When Nadia brushed aside strands of hair as she read, Lynet remembered the way her hand had faintly trembled as it had reached for Lynet’s hair in the tower. The gentle sound of Nadia’s breathing made her remember the way her own breath had come so haltingly afterward, when she stood alone in the room. And when Nadia bit her lip in concentration, Lynet wondered at the sense of disappointment that washed over her, like she was searching for something without even knowing what it was. Sometimes Nadia watched her, too, but she always ducked her head and pretended to have been doing something else whenever their eyes met.
Lynet flipped another useless journal page, shifting restlessly. She wished this shyness between them would pass. Without Nadia, Lynet only had the snow and her own thoughts to keep her company. She had never noticed before how ever-present the snow was here, how impossible it was to get away from it. Only now, when the snow was a constant reminder of her origins, did she wish it would melt away.
Her eyes drifted up to Nadia again, and all at once the thought struck her: I could go with her. I could follow her south, where no one knows me. It would be so much easier to forget the truth in the South—she would never have to see the snow or hear her mother’s name again.
She hardly read another word for the rest of the morning, and she was still imagining their future journey together on her way out when she found her father standing in the courtyard. She was supposed to be with her music tutor, but her father didn’t seem surprised to see her here; in fact, he held his arm out when he saw her.
“Come walk with me,” he said.
She had been trying to avoid her father ever since learning the truth of her birth. She was afraid she would say something to reveal that she knew the secret he was keeping from her, afraid some of her resentment would seep into her voice. But she took his arm and let him lead her through the stone arch that led to the Shadow Garden. “Do you remember how much you used to like it here when you were little? The lake was your favorite place.”
Lynet did remember. She had never understood why no one else would splash in the lake with her. Now she knew—the water was icy cold to anyone but her.
“You have a new favorite place now, though, don’t you?” her father continued.
Was he going to scold her about climbing the juniper tree? She sighed and waited for the worst.
Nicholas stopped and turned to her. “You’ve been skipping all of your lessons so you can visit the surgeon’s workroom nearly every day.”
Lynet gaped at him, trying to decide how best to appease him. A sincere apology? She couldn’t deny it, not when she was supposed to be poorly playing the harp right now. And she couldn’t explain why she was visiting the workroom, without telling him that she knew the truth he was hiding from her.
“I know you’re young,” Nicholas said, “and it’s exciting when someone your age is at Whitespring, but you can’t neglect your duties, especially when your birthday is tomorrow.”
“What’s so special about my birthday this year?” Lynet muttered with some bitterness.
Some of his sternness melted away, and he smiled at her. “I don’t want you to be unprepared,” he said. “You’re not a child anymore, Lynet. You’re going to have to learn to walk in your mother’s footsteps.”
A month ago, she would have bowed her head in defeat and mumbled a halfhearted agreement. Perhaps it was because she now knew that her father had made her so that she could walk in her mother’s footsteps, or perhaps it was because she kept hearing Mina’s voice in her head saying, You don’t have to be like your mother, no matter what anyone says, but this time, Lynet spoke the first words that came to her mind:
“And what if I choose not to?”
He was taken aback by her response, his forehead wrinkling in confusion, but he didn’t seem angry with her, at least. “I only want you to have the life you were meant to have,” he said. “I’ve let you run around freely long enough. Tomorrow is the day you leave all your childhood habits behind. No more climbing, no more avoiding your lessons to do whatever you wish … and less time with Mina.”
“What?” The other terms she had been expecting, but that last one made the exclamation fly from her lips before she could hold it back.
Nicholas took a breath and looked up at the web of branches over their heads. At least he seemed to understand the weight of what he was asking her to do. “When you were a child, you took to Mina at once. You doted on her. I made it very clear to both of you that I didn’t want her to take the place of your mother, or for her to have too much influence over you. And for a while, I thought she understood. But you two have formed … an attachment. When you were a child, I could understand. But now that you’re older, you don’t need a stepmother anymore.” He took her hands in his and gave her an imploring look. “I know you’re at an age when you think you don’t need a father’s guidance, but I hope you still trust and respect my judgment. I’m thinking of your future, Lynet.”
Lynet took measured breaths, willing herself not to cry. “So what would you have me do, just pretend she doesn’t exist?”
“Of course not, but you’ve become too dependent on her. You go see her every night.” He paused, and when he spoke again, he spoke slowly, choosing his words with care. “I know this may be difficult for you to understand now, but as you get older, you won’t always be able to trust Mina to have your best interests at heart. You would be wise to distance yourself a little from her before that happens.”
Lynet thought about how Mina had showed her the chapel, and how honored she had felt at being allowed this glimpse into her stepmother’s world. No more Mina? It was true she wasn’t a child anymore, but that just meant the two of them were becoming something more balanced than stepmother and stepchild—they were becoming sisters, friends, able to confide in each other more than ever before. And now she had to either leave that friendship behind, or else hurt her father by disrespecting his wishes.
She shook her head, the only response she could give to such an impossible situation, and her father sighed. “You’ll understand everything more clearly tonight.”
“Tonight?”
He smiled. “You, Mina, and I are going to meet tonight in my chambers, as soon as the sun goes down. There’s something I want to tell you. Think of it as an early birthday gift.”
Lynet offered a weak smile, but she wasn’t sure she wanted any gift she couldn’t share with Mina. She remained silent as they walked back through the garden together, and then her father followed her through the halls to make sure she was headed to the music room. She would have gone even if he hadn’t followed her—there was nowhere else she was allowed to go.
*
“Ah, there you are,” her father said when she arrived at his rooms at the appointed hour. He gestured for her to sit by the fireplace. But there were only two chairs by the fireplace, and Nicholas had already taken one of them. If Lynet took the other, Mina would have to sit apart.
She chose to kneel down on the floor beside the fire. “Why did you ask us here?”