This was an era they would all willingly forget, and perhaps one day, years and years from now, Lynet would start to forget some of the details too. She would forget that she had loved her stepmother, forget the nights they had spent in front of the mirror, sharing secrets. She would forget that her father had tried to push Mina away from her, forget the part that Gregory had played and that it was probably his blood on Mina’s hands. She would forget the way Mina looked now. All she would remember was the story that would be passed down by those watching: the cruel stepmother, and the wronged princess who had returned from the dead to strike her down and take back what was hers.

  She didn’t want their story to end this way. And more than that, she knew she had the power to change it. They both had the power to change it. She remembered what Mina had told her once, and those words now resounded in her mind, in her bones, in every heartbeat: You’ll find something that’s yours alone. And when you do, don’t let anyone take it from you.

  She thought she heard someone calling her name behind her, but she ignored it, ignored everyone who wanted to take Mina away from her. Lynet let out a breath, and in that same moment, all the snow soldiers behind her fell apart, dissolving back into snow that whirled around her and Mina both, shielding them from the court’s hungry view. The dagger fell from her hands and she dropped to her knees beside Mina, taking her stepmother in her arms.

  They clutched at each other, Lynet allowing herself a moment to cry into her stepmother’s shoulder, but she could feel Mina’s body shaking with pain, and she knew she didn’t have time to lose. She gently drew Mina away but kept her hands on Mina’s shoulders to help her stay upright. “Mina, what happened to you? Did Gregory wound you?”

  Mina wrapped her arms around her own waist and let out a pained laugh as she struggled not to double over. “He cracked open my heart. I can feel it splitting open. I’m dying. There’s nothing you can do now.… And Lynet … please don’t remember me too harshly, if you can help it.”

  Lynet thought frantically. Gregory’s powers were her own, after all, and she wondered if she could fix what he had broken—but she had power only over snow, not glass.

  Mina had power over glass.

  “Mina, listen to me,” Lynet said, worried at the deathly hue Mina’s skin was taking. “You can command your own heart to heal itself. It’s just glass, isn’t it? You can fix it yourself.”

  Mina was shaking her head. “Too tired to fight anymore, too weak…” She started to wobble, so Lynet gathered Mina in her arms, resting Mina’s head against her shoulder.

  “Your father is dead now,” Lynet said. “He has no more power here. Lean on me if you feel weak, but please, please, just try.”

  “Lynet…” Mina rasped. Her tears soaked through Lynet’s dress, hot against her shoulder. “Lynet, I love you. All this time … all this time, I loved you, and I couldn’t see it. Thank you for helping me see it.”

  Lynet let out a sob as she held Mina tighter. Her stepmother—her fierce, unbreakable stepmother—now felt so small and frail in her arms. “I love you too,” she said. “You’ve always given me strength—let me do the same for you now. We still have so much to do together. Please don’t give up.”

  With great effort, Mina pushed herself out of Lynet’s arms and tried to sit up. She wavered a bit, and so Lynet gave Mina her arm to help hold herself up. Mina took a breath and closed her eyes.

  Lynet wished she could do more, but she knew that only Mina could heal herself. All Lynet could do was lend her arm when Mina started to falter, and continue to shield them both from view with the curtain of snow falling around them. She wouldn’t let anyone take Mina from her now.

  Mina concentrated, and every time she started to double over, Lynet helped to keep her upright. When Mina let out a low moan of pain, Lynet stroked her hair and murmured comforting words, telling her she would be all right, that she just had to keep fighting a little while longer.

  Mina’s breathing grew heavier, and fresh beads of sweat formed on her skin. “I think it’s happening,” she managed to gasp. “I can feel it happening.” Her hand tightened on Lynet’s arm, and then she cried out, clutching her chest as her hair hid her face.

  “Mina!” Lynet cried, her skin clammy with fear. She thou
ght of her father on his deathbed, how scared she had been to see him there—but now she was too scared to look away or even blink, in case Mina would be dead before she could open her eyes again. “Mina, please, are you—”

  But when Mina looked up, her skin was quickly regaining its normal color. “I did it,” she breathed. “I can feel it. It’s still … it won’t beat, but it’s … it’s whole, at least.”

  “I knew it,” Lynet said, breathless with relief. “I knew you could do it.”

  Mina took Lynet’s face in her hands. “But you,” she said, her voice still ragged, “how are you here at all? How are you alive?”

  Lynet didn’t answer. She didn’t want explanations, yet. She only wanted to throw her arms around her stepmother’s neck, to bury her face in her stepmother’s shoulder, and to stay here behind the snow shield for a little while longer, in a separate world where nothing could tear them apart again.

  36

  Normally a coronation at Whitespring would have been a grand, public affair, but Mina had insisted that Lynet be crowned as soon as possible, and so it was only a small crowd that gathered in the castle’s throne room.

  Mina was not part of the crowd. She stood at the front of the room, before the two empty thrones, with a golden crown in her hands. That was the tradition at Whitespring—the person who performed the coronation was always a noblewoman who had been designated as the spirit of Queen Sybil, passing the crown to the next rightful ruler. Lynet had cautiously asked Mina if she would play the role of Sybil today, and Mina had agreed at once—she wouldn’t have allowed anyone else to crown Lynet as queen. It was her crown to give, after all.

  An uneasy peace had settled over the castle in the days that had passed since Lynet’s miraculous return. Numerous stories spread from the start about what had happened to Lynet. Mina heard a few of them—some said the princess had never been dead in the first place, and that the queen had lied in an attempt to chase her rival away; others said that Lynet had died, but that she had returned through some kind of magic, the same force that kept Sybil’s curse in place. Mina didn’t care what they said; only she and Lynet needed to know what had happened.