At first it had seemed like nothing had really changed. When Mina placed her hand over her heart, she still felt nothing. She was still a queen on the brink of losing her crown. And yet—
And yet nothing was the same. For the first time, Mina felt like she could take a full breath. She sometimes wondered if she should feel horrified or guilty that she had killed her own father, but mostly she just felt a profound sense of relief. The ever-present sense of dread that twisted her stomach was suddenly gone, and Mina hadn’t even been aware of it, not until the moment she knew her father was dead.
But who was she now? Without the bitterness that seeped out of her heart, the certainty that no one could ever love her, who would she become? She didn’t understand who she was now that she wasn’t unlovable.
She wasn’t a queen anymore; she knew that much. And rather than cling to a crown she wasn’t even sure she still wanted, she had decided to pass it on to Lynet as soon as she could. Mina had kept the crown from her long enough.
When Lynet appeared in the doorway of the throne room, her hair pinned up, wearing a light blue dress trimmed in white fur—the colors of Whitespring—Mina knew she had made the right decision. Lynet was already a queen. She would save Whitespring just as she had saved her stepmother, never questioning the worthiness of those she helped.
To the people of Whitespring, Lynet must have seemed as self-assured as any queen. She walked down the length of the throne room, the crowd forming an aisle between them, without a single faltering step. She kept her head high, her gaze only on Mina as she moved toward her. But Mina knew her stepdaughter, and she could see from the way she was taking shallow, uneven breaths that Lynet was nervous. Both of them had dreaded this day for so long, both fearing what they would become—what they would lose—when the crown passed from one to the other. Mina gave Lynet the slightest nod, and she saw Lynet slowly exhale the breath she’d been holding.
And at that moment, Mina made a decision. She couldn’t ever allow herself to hurt Lynet again, and Lynet should have more important things to worry about than the emotional state of her traitorous stepmother. It would be easier for them both if Mina followed her mother’s example and simply disappeared.
I can go south, she thought as Lynet came to kneel in front of her. Mina still had her mother’s letter, the paper already smudged with her dirty fingerprints and worn even thinner from Mina’s constant folding and unfolding. At first she had been so stunned by those last lines, that profession of love, but lately Mina’s eyes had kept falling to a different line: I won’t look for you, in case you don’t want me, but I’ll always be waiting, in case you ever find your way to me again.
Dorothea had kept her promise, if she was still alive. She would have known that her daughter had become queen, surely, and yet she had never tried to find her, to take advantage of Mina’s position. She didn’t even know that Mina had never seen the letter until now. Perhaps she still thought that Mina hated her. And part of Mina did still resent Dorothea for abandoning her, but that resentment offered Mina less comfort than the idea of knowing the mother who had loved her, even if her love had been imperfect. I could try to retrace her steps. I could find her.
Mina said the words that would make Lynet queen, thinking it amusing that she was upholding the spirit of Sybil when she was the one who had taken down Sybil’s statue. She remembered the words from her own coronation—I charge you with the care and keeping of this kingdom, to rule in the memory of those who came before you—and she wondered for one terrible moment how different her life might have been if she had never become queen or never left the South. Who might she have become if her mother had never left, or if her father had been a loving man? The thought made her newly healed heart want to break, but then she remembered that she would never have known Lynet. And she had done some good for the South, at least, during her reign. It hadn’t all been for nothing.
She placed the crown on Lynet’s head, and when Lynet stood, Mina was no longer a queen.
* * *
While the nobles went forth one by one to promise their service to their new queen, Mina slipped out the back door behind the thrones and found Felix waiting outside in the empty hall. He opened his arms to her at once, and Mina threw herself into them, grateful she didn’t have to explain her feelings to him now—her pride at seeing Lynet become queen or the gaping sense of loss she couldn’t ignore. “I’m going to return south,” she said into his shoulder. “I’m going to try to find my mother.”
He stroked her hair and said, “We’ll go whenever you say the word.”
He would come with her, of course—neither one of them had assumed any differently. That was one small change, at least—she used to believe that she would be completely alone if she lost her crown. Now she knew she never would be.
When she returned to the throne room, the procession was nearly over, and finally the crowd started to filter out of the room. Lynet was to remain on her throne, as was customary, until the last person was gone.
But Mina was the last person in the room, and so Lynet let out a long sigh as soon as they were alone. She was happy, though—Mina could tell from the way her eyes shone.
“Queen Lynet,” Mina said softly as she approached the throne. “Your father would be proud.”
“I hope he is,” Lynet said, taking the crown from her head and turning it over in her hands. “Even though I’m not quite what he asked for.”
Nicholas was a fool, and you’re more than anyone could ask for, Mina thought, but instead she said, “I have something to tell you.”
Lynet looked up in concern. “What is it?”
“I’ve decided to leave Whitespring. It’ll be better this way.”
Lynet stood from the throne, her forehead furrowed. “Where will you go?”
“Home,” Mina said, “to the village where I grew up. I thought … I thought I might be able to find out where my mother went when she ran away.” She didn’t say, I don’t have anywhere else to go.
