Mina gently let Lynet’s body lie on the floor, still and unmoving, and rose in an attempt to recover some sense of dignity in front of this young woman. Nadia wasn’t looking at her, though; her eyes remained on Lynet, her mouth hanging open as she reached for the doorway to steady herself. There wasn’t time for her regret, though. “Has this poison definitely killed her? She put on the bracelet just a few minutes ago. Is there any chance she’s still alive?” Mina said.
Nadia shook her head, still staring at Lynet.
“Just come here,” Mina ordered, raising her voice. “I’m sure you’ve seen plenty of corpses before.”
Nadia swallowed and nodded, coming to kneel beside Lynet and check for some faint pulse that Mina had missed. Mina waited, hardly breathing, until the surgeon lifted her head and gave Mina her answer without even speaking.
Tears filled Mina’s eyes, and she turned aside, not wanting the surgeon to see her cry. “I don’t understand why you’re so upset,” Mina said. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you? You didn’t care if Lynet had to die for it.”
“You’re right,” the girl said, her voice laced with disdain. “We both have exactly what we wanted, my lady.”
Mina ignored her, turning now to Felix, who was waiting at the door. “Take her down to the crypt,” she told him for the second time. “Don’t let anyone see you.” To the surgeon, she said, “You’re dismissed.”
After one last hesitant look at Lynet, the surgeon left, but Felix remained. He started toward Mina, but she held up a hand to stop him. She didn’t deserve to be comforted when Lynet was dead. She looked up at the patches in the roof, now letting in the cool light of dawn. How could Mina have forgotten such a careless detail? Lynet could have used that snow to her advantage. But she hadn’t fought. She had trusted Mina, and she had died for her trust. And now there would be no more chance for escape, not from the crypt.
“Take care with her,” she said to him. She couldn’t stay in this room any longer. She swept past Felix without letting him touch her. She was covered in fractures, and she was sure that if he placed just a finger on her, she would shatter into