She’d always thought Mina’s room was one of the most beautiful places in Whitespring. Mina collected pieces of the South that she acquired each market day. Pale orange silk hung around her bed, the gauzy fabric shimmering like liquid. The reds and oranges and yellows of peaches and apples illuminated the room like they were made of light. On the table by her bed was a shining silver-backed hand mirror without any glass in its frame. Mina said she kept it even though it was broken because it had once belonged to her mother.
On the far wall, there was a large, wooden-framed mirror, reflecting all that color and light back at itself, magnifying the room into a world of its own. Lynet paused in front of the mirror, her own reflection startling her. She wondered what she would have looked like had she been born naturally, a child of flesh and blood. Would she still have her mother’s delicate features? Or would her outsides match her insides, her skin finally sitting comfortably over her bones so that she wouldn’t always feel like she wanted to leap out of her own body? She felt trapped by that reflection—and yet some stubborn part of her still wanted to fight for it and take it back from her mother. It was Lynet’s turn to live now, wasn’t it? She had every right to claim this reflection as her own. It would be my own, if I were anywhere but here, she thought. If she left Whitespring, left the promise of a crown and a life that wasn’t hers, then she could be whoever she wanted to be.…
The slamming of a door made her jump, and she heard voices coming from Mina’s parlor. One of the voices was Mina’s, and after listening for a moment, Lynet recognized her father’s voice as well.
“And you didn’t even think to consult me first?” Nicholas was saying.
“You’ve never cared before,” Mina replied. “I’m free to do what I want with the South. That was our agreement.”
“Building and improving roads and reviving the university was one thing, but this is a castle, Mina. What’s the point in taking on such a project?”
There was a heavy pause, and Lynet didn’t need to see her stepmother’s face to know that it was stony with anger. Lynet had years of practice pretending not to notice the arguments between her father and her stepmother. But over the years, whenever she heard Mina’s voice raised in anger or lowered in defiance, Lynet had started to imagine that it was her own, instead, telling her father all the things she wished she could say to him.
“I don’t expect you to understand,” Mina said quietly, “but in the South, the Summer Castle’s abandonment always represented the North not caring about us. Finishing its construction will be a legacy of sorts, not just for me, but for you, too. It will give the South something to take pride in, and it will employ hundreds of people. I know the southerners want this, Nicholas. They write to me all the time, telling me how thankful they are that someone finally cares about them—”
“It will take years, Mina.”
“I have years to give.”
Now Nicholas fell silent, and Lynet held her breath, wondering what he would say and who would win this battle.
“You promised me, Nicholas,” Mina whispered. “Don’t you remember?”
“Of course I do, but I still—” He paused and said in a calmer voice, “We’ll discuss this at a later time, after Lynet’s birthday, perhaps.”
“Construction has already begun. I won’t let you take this from me, Nicholas.”
“Later, I said. I don’t want to spoil Lynet’s birthday with our bickering.” Lynet heard the door open and close again, and then she heard Mina sigh.
At another time, Lynet would have been eager to hear more about her stepmother’s new project. Mina always spoke of the Summer Castle with such affection, telling Lynet all about its golden domes and marble floors, the rest of it abandoned and unfinished. She would assure Mina that she agreed with her decision no matter what Nicholas said, and it would be something they shared together.
But now Lynet could only think of the secret that Mina had kept from her for all these years, and she left her corner to sit on the bed and wait.
When Mina came into the bedchamber and saw Lynet, her face tightened into a strained smile. “You’re early!” she said. “I hope you weren’t waiting here long—”
Lynet couldn’t stop herself. She took a breath and said, “Why did you never tell me that I was made of snow?”
Mina’s mouth hung open in surprise before she recovered and reverted back to her forced smile. “What did you say?”
Her pretense was unbearable. Lynet might have expected anyone else to wave her aside, but she couldn’t accept it from Mina. “Mina, please,” she said in a whisper, “don’t lie to me.”
The smile faded from Mina’s face slowly. She shut her eyes tight for a moment, and then she nodded to herself and opened them again. She walked over to where Lynet was sitting on the bed and gently lifted Lynet’s head with her hands, her fingers curled against Lynet’s jaw. “Who told you, then?” she said, her voice sad but resigned.
“So it’s true,” Lynet said, her last remnants of hope dying away as she looked up at her stepmother with wide, pleading eyes. What she was pleading for, she didn’t know.
Mina started to say something, but then she stopped, her jaw tensing, her hands falling away from Lynet’s face. “Did my father speak with you?” When Lynet didn’t answer, Mina grabbed her roughly by the shoulders. “Tell me, did he—but no, no, he’s away now, he couldn’t have…” She released Lynet, her shoulders sagging in relief as she turned away. “But if he didn’t tell you, then who did?” she murmured to herself.
“The real question is, why didn’t you?” Lynet said, her voice growing louder. She rose from the bed, wanting to stand more level with Mina. “Why did you let me find out on my own?”
Mina grew quiet, and Lynet wished she wouldn’t look so sad—it was making it harder for her to stay angry rather than burst into tears like a child. Without looking at Lynet, Mina walked slowly to the small table beside her bed and gently touched the handle of the broken hand mirror. Abruptly, she pulled her hand away. “There have been times over the years,” she said, still looking down at the mirror, “when I’ve thought about telling you, but as you grew older, the truth seemed more like a burden than a gift. I’d hoped you would never find out.” She looked up at Lynet, the fire reflected in her warm brown eyes. “Don’t you wish you had never found out?”
Lynet started to consider her answer, but then she shook her head, like she was trying to shake something off. She didn’t want to see Mina’s point. She didn’t want to be reasoned with. She wanted to scream, to release some of the panic that was threatening to overcome her. “I know why my father never told me, but you—I’ve always trusted you to be honest with me. You should have prepared me for this. You should have told me something. If it were you instead of me, wouldn’t you want to know?”