And so, though she was solemn, she was always composed, and she tried to distract herself from the sight of Lynet’s casket—so small and confining for a girl who loved to be under the open sky—by designing the Summer Castle in her head. She had lost her husband and her stepdaughter, but she still had her plans for the South.
Her first act as queen was to resume the Summer Castle’s construction. She knew now why Nicholas wanted her to give up her project—even then, he must have been planning to give the South to Lynet—and so she knew that their deaths were the only reason she could continue with it now. But those thoughts troubled her when she dwelled too deeply on them, and so whenever they came, she devoted herself even more to the castle’s completion. When she wasn’t attending council meetings, she was poring over construction plans brought for her approval, overseeing every step.
Mina had wanted to believe that the court’s attitude toward her would change. They had chosen her now, after all—chosen her as their queen rather than having to accept her only because the king had married her. And Mina was prepared to make an effort as well. She held back at the council meetings and let Xenia lead, knowing that if she were too aggressive from the start, they would all resent her for it. And so as each day passed, she slowly became nothing more than an attractive figurehead. Mina still had complete control over the South, but the council made its decisions on how to run Whitespring or how to settle grievances between its residents, and Mina said nothing. The only time she tried to disagree on some minor matter, Xenia had gently reminded her that the council had put Mina on the throne.
There was only one way she could think to win the North to her side, one act that would distinguish her reign beyond all others. If she could break Sybil’s curse, then surely they would love her for it.
“I want to take down the statue of Sybil,” she announced the next day to her council. She had suggested to Nicholas once that the answer to breaking the curse might have something to do with that statue over the lake, and even now she thought there could be some truth to it. After all, no one even knew when the statue had been built—it seemed to have appeared on its own sometime after Sybil’s death.
As soon as she’d spoken the words, the entire council started clucking. “That would be the same as tearing down Whitespring itself,” Xenia said, looking at her with a mixture of outrage and incredulity.
Mina waited with her arms folded on the table until they had quieted down, and then she said, “I know I don’t always understand your northern traditions, but in this case, that may be a virtue. Over the years I’ve lived at Whitespring, I’ve wondered if Sybil’s curse was somehow connected to her statue. If we tear it down, and lessen her power over Whitespring, perhaps the curse will lose its power as well.” She turned to Xenia with an innocent smile, the kind she used to wear for Nicholas. “But of course, I would want the approval of my chief adviser in this matter.” And so will the rest of the council, she thought. She only had to convince Xenia, and the others would follow without protest. “It would be a triumph for this council if we found a way to end the curse.”
Xenia silently deliberated while staring out the window in the direction of the statue. Mina was sure she would agree—if tearing down the statue did end the curse, then Xenia would share in the glory, and if the attempt failed, she could simply blame that failure on Mina.
“I think the idea has merit,” Xenia said quietly. “That statue is a reminder of Sybil’s grief, as is the curse. Perhaps one won’t exist without the other.”
One by one, the other Pigeons all agreed, and Mina thanked them for their cooperation. The statue would come down, and then at least one gloomy shadow would lift from Whitespring.
Mina ordered her guards to take down the statue a few days later. She looked out into the garden from her window as they chipped away at the statue’s base and threw rope around Queen Sybil’s neck. Word had spread that the statue’s removal might lift the curse, and so a crowd of people were gathered in the garden, waiting even now for the first signs of spring.
When the last pieces of the statue had tumbled into the lake, nothing had changed, except that there was now a blank square of soil that would soon be covered in snow. Or maybe not, Mina told herself. Maybe the change would be gradual, the snow melting a little at a time.
But the snow came down heavily over the following week, and soon Mina had to admit that she had failed. When she tried to address the council again, Xenia had coldly told her that they didn’t currently need a southerner’s perspective on northern matters. Mina’s face burned with shame, and she didn’t speak for the rest of the meeting, retreating again to thoughts of the Summer Castle.
Let the Pigeons have Whitespring, she thought. She would have something better in the end.
* * *
Late that night she found herself in the throne room. She couldn’t remember making the decision to come here, but here she was, like a sleepwalker who had only woken now, surprised to be looking around at the glass mosaic tiles on the walls. Felix had followed her, as her personal guard, but he had said nothing as he accompanied her, carrying a candelabra that lit up the vast, dark room.
She had come to this moment the same way, one step and then another, not knowing where she was going, where her path was taking her, until suddenly she was here, shivering and alone, her husband and stepdaughter dead, ruling over a court of people who barely tolerated her. She remembered her first night at the banquet, a girl dreaming of being a queen, because then she would be loved. If only she could marry the king, she had thought, if only she could remain queen, if only she could sit on that throne, then she would have everything she wanted.… And what was next? What lie would she tell herself now to make her believe she was still only one step away from the love she craved?
But no, if she gave in to regret now, then Lynet had come to hate her—Lynet had died—for absolutely nothing. She still had the South, didn’t she? The people there were happy she was their queen.
And then, as she stared at the two thrones at the end of the room, the idea came to her—as soon as the Summer Castle was finished enough to be habitable, she could hold court there instead, among people who loved her and would protect her claim to the throne. She’d considered the idea of moving court south before, but not seriously, knowing that Nicholas would never have agreed to it. But now Nicholas was gone.…
Maybe that was why she had come here tonight—to remember what she was still fighting for.
In the wavering light of the candles, the glass mosaics of the four seasons shimmered. “Keep away from the walls,” she said to Felix. Then Mina held out her hands, feeling each piece of glass as though they were embedded in her skin, concentrated, and pulled.
The glass tiles all fell to the floor, glittering in the light. Mina concentrated again, and there was enough glass around her that she felt only the slightest twinge in her chest as each piece of the mosaic transformed into a grown man or woman wearing the finely made clothing of a nobleperson. A court of glass, she thought.
The members of Mina’s new court all sank to their knees, kneeling to Mina with their heads bowed. In the center of the throne room, surrounded and protected by her own creations, Mina felt something close to safe and loved, and she reached for Felix’s hand, because he was the closest to human of all of them. He took her hand, and he, too, went down on one knee, holding her hand to his forehead.