There was no point hiding anymore. Better she should stand and reveal herself than be caught crouching in fear. Lynet stepped out from behind the altar, trying not to wobble on her cramped legs, and Mina’s face crumpled when she saw her. Lynet knew that Mina was going over everything she had said to the huntsman, everything that Lynet must have heard. And perhaps, like Lynet, she decided she would rather face this moment directly than cringe away and be dragged out into the open.
Before Lynet’s eyes, Mina became the proud queen again, standing tall. She held up an imperious hand to Felix, gesturing for him to stay where he was as she approached Lynet with measured steps. “You’re always snooping and spying, aren’t you, Lynet?” Mina said. Her tone was sharp, but with a fearful waver underneath that she was trying to control. Mina reached out to touch Lynet’s face, and Lynet couldn’t help turning away as Mina brushed her cheek with the backs of her knuckles. “What do I do now?” Mina whispered. “What do I do with you now? You’ve heard so much. You’ve seen—”
Mina drew back, her hand going to her throat, her eyes darting to the huntsman, and at the same time that Lynet realized what the cracks on the huntsman’s neck had reminded her of, she remembered what Mina had said about having a glass heart that her father had given her. She hadn’t understood before, but now she wondered … if one girl could be made of snow and never feel cold, then perhaps …
“You’re like me, aren’t you?” Lynet said. “You’re made of glass.”
Mina shuddered and bowed her head, her hair hiding her face. When she looked up again, she truly did seem like she could be made of glass—cold and sharp, her eyes as unreadable as the huntsman’s. “My heart is made of glass, Lynet, but I’m not like you.” She grabbed Lynet’s wrist. “Did you think you were my father’s only experiment? His only success?” Mina held Lynet’s hand against her chest, over her heart. Lynet waited, too confused and too scared at first to understand what she was feeling—what she wasn’t feeling. There was no heartbeat, no sign of life pounding underneath Mina’s flesh. Lynet gasped, and Mina laughed at her.
“There, do you see? When I was a child, my heart stopped, so my father cut me open and gave me a heart of glass. Do you remember what I told you about your birth, Lynet? About my father’s blood? Blood is what makes you real, but there is no blood in my heart. It serves its function and keeps me alive, but it cannot love, and no one can ever love a heartless thing like me.”
Lynet wrenched her hand away, her own heartbeat wild and frantic. There was so much defiance in Mina’s voice that Lynet almost missed the fear hiding beneath. It was there, though, waiting for Lynet’s next move, her next word. With each second that passed, Lynet knew she had to do or say something if she wanted to prove that she wouldn’t look at Mina differently now, that she wasn’t afraid of her, that she still loved her stepmother. But there was nothing to say, no words capable of breathing life into Mina’s heart, and the truth was that Lynet was afraid. Mina was a mystery to her now; how could she claim to know her stepmother’s heart better than Mina did?
And so she could only watch as the hope on her stepmother’s face slowly died away with each moment of silence.
“Say something,” Mina said, so low that Lynet thought she’d misheard at first. “I can’t stand to see you look at me like that.”
Mina backed away, her arms wrapped around herself. But still Lynet said nothing, like this was a test or a trap, and she was sure to fail—or perhaps she had already failed.
“Say something!” Mina roared, and in that same moment, the stained-glass windows all shattered at once, colorful shards raining down on them both.
Lynet quickly covered her face, but she still felt one of the shards bite at her cheek, and without thinking, she ran for the chapel door to escape the blizzard of glass. As she crossed the threshold, she heard Mina shout, “Go after her!” and then she felt the pounding of the huntsman’s boots under her feet as he followed in pursuit.
Lynet’s heart beat furiously as she ran through the halls. She emerged breathless in the western courtyard, pausing only a moment to gather her bearings. Lynet rarely came here, knowing that it was one of her mother’s favorite places, but she knew that if she climbed over the high wall opposite, she would be outside the castle walls. When she had imagined running away, she hadn’t pictured herself like this, furtive and desperate, empty-handed and afraid. But even in the silence of the night, she could still hear the sound of glass shattering in her ears, and she was more eager than before to run and leave behind the wreckage of her old life.
She had no time to waste, and so in that brief space between one breath and the next, she made her decision and ran for the wall, pulling herself up as quickly as she could. But she wasn’t familiar with this particular wall, and so she placed her foot on a stone that happened to be loose. The stone slipped under her, and Lynet fell backward, waiting for the impact of the snow against her back.
But she never hit the snow—someone caught her.
“I’ve got you,” said the huntsman, his arms wrapped around her waist.
Lynet kicked at him, and he let out a surprised grunt, releasing her. Lynet didn’t look back as she started to scramble for the wall again, but the huntsman was used to chasing far quicker beasts, and so he caught up to her quickly, throwing her to the ground. Felix held her arms down, one knee on either side of her waist.
When Lynet looked up at her attacker, she noticed how clearly his eyes reflected her own face, her own terror. But Lynet refused to let him see her that way. She had to be brave, even if it was only for show.
“Did she tell you to kill me?” she spat at him. “Is that why she sent you after me?” Even as she spoke the words, she was surprised to discover that she wanted to know the answer. Mina had told him not to kill her before, but she might have changed her mind after finding out that Lynet had heard all of her secrets. Had she sent her servant to do what she couldn’t do herself?
“It’ll be easier for her if you’re dead,” the huntsman said.
Lynet wished she could stop trembling. She wished she could look him in the eye and tell him to do it quickly. “So it’s true, then,” she said, but her voice sounded so small, so unsubstantial, like the feel of an eyelash against her cheek. “You’re going to kill me.”
The huntsman’s jaw tensed. “I’m sorry, child,” he said.
Lynet didn’t understand why he sounded so frightened, or why his voice started to break as he called her “child.” When Lynet grimaced from the pain of his tight grip on her arms, he did the same, like a perfect reflection. It reminded her of the night she found him in the garden, the way he had seemed to follow her lead, even imitating her posture. He’s some kind of mirror, Lynet thought, recalling the way Mina had almost made him shatter apart like the glass windows. He feels whatever I feel. If she stared at him with fierce resolve, he would only do the same. She would win nothing from him by pretending to be brave.