Mina pushed herself up from the ground with enormous effort and staggered toward her before landing on her knees again at Lynet’s feet. “You’re alive,” she was muttering, her hands clutching at the hem of Lynet’s dress. “This is real. You’re alive.” She turned her face up in some kind of pained rapture. Her eyes were red and glistening, not black and empty as they had been in the tower—and Lynet was beginning to doubt that the woman in the tower had really been Mina at all. “I’m ready now,” Mina said. “I’m ready to die.”
Even in her shock, Lynet had managed to keep hold of the dagger, and she looked up now to see nearly the entire court watching. They were leaning forward eagerly, waiting for their newly resurrected princess to slay her usurper and take her rightful place on her mother’s throne. This was an era they would all willingly forget, and perhaps one day, years and years from now, Lynet would start to forget some of the details too. She would forget that she had loved her stepmother, forget the nights they had spent in front of the mirror, sharing secrets. She would forget that her father had tried to push Mina away from her, forget the part that Gregory had played and that it was probably his blood on Mina’s hands. She would forget the way Mina looked now. All she would remember was the story that would be passed down by those watching: the cruel stepmother, and the wronged princess who had returned from the dead to strike her down and take back what was hers.
She didn’t want their story to end this way. And more than that, she knew she had the power to change it. They both had the power to change it. She remembered what Mina had told her once, and those words now resounded in her mind, in her bones, in every heartbeat: You’ll find something that’s yours alone. And when you do, don’t let anyone take it from you.
She thought she heard someone calling her name behind her, but she ignored it, ignored everyone who wanted to take Mina away from her. Lynet let out a breath, and in that same moment, all the snow soldiers behind her fell apart, dissolving back into snow that whirled around her and Mina both, shielding them from the court’s hungry view. The dagger fell from her hands and she dropped to her knees beside Mina, taking her stepmother in her arms.
They clutched at each other, Lynet allowing herself a moment to cry into her stepmother’s shoulder, but she could feel Mina’s body shaking with pain, and she knew she didn’t have time to lose. She gently drew Mina away but kept her hands on Mina’s shoulders to help her stay upright. “Mina, what happened to you? Did Gregory wound you?”
Mina wrapped her arms around her own waist and let out a pained laugh as she struggled not to double over. “He cracked open my heart. I can feel it splitting open. I’m dying. There’s nothing you can do now.… And Lynet … please don’t remember me too harshly, if you can help it.”
Lynet thought frantically. Gregory’s powers were her own, after all, and she wondered if she could fix what he had broken—but she had power only over snow, not glass.
Mina had power over glass.
“Mina, listen to me,” Lynet said, worried at the deathly hue Mina’s skin was taking. “You can command your own heart to heal itself. It’s just glass, isn’t it? You can fix it yourself.”
Mina was shaking her head. “Too tired to fight anymore, too weak…” She started to wobble, so Lynet gathered Mina in her arms, resting Mina’s head against her shoulder.
“Your father is dead now,” Lynet said. “He has no more power here. Lean on me if you feel weak, but please, please, just try.”
“Lynet…” Mina rasped. Her tears soaked through Lynet’s dress, hot against her shoulder. “Lynet, I love you. All this time … all this time, I loved you, and I couldn’t see it. Thank you for helping me see it.”
Lynet let out a sob as she held Mina tighter. Her stepmother—her fierce, unbreakable stepmother—now felt so small and frail in her arms. “I love you too,” she said. “You’ve always given me strength—let me do the same for you now. We still have so much to do together. Please don’t give up.”
With great effort, Mina pushed herself out of Lynet’s arms and tried to sit up. She wavered a bit, and so Lynet gave Mina her arm to help hold herself up. Mina took a breath and closed her eyes.
Lynet wished she could do more, but she knew that only Mina could heal herself. All Lynet could do was lend her arm when Mina started to falter, and continue to shield them both from view with the curtain of snow falling around them. She wouldn’t let anyone take Mina from her now.
Mina concentrated, and every time she started to double over, Lynet helped to keep her upright. When Mina let out a low moan of pain, Lynet stroked her hair and murmured comforting words, telling her she would be all right, that she just had to keep fighting a little while longer.
Mina’s breathing grew heavier, and fresh beads of sweat formed on her skin. “I think it’s happening,” she managed to gasp. “I can feel it happening.” Her hand tightened on Lynet’s arm, and then she cried out, clutching her chest as her hair hid her face.
“Mina!” Lynet cried, her skin clammy with fear. She thought of her father on his deathbed, how scared she had been to see him there—but now she was too scared to look away or even blink, in case Mina would be dead before she could open her eyes again. “Mina, please, are you—”
But when Mina looked up, her skin was quickly regaining its normal color. “I did it,” she breathed. “I can feel it. It’s still … it won’t beat, but it’s … it’s whole, at least.”
“I knew it,” Lynet said, breathless with relief. “I knew you could do it.”
Mina took Lynet’s face in her hands. “But you,” she said, her voice still ragged, “how are you here at all? How are you alive?”
Lynet didn’t answer. She didn’t want explanations, yet. She only wanted to throw her arms around her stepmother’s neck, to bury her face in her stepmother’s shoulder, and to stay here behind the snow shield for a little while longer, in a separate world where nothing could tear them apart again.
36
Normally a coronation at Whitespring would have been a grand, public affair, but Mina had insisted that Lynet be crowned as soon as possible, and so it was only a small crowd that gathered in the castle’s throne room.
Mina was not part of the crowd. She stood at the front of the room, before the two empty thrones, with a golden crown in her hands. That was the tradition at Whitespring—the person who performed the coronation was always a noblewoman who had been designated as the spirit of Queen Sybil, passing the crown to the next rightful ruler. Lynet had cautiously asked Mina if she would play the role of Sybil today, and Mina had agreed at once—she wouldn’t have allowed anyone else to crown Lynet as queen. It was her crown to give, after all.