Mina’s eyes kept shifting to the crown, but she forced herself to turn away from it and look only at Lynet. “Tell me what?”
Lynet almost seemed a little girl again, biting her lip as she prepared herself to speak. “I never wanted to be queen until I saw how much good you had done for the South and knew that with my powers, I could do the same for the North,” she said in a rush. “But that doesn’t mean I want to neglect the South again. This kingdom is broken, and I can’t fix it alone.” She was gaining confidence in herself, her words becoming firmer, a spark of fire in her eyes. “Do you understand what I mean now? The North needs me, but the South needs you. This kingdom needs us both.”
No, Mina didn’t understand. She was too busy watching her stepdaughter, the girl who had peered at her from a tree so long ago, transform herself into a queen, assured and clear in her purpose. “What are you saying, Lynet? We can’t both be queens.”
Lynet shook her head, her excitement growing. “I know that, but we can’t keep doing things the same way as before—it hasn’t helped anyone. We have to tear the old way down, so we can build something new. I’m creating a new position—a governor to rule the South in my stead, someone who understands what the South needs and who will work with me to unite the kingdom. And I’m naming you as the first governor of the South.”
Mina was finally beginning to understand, to believe. She had always thought that one of them would have to lose, but Lynet was offering her a different kind of victory. For years, she had depended on the crown to define herself and give her the love she so craved, but now … now she could rebuild herself even as she rebuilt the South. “I could still finish the Summer Castle.…” she murmured. The fondest dream of her childhood, to live in the Summer Castle with its magnificent gold domes, would come true.
Mina’s eyes stung and she turned away. She still wasn’t used to these pangs of the heart that brought tears to her eyes. Once, she’d thought she couldn’t cry at all, and now it seemed she couldn’t stop. She took in the mosaics on the wall, the changing seasons that she had missed so much since coming north. Home. I’m going home.
She turned back to Lynet, who was waiting patiently for Mina to recompose herself. “Do you accept the position, then?” she asked with a growing smile.
We still have so much to do together, Lynet had said to her when she’d been bleeding to death in the snow. And she was right—there was more to be done. Mina could never earn back the devoted worship that Lynet had felt for her as a child, but Lynet wasn’t a child anymore, and for the first time since she’d realized how quickly Lynet was growing, Mina believed that they could build something new, something even stronger than before. It would take time, but she had time now. She had more time than she’d ever had in her life.
Mina nodded, her voice only slightly trembling as she said, “Yes, I gladly accept.”
*
Early the next morning, greeted by freshly falling snow, Lynet walked down to the lake where Sybil’s statue had once been. She had to admit that the grounds already seemed cheerier without the weeping statue overlooking them.
She had moved to a new set of rooms now that she was queen. Not Mina’s, of course—those would remain for her whenever she chose to visit Whitespring. But the new rooms were larger than her old ones, and she couldn’t help feeling small when she stood in the middle of them, surrounded by so much space, so many expectations.
But she had become queen without dying, without transforming into her mother, without losing her sense of self. She had felt the crown’s weight on her head without fearing that it would break her neck. There was so much to be done, and she was relieved Mina had accepted the position of governor. Lynet was sure they could work wonders together—they already had.
“It’s strange not to see Sybil there anymore,” Nadia said from behind her.
Lynet had left Nadia a note last night to meet her here in the morning. She had left a note for Mina, too, but she had wanted to talk to Nadia first. Lynet felt the familiar pull as she turned to Nadia, the link between them strong and clear now. But she couldn’t forget the reason she had called Nadia here, or ignore the worry that came with it.
“Come walk with me,” Lynet said.
They walked together along the edge of the lake, their hands finding each other, fingers entangling. These casual touches weren’t heavy with meaning, as they had been before, but Lynet found an entirely different kind of pleasure in the lightness of them, the ease with which she could lean in and brush her lips against Nadia’s cheek.
At the coronation banquet last night, Lynet had placed Mina to her right, Nadia to her left, and no one had said a word to oppose her. Lynet knew the court was still too amazed that she was alive to find fault with her now, but she was sure she would hear the Pigeons cluck in disapproval eventually—because Nadia was a commoner, or because they still didn’t like Mina, or for whatever reason they chose. Lynet didn’t care; she knew now that she was strong enough to fight for the people who were important to her, and so she was ready for that day, should it ever come.
But fighting for the people she cared about didn’t always mean keeping them. Her hand tightened around Nadia’s.
“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” Nadia said quietly.
Lynet halted, her hand slipping away. “I want to ask you something, and I want you to answer me honestly,” she said. “Do you promise?”
Nadia smiled. “Do you still trust my promises?”
“I’m serious,” Lynet said firmly.
Her smile faded away, and she said, “Yes, I promise,” giving the words a special weight.
“I’ve been thinking of ways to bring more progress to the North, not just short-term relief from the snow, but something lasting,” Lynet said. She had been so scared of being a queen, but right now being a queen was easier than being Lynet. Her voice was firm, her stance solid, and she wondered if she looked like Mina. “One of my plans is to build a school here, something small at first, but that could eventually mirror the university in the South—”
“Lynet, that’s a wonderful idea!” Nadia said, her face blooming with excitement. Snow was falling on her loosely braided hair and on her collarbone, and Lynet’s fingers itched to brush it away, looking for any excuse to touch her. It would be so easy to pretend she didn’t have anything more to say.