“Of course, my lord.” Mina tried to keep her voice low—a difficult task, since Lynet was splashing her hands in the freezing lake. Mina had been worried that he would try to avoid her after their tryst in the throne room, but soon afterward, he invited her on another lakeside stroll—with Lynet as chaperone, of course.
“I’d like to invite you to dine with me tomorrow night, somewhere more private than the Great Hall.”
Mina was glad he wasn’t watching her; she couldn’t help a satisfied smile. “I’d be honored, my lord.”
He finally turned to her. “I don’t want you to be honored. I want you to be pleased.” His voice was gruff, but from the flicker of worry in his eye, he seemed genuinely concerned.
Now Mina allowed him to see her smile. “I’d be pleased, then. I … I enjoy our time together.”
“As do I,” he said. “And so does—”
But he didn’t need to finish the sentence: his eyes went straight to Lynet, who was now nearly waist-deep in the lake.
“Lynet!” he called. “Don’t go so far into the water!”
Lynet stared at him for a moment, and then she went right back to splashing in the lake.
“Lynet, I won’t ask again.”
This time, Lynet ignored her father completely.
Nicholas sighed. “She’s always testing her limits.” He went to retrieve his daughter, lifting her from the lakeside and carrying her away.
Lynet didn’t respond well; she started thrashing like an angry cat, kicking her feet in protest as she tore at her own hair.
Mina watched this entire display with fascination. Would Nicholas scold her for her disobedience? Would he punish her in front of Mina, or would he wait until later? What form would his anger at his daughter take?
But Nicholas just laughed at her tantrum. It was the first time Mina remembered ever hearing him laugh, making it all the more unexpected. “My little bird is trying to fly away,” he said, tightening his hold on Lynet playfully, “but I know she wouldn’t want to make her father sad. Isn’t that right?”
His words seemed to placate her, or maybe she was just exhausted from fighting so hard. She shook her head.
“Well, then she should do what her father says. But first, she should give him a kiss.” He gave her his cheek, and Lynet pressed her lips against it noisily.
Mina observed them with a growing resentment she didn’t understand. She hadn’t wanted to see Lynet punished, exactly, but now she kept wondering why. Why wasn’t he punishing her, when other fathers would? Why did Lynet deserve to have that luxury when so many others didn’t? But there was no reason; there was only Lynet’s squeal of delight and her father’s look of devotion as he set her down.
“I think it’s time for you to go back inside anyway,” he said to Lynet. “I have to meet with the council shortly.”
Lynet clutched her father’s leg and shook her head. “Stay.”
“I can’t stay, and so neither can you,” he said fondly, ruffling her hair.
“Mina can stay.”
Father and daughter both looked at Mina at the same time, one uncertain, the other hopeful. Mina didn’t know how to answer—she didn’t want Nicholas to think she was overstepping her bounds, but if he decided to trust her with Lynet’s care, that would speak a great deal to his opinion of her. “Only if you’d allow it, my lord,” she said. “I’d be happy to watch over her for a little longer and see her to her room.” The words slipped out so easily that she didn’t even wonder if they were true.
Nicholas deliberated briefly, then nodded. “All right, Lynet, you can play a little longer, and then Mina will take you back inside.” As Lynet let out a high-pitched cheer and ran toward the trees, stumbling over her small feet, Nicholas said to Mina, “Not much longer, though. I don’t want her to tire herself.”
Mina didn’t say that Lynet seemed to have enough energy to play for hours. “I’ll watch over her very carefully, my lord.”
“I must go now,” Nicholas said. “But I’ll send someone for you tomorrow evening.”
Yes, that was right—he had invited her to see him the next evening. “Until tomorrow, then, my lord,” she said.
“You called me Nicholas last time we spoke,” he said softly. “I wish you would do so again.”
“Until tomorrow, Nicholas,” Mina murmured.
He watched her a moment longer, and then he stepped toward her and said, “I’m looking forward to tomorrow.”
There was no foresight or guile when Mina smiled—she simply smiled because his words had made her happy. And even when he left, she was still happy. He had invited her to see him, not because Lynet had asked or because he felt duty-bound, but because he wanted to see her. He wanted her.
Mina wandered closer to the garden to keep better watch over Lynet, who was running in circles around the trees and shouting to some invisible friend or enemy, Mina wasn’t sure which.
Mina was tense, her arms crossed, ears ringing from Lynet’s shouting. Now that Nicholas was gone, she had no reason to pretend to herself that she wanted to watch over a spoiled child whose father never punished her for anything. How nice it must be for Lynet to live in a world where father was only ever a happy word, to play at fighting imaginary threats, because she had never known any real ones.
And just as she was thinking that it was only a matter of time before Lynet’s perfect world shattered, she saw Lynet trip over one of the tree’s roots and tumble to the ground.
Mina rushed toward her at once, hoping that Lynet hadn’t hurt herself in a way that would be apparent to her father. She kept waiting to hear Lynet cry or scream, but Lynet was silent, hugging her right leg close to her. “Let me see, Lynet,” Mina said, and Lynet stuck her leg out to show her the small scrape on her knee from the tree root. Her face was pinched, her lips quivering, but she still didn’t cry or make any sound. Mina didn’t understand it—she’d thought Lynet would be wailing by now, running to her father to fix all her problems—
And then she realized—if Nicholas knew about this mishap, he probably wouldn’t allow her to play outside again for at least a week. Lynet must have already learned this during her few short years, and so she had trained herself not to cry or shout or show pain at all. Mina had come to consider Lynet a pampered, fragile creature, but now she remembered the way she had first found her, perched up in a tree, the king not there to keep her in check. Maybe Mina had been right to give her the name “wolf cub.” Maybe Lynet was more resilient than she looked.
“Don’t worry, Lynet,” Mina said gently. “I won’t tell your father about this if you don’t want me to.” That was an instinct Mina could understand, something she could share with Lynet at last.
Lynet seemed to relax now. She didn’t flinch when Mina cleaned her knee with snow, and when Mina suggested it was time to go back inside, she hopped to her feet and put her small hand in Mina’s.
The two of them walked at a child’s pace back to the courtyard. Lynet rambled on, and Mina tried to follow her sudden changes in topic and her mumbled words. Among other things, Mina learned that Lynet hated wearing shoes and that one of her teeth was loose. But Mina was glad she had agreed to stay with her. Something about Lynet’s carefree youth made Whitespring seem a little less dour and gloomy.