Girls Made of Snow and Glass

On the day of the picnic, Mina went alone to the Shadow Garden. She didn’t think this nightmarish collection of twisted, dead trees deserved to be called a garden at all, but she had to admit that the garden was almost pretty today, the lanterns hanging from the trees’ bare branches lending an orange glow to the snow. The entire court was here for the princess’s first appearance, along with a considerable number of visiting nobles. A tented pavilion had been set up away from the trees, and underneath it sat King Nicholas, as well as a nurse with an active two-year-old on her lap. The princess was struggling against her nurse’s arms in an effort to join a group of children running and playing under the trees.

Mina felt lost in the crowd. She recognized some faces from the Great Hall, but she had no friends or allies among any of them. She watched as old friends waved to one another, and she began to wish she had spent less time watching the king and more effort making a friend or two at court. She had come here today secretly expecting the crowd to part for her at her arrival and form a path for her straight to the king, who would be instantly struck by her beauty. But that was romantic nonsense that she should have put aside years ago.

She would approach this opportunity more practically, then. She needed to be approachable—alluring—to make people come to her instead of begging for attention from the fringes. She wandered through the crowd, looking for the right moment, the right person. She just needed someone to see her, to be drawn in by her beauty.

There—standing not too far from the pavilion were two men, both young enough that it was possible they were unmarried, engaged in conversation. Mina walked quickly, looking in the other direction as she headed toward them, letting herself accidentally collide with one of the men.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she said at once, stepping away from him so that he could see her better. “I should have been watching where I was going.” The two men both started to scowl, but when they turned to see who had so clumsily interrupted them, their mouths fell open, their scowls forgotten.

Yes, Mina thought, look at me. She stood there, inviting them to see the way her hair so perfectly complemented her emerald-green dress. They would know her southern roots by the gold hue of her skin, but they would also have to notice how soft that skin was, her neck bare even though she was cold. Their eyes flashed brightly as she submitted herself to their gaze, lifting her chin and forcing herself not to turn away as she once again wondered, Is this all I am?

“No need for apologies,” the shorter one said, running a hand through his limp brown hair. “Especially not if you stay and talk with us.”

Mina smiled and put her hand on her throat, noticing the way their eyes followed. “Thank you, gentlemen,” she said. “I’m afraid I don’t know many people at court, and it would be such a comfort to have a friend.”

She chirped and preened for them like a songbird in a cage, begging to be sold, but always standing so that she had a view of the king. Before long, others joined their circle—at first only other men, but soon some women joined them as well, until Mina became the main attraction of the festivities. They all swept their eyes over her at first, a slight frown of hesitation on their faces as they realized she was an outsider, but then Mina would smile or fiddle with her hair, and their gazes became more appreciative.

The king seemed preoccupied with making sure his daughter didn’t run off to join the other children playing by the trees, swinging branches as makeshift swords, but Mina knew he would notice the growing circle of people eventually, and then he would see her at the center of it all, shining like a beacon calling him to her.

In the end, it was Mina’s laugh that caught his attention. He had been listening to some old man who was leaning over to whisper something to him, eyes glazing over with boredom, when Mina pretended to laugh at something she was only half listening to in the first place. The king turned his head at the sound, and then he saw Mina, his head slightly tilting in curiosity as he noticed the small crowd of people around her. Mina held her head high, wanting him to see her like this, adored and admired, rather than the lonely girl in the courtyard, but after only a moment, he turned back to the old man.

Trying not to react to this disappointment, Mina brought her attention back to the group, but they weren’t looking at her anymore. They were moving aside, making room for a group of people led by a middle-aged woman, her head held high on her long, elegant neck, her black hair veined with dignified white strands.

Mina recognized her. Her name was Xenia, and she and several others of about the same age were always seated closest to the high table, many of them on the king’s council.

Xenia’s left eyebrow went up in a perfect arch, and her lips curled into an amused but cold smile. “What a strange day this is,” she said, loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Our beautiful princess is making her first court appearance, and here we all are gathered around a southern girl none of us even know. I should think the king would resent such an insult to his daughter.”

She turned and left, taking the crowd with her. Some simply walked away, but several others took the trouble to shoot Mina a withering glance first.

Why should these people make me feel ashamed of my home? Mina thought. When had they earned the right to do so? For all their disdain toward southerners, they were no different from the frightened villagers at home, whispering and throwing rocks at her ankles when she wasn’t looking. Their reasons for hating her were different, but the sharp pain of their rejection felt exactly the same. She glanced at the king, and she instantly regretted it—he was staring at her, witnessing her sudden disgrace with a deep frown.

To be humiliated was one thing, but for him to see it—Mina couldn’t help herself. She retreated as fast as she could without breaking into a run. She knew that to leave now would be a sign of defeat, but she couldn’t bear to stay and be sneered at while her plans for the future dissolved in an instant.

She was nearly out of the garden when she heard a voice call, “Wait!” and then a strong hand took hold of her arm. When she turned to confront her latest tormentor, she let out a small cry of surprise—it was King Nicholas.

Just as she had imagined, the crowd had parted to form a path between her and the king’s pavilion, but instead of Mina going to him, he had come to her. They were all watching with interest, waiting to see what the king would do.

Nicholas followed Mina’s gaze to the observing crowd, and he gave an exasperated sigh. He let go of Mina’s arm and offered his own. “Walk with me,” he said, and Mina took his arm at once, hardly knowing what she was doing.

The king set a leisurely pace away from the garden—a simple stroll rather than the escape Mina had been making. Mina clung to his arm, thinking furiously. She didn’t know what to do, who to be—what was his purpose in following her? Why was he leading her away? Was he trying to help her, or did he want to tell her personally never to attend any public functions ever again?

Finally, he said without looking at her, “I know who you are. You’re Gregory’s daughter.”

“My name is Mina,” she said firmly.

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