Why hadn’t her father asked for Mina’s blessing before making this decision? But of course he wouldn’t—she never knew them to agree about anything.
“You would do this?” Mina said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I will do anything that’s best for my daughter,” Nicholas said, looking at his wife for the first time since he’d begun his announcement. “And needless to say, I will not allow you to make her decisions or rule through her. Lynet is old enough not to need you anymore.”
“And have you considered that Lynet may not want to accept your offer?”
The two of them both looked down at Lynet, who tried not to cower under the eyes of the two people she cared about most. Nicholas was looking at her in disbelief, clearly confused by the suggestion that Lynet wouldn’t want to take such an important step toward becoming queen. And Mina—Mina was simply waiting for Lynet to tell her father the truth.
Nicholas was the first to look away. “Don’t speak for her. If Lynet has any complaints, she’ll speak for herself.”
“Will she?” Mina said softly, her eyes still on Lynet.
Lynet was growing light-headed, too warm from sitting in front of the fire, and even though she shut her eyes tight, she could still see them both watching her, waiting for her to say something. No matter what she said, she would have to hurt one of them. She could already see the look on her father’s face, the slow realization that his daughter wasn’t the person he thought she was. She would never be able to make him understand, but Mina—Mina would understand. Mina could be reasoned with. Even if she upset Mina now, Lynet could explain herself later, and she knew that Mina would forgive her. She couldn’t believe the same of her father.
Lynet shook her head. “I don’t have anything to say.”
“That settles it, then,” Nicholas said. “I’ll make the announcement at your birthday feast.”
There was a long pause before Lynet dared to open her eyes, keeping her head down as she peered up at her stepmother. Mina wasn’t looking at her anymore, but Lynet could feel her disappointment nonetheless; she could feel it in the fire’s punishing heat.
“And when Lynet takes the South, what will I do?” Mina said.
Nicholas shrugged. “You’ll still be queen in name.”
“The South is mine, Nicholas.”
“It was never yours to keep.” He sighed and rubbed at his forehead. “Please understand that this is not a personal insult to you—”
She laughed dryly. “No? Even when you accused me of trying to rule through her? Or are you just afraid she’ll become too much like me and not enough like her mother?”
Nicholas rose from his seat in one movement, but Mina remained still, watching him defiantly.
“Lynet, you can leave now. I want to speak to your stepmother alone.”
Lynet stood, looking to Mina uncertainly. She was sure that Mina would understand and forgive her, but she still longed for some reassurance.
But Mina only looked at her coldly and said, “Go, Lynet. I don’t need you to protect me.”
Lynet heeded her stepmother’s command and hurried out of the room.
12
MINA
Mina walked by the lake with Nicholas and Lynet nearly every day, but she felt she was making little progress with the king. They would stroll leisurely while Lynet ran ahead, but the king’s worried eyes seldom left his daughter, and their conversations were light and impersonal.
The real challenge, Mina thought, would be to find a way to approach Nicholas alone. As long as Lynet was there to distract him away from her, Mina knew they would never move beyond this casual friendship.
She asked Felix to track the king’s movements, to watch for those rare moments when the king was alone. Her chance came at last one morning when she heard a tap at her window. Felix was standing outside, and Mina quickly shut her door before opening the window. “You shouldn’t be here,” she hissed at him in a whisper.
“The western courtyard,” Felix whispered back. “He’s there now. Alone.”
Mina gripped the window frame to calm herself. The king was alone in the western courtyard—exactly where Mina had first met him. She wasn’t sentimental, but she still thought the coincidence boded well for her. “Thank you, Felix,” she said. “I’ll meet you tonight. Don’t linger here.”
Felix didn’t move, but Mina didn’t have time to waste. “Go!” she said again, and this time he obeyed.
Nicholas was sitting on the fountain ledge when Mina arrived at the western courtyard.
“My lord?” Mina said, forcing a note of surprise in her voice.
He tensed at the intrusion, but when he saw Mina, he managed to smile a little.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” she said.
He stood to greet her. “Not at all. When I’m alone, my thoughts overwhelm me.”
“Then I’ll have to push them back for you,” Mina said, her head bowed. That was one of the tricks she’d learned from their walks together, to speak bold words in a demure manner. Pointing your chin downward encouraged a man to lift it up again. Stumbling while walking invited him to give you his arm. Faltering over words made him listen more closely, his eyes drawn to your lips. Weakness was more enticing than any seduction.
“I must bore you with all my sad talk.”
“Not at all. I want to understand. There must be no end of worries for a king, especially without a queen to share them.”
“Even after so many years, I—Mina, are you cold? You’re shivering.” He removed the heavy cloak he was wearing and draped it around her, as she’d hoped he would. Mina kept her head down as he performed his act of gallantry, but as he drew the cloak tight around her neck, she lifted her chin and looked him in the eye. She’d expected him to step back from her, but instead, he remained staring down at her upturned face for another few seconds before letting out a shaky breath and moving away.
That was another trick, to shiver with cold until he noticed. That was the easiest one of all, since she hardly had to fake it.
“I should take you inside, if you’re cold,” Nicholas said.
“No!” Once he escorted her inside, he’d leave, and she didn’t know when she’d have a chance to be alone with him again. “No,” she repeated. “I’ll be just as cold inside, and I needed a change of scenery.”
“A change of scenery, hmm?” he said. “I wouldn’t want you to grow bored of Whitespring.” He fell silent, and then he held out his hand to her. “Come with me. I’ll give you a change of scenery.”
Delighted—but careful not to seem too delighted—Mina took his hand. He led her toward the Hall, but then turned down a corridor she hadn’t visited before, to a large set of closed doors. He opened one enough to let her in.
Mina gave an involuntary gasp when she walked into the room—the throne room, she realized, when she saw two ornate chairs at the opposite end of the room. The cross-vaulted ceilings high above her made her think of a giant rib cage, the click of her shoes on the stone floor echoing against it like a heartbeat. A banner of colorful tiles stretched around the walls; it was a mosaic of the four seasons, a reminder of something long lost. Mina walked in awe until she came to the two grand chairs waiting on a dais at the end of the room. They were identical, carved from the same dark wood.