“I’ve decided something too,” Lynet said. She placed the crown carefully on the seat of her throne and stepped down from the dais so she was level with Mina. “I was going to wait to announce it at the banquet tonight, but perhaps I should tell you now.”
Mina’s eyes kept shifting to the crown, but she forced herself to turn away from it and look only at Lynet. “Tell me what?”
Lynet almost seemed a little girl again, biting her lip as she prepared herself to speak. “I never wanted to be queen until I saw how much good you had done for the South and knew that with my powers, I could do the same for the North,” she said in a rush. “But that doesn’t mean I want to neglect the South again. This kingdom is broken, and I can’t fix it alone.” She was gaining confidence in herself, her words becoming firmer, a spark of fire in her eyes. “Do you understand what I mean now? The North needs me, but the South needs you. This kingdom needs us both.”
No, Mina didn’t understand. She was too busy watching her stepdaughter, the girl who had peered at her from a tree so long ago, transform herself into a queen, assured and clear in her purpose. “What are you saying, Lynet? We can’t both be queens.”
Lynet shook her head, her excitement growing. “I know that, but we can’t keep doing things the same way as before—it hasn’t helped anyone. We have to tear the old way down, so we can build something new. I’m creating a new position—a governor to rule the South in my stead, someone who understands what the South needs and who will work with me to unite the kingdom. And I’m naming you as the first governor of the South.”
Mina was finally beginning to understand, to believe. She had always thought that one of them would have to lose, but Lynet was offering her a different kind of victory. For years, she had depended on the crown to define herself and give her the love she so craved, but now … now she could rebuild herself even as she rebuilt the South. “I could still finish the Summer Castle.…” she murmured. The fondest dream of her childhood, to live in the Summer
Castle with its magnificent gold domes, would come true.
Mina’s eyes stung and she turned away. She still wasn’t used to these pangs of the heart that brought tears to her eyes. Once, she’d thought she couldn’t cry at all, and now it seemed she couldn’t stop. She took in the mosaics on the wall, the changing seasons that she had missed so much since coming north. Home. I’m going home.
She turned back to Lynet, who was waiting patiently for Mina to recompose herself. “Do you accept the position, then?” she asked with a growing smile.
We still have so much to do together, Lynet had said to her when she’d been bleeding to death in the snow. And she was right—there was more to be done. Mina could never earn back the devoted worship that Lynet had felt for her as a child, but Lynet wasn’t a child anymore, and for the first time since she’d realized how quickly Lynet was growing, Mina believed that they could build something new, something even stronger than before. It would take time, but she had time now. She had more time than she’d ever had in her life.
Mina nodded, her voice only slightly trembling as she said, “Yes, I gladly accept.”
* * *
Early the next morning, greeted by freshly falling snow, Lynet walked down to the lake where Sybil’s statue had once been. She had to admit that the grounds already seemed cheerier without the weeping statue overlooking them.
She had moved to a new set of rooms now that she was queen. Not Mina’s, of course—those would remain for her whenever she chose to visit Whitespring. But the new rooms were larger than her old ones, and she couldn’t help feeling small when she stood in the middle of them, surrounded by so much space, so many expectations.
But she had become queen without dying, without transforming into her mother, without losing her sense of self. She had felt the crown’s weight on her head without fearing that it would break her neck. There was so much to be done, and she was relieved Mina had accepted the position of governor. Lynet was sure they could work wonders together—they already had.
“It’s strange not to see Sybil there anymore,” Nadia said from behind her.
Lynet had left Nadia a note last night to meet her here in the morning. She had left a note for Mina, too, but she had wanted to talk to Nadia first. Lynet felt the familiar pull as she turned to Nadia, the link between them strong and clear now. But she couldn’t forget the reason she had called Nadia here, or ignore the worry that came with it.
“Come walk with me,” Lynet said.
They walked together along the edge of the lake, their hands finding each other, fingers entangling. These casual touches weren’t heavy with meaning, as they had been before, but Lynet found an entirely different kind of pleasure in the lightness of them, the ease with which she could lean in and brush her lips against Nadia’s cheek.
At the coronation banquet last night, Lynet had placed Mina to her right, Nadia to her left, and no one had said a word to oppose her. Lynet knew the court was still too amazed that she was alive to find fault with her now, but she was sure she would hear the Pigeons cluck in disapproval eventually—because Nadia was a commoner, or because they still didn’t like Mina, or for whatever reason they chose. Lynet didn’t care; she knew now that she was strong enough to fight for the people who were important to her, and so she was ready for that day, should it ever come.
But fighting for the people she cared about didn’t always mean keeping them. Her hand tightened around Nadia’s.
“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” Nadia said quietly.
Lynet halted, her hand slipping away. “I want to ask you something, and I want you to answer me honestly,” she said. “Do you promise?”
Nadia smiled. “Do you still trust my promises?”
“I’m serious,” Lynet said firmly.
Her smile faded away, and she said, “Yes, I promise,” giving the words a special weight.
“I’ve been thinking of ways to bring more progress to the North, not just short-term relief from the snow, but something lasting,” Lynet said. She had been so scared of being a queen, but right now being a queen was easier than being Lynet. Her voice was firm, her stance solid, and she wondered if she looked like Mina. “One of my plans is to build a school here, something small at first, but that could eventually mirror the university in the South—”
“Lynet, that’s a wonderful idea!” Nadia said, her face blooming with excitement. Snow was falling on her loosely braided hair and on her collarbone, and Lynet’s fingers itched to brush it away, looking for any excuse to touch her. It would be so easy to pretend she didn’t have anything more to say.
“Well, actually,” Lynet continued, tearing her eyes away from Nadia to the small lapping waves of the lake behind her, “I thought maybe you’d like to be a part of that, to use what you’ve learned to help others. But … but I also know how much you wanted to leave the North, and I wouldn’t want you to stay just for my sake. So if you wanted to go south again, instead, if you wanted to stay there … I would understand.” She swallowed, and finally she glanced back at Nadia for some hint of her preference, but her face revealed nothing. “Do you want to go?”
Nadia blinked, and then she looked away, a sad smile on her face. “Lynet…” she said. And then she shook her head and pulled a familiar purse from the pocket of her trousers. “I brought this to give back to you,” she said, holding it up, the coins jangling faintly inside. “I wanted to tell you that I wouldn’t need it, because I don’t intend to go anywhere.”
“But I thought—are you sure?” Lynet said, hardly trusting her own relief.
Nadia laughed, her face open and bright, with no shadow to mar her joy. “I would like to go back south someday to visit. But when I said I wanted to go before … I thought going south would make me feel less alone, but I was still so lonely there. The only time I didn’t feel lonely was … when I was with you.” Her eyes fluttered down, a shy smile on her face. “If I had left Whitespring after you were poisoned, I would have made the same mistake as when I agreed to spy on you. I would have been chasing ghosts and memories instead of fighting for something real.”
She pressed the purse into Lynet’s hands and bent her head to lay a gentle kiss on Lynet’s mouth. “That’s why I still choose you,” she said, her lips brushing against Lynet’s. “I want to stay with you and help you heal the North.”
Lynet leaned in, and for a while, neither of them spoke.
“Keep this,” Lynet said, giving the purse back to Nadia. “In case you ever change your mind. It’s only snow, after all.”
Nadia hesitated, but then she took it. “I’ll save it for the new school,” she said with a grin. “I can’t think of a better way to honor my parents than to teach others what they taught me.”
They walked back toward the garden, discussing plans for their school, Lynet’s step lighter than before.
A few minutes later, Mina came striding across the grounds, still every bit a queen. She offered a civil nod to Nadia and then she turned to Lynet with a smile as warm as summer.
“Now that you’re both here,” Lynet said, “I wanted to show you something.”
Nadia and Mina both spoke at the same time. “What are you—”
“Hush,” Lynet said. “Just watch.”
She hadn’t tried this before, but she knew it would work, because she knew this was her true purpose—not to become her mother, but to end this curse at last. The snow was still steadily falling on them, but Lynet turned her face up to the gray clouds and told the snow, simply, to stop.
And it did.
Nadia’s forehead wrinkled as she looked at Lynet’s face, watching as she’d been ordered. It took her several seconds to look up and notice that the snow had stopped falling. But Mina—Mina had noticed at once, her eyes widening in awe.
“The snow stopped,” Mina whispered.
“Did you—?” Nadia started saying at the same time.
Lynet laughed. “I think the snow deserves a rest.” She turned her
attention to the place where the statue had once stood, and she concentrated again until the snow there melted, leaving a square of damp brown soil. “A little at a time,” she said. “People will need to adjust gradually, and I’ll have to keep some of the snow, or else I’ll grow too weak. But I want to make the North bloom again, to make life easier here. I have to try, anyway.”
“If anyone can do it, I know you can,” Nadia said, gazing at her fondly. “I think—” Nadia stopped and frowned as something over Lynet’s shoulder caught her eye. The frown softened into that expression Lynet had seen on her before when she was studying her books—an expression of curiosity and amazement that there was still so much in the world to discover. “Lynet, look,” she said.
The first thing Lynet noticed when she turned was a flash of green. She thought it was just a trick of the light at first, but then she saw it clearly: a long, thin stem with a perfectly formed leaf. When Lynet examined it more closely, she saw that the budding plant was real, a single sign of life in place of Sybil’s statue.
“Lynet.” From behind her, Mina spoke with such breathless wonder that Lynet wasn’t sure what she would see when she turned around.
Mina was pointing to the trees in the Shadow Garden. Lynet stepped closer, coming to stand beside her stepmother, and saw the scattering of leaves and the closed pink buds that were beginning to grow on the dead branches.
The two of them walked through the garden without speaking, and Nadia seemed to know not to follow for now—this was something Mina and Lynet needed to share alone. Mina was looking around in amazement at what was probably the first new life she had seen since leaving the South, and Lynet went up on her toes to examine the delicate leaves, brushing her fingers carefully against their edges. They were so small, like little pink and green stars against the dark wood, but they held the promise of spring.
Girls Made of Snow and Glass Page 33