Not now, Mina thought. Not anymore. Nothing new ever happened in Whitespring.
What happened now that it was all over? Mina had won, and here was her victory, here in the mirror: a miserable queen, a hollow reflection. Mina wished she could finish her father’s work and replace each piece of her with a shard from her mirror. First her bones and then her flesh, until she became a living mirror, always reflecting out, but never in, so no one would see that she was once again carved out and empty, her heart dying with Lynet.
She couldn’t stand to look at herself anymore—her disheveled hair, her red eyes, her skin no longer smooth but lined with grief. She took up the little stool that sat beside the mirror and with one swing smashed it into the glass. The mirror cracked, and Mina swung again, until pieces of glass were falling like snow.
“What are you doing?”
His body was warped in the broken mirror, but she knew her father’s voice.
“Why is there broken glass everywhere? Did you do this?” She felt his heavy step reverberate underneath her, and without thinking, she pried one of the loose shards from the mirror frame, not caring when it cut her hand.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “What’s the matter with you? I’ve never seen you so careless before.”
“Because I have nothing to care about anymore,” Mina said, wrenching herself out of his grasp. “Isn’t that what you always wanted? For me not to care about anything or anyone? I thought you’d be proud.”
He waved at her with a dismissive gesture. “I don’t have time for this. Where is the surgeon? She’s not in her workroom and she was supposed to—I can’t find her anywhere.”
“How should I know?” Mina said. “I hope she’s gone.”
He frowned at that, shaking his head in confusion. “And you put the corpse in the crypt?”
Mina narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Why would you ask me that?”
Did he hesitate before answering, or did Mina imagine it? If he did hesitate, it was only for a moment. “You were so distressed before. I have to make sure you were thinking clearly enough to get rid of the corpse.”
“Stop calling her that,” Mina snapped. Her grip tightened around the glass in her hand, and she felt a trickle of blood spill from between her fingers.
“I don’t have time for your hysterics,” he said. “Clean yourself up. If you show any sign of weakness now, you’ll be deposed before that girl’s corpse is cold.” He chuckled as he turned away. “But then, I suppose it was cold from the start.”
Mina started to fling the piece of glass at his head, but then he let out a sharp cry, clutching his chest with one hand while reaching for the doorway with the other. Mina watched him but made no move to help. “What’s the matter?” she said, her voice flat. “A weak heart?”
He chuckled feebly. “Yes, Mina, exactly that.” He muttered something under his breath—Mina thought it sounded like “But not for much longer”—and then he was gone.
Her father was right about one thing. If she faltered now, or even showed up at the Great Hall in disarray—her eyes red from weeping, her hand red with blood—not even her glass soldiers would be strong enough to keep her on the throne. And she had to stay on the throne—what else did she have now, except her dreams for the South? If she lost her crown, there was nothing left. She would have to follow Lynet to the crypt.
Why did he ask if Lynet was in the crypt? Mina wondered, still questioning that moment of hesitation before he answered. If he had been lying, then why? What could he possibly want from Lynet now? She remembered he had spoken of Lynet this way, like she was just a dead body, when he had first given her the poison—When she’s dead, bring the body back to Whitespring, and I’ll dispose of it.
Why the insistence that she bring the body back to Whitespring? What did he want from Lynet that he could only take from her now that she was dead?
He had been looking for the surgeon—
What’s the matter? A weak heart?
Exactly that … but not for much longer.
Mina let out a low groan. She should have known. She should have sensed it at once—when her heart had weakened as a child, Gregory had replaced it. He’d told her once that creating Lynet had drained his heart, and so now he planned to take Lynet’s—to reclaim the life and the magic that he had given to her. He would open Lynet up and leave her heartless, just as he had done to Mina.
I won’t allow it, Mina promised herself, her hand tightening around the glass. All the thwarted love that had collected in her heart, stagnating there for years without any release, came to life now, transforming into something as sharp and dangerous as the piece of glass in her hand.
Her hair was still a tangled mess. There was blood on her hands and skirt. Her face was bare and stained with tears.
It didn’t matter. She had been too late before, but not this time. She clutched her weapon and ran from the room to find her father.
Felix was beside her in an instant, and she wondered if he had been waiting outside her rooms since returning from the crypt in case she called for him. “Mina, what’s the matter?” he asked as he caught up with her quickly. His eyes went straight to the blood on her hand.
She stopped and reached for him with her free hand, pulling him toward her by the fabric of his shirt. “I need you to take the guards—all of them—and stand watch outside the crypt. Don’t let anyone pass through the door, not even me.”
“But why—”
“Go the back way, from the servants’ door, not through the courtyard. I don’t want my father to see you. Please, Felix.”
He heard the note of panic in her voice, and he nodded, reassuring her that he would do exactly as she asked.
When he was gone, Mina continued down the hall, turning a corner and going to a window that looked out on the courtyard. Yes, there he was—Gregory was just stepping out into the courtyard, taking slow, labored steps. From the window, in the light of the early morning, he looked so small, and she was struck again by how feeble he appeared when he wasn’t looming over her, one hand gripping her by the wrist. She always felt like a child again in those moments, and so she had never believed that she could break that grip—never thought she could escape him, even if she tried. But she wasn’t a child anymore, and now, for Lynet’s sake, she had to believe that she was capable of stopping him.
With a fresh surge of determination, she raced down to the courtyard.
“Father!” she called, hurrying across the snow to block his path. She didn’t care that he wasn’t alone, that there were people watching.
He looked at her disheveled appearance in horror, and she heard a nearby gasp, probably at the trail of blood she was leaving behind. “Go back inside,” Gregory said in a frantic whisper. “What are you doing?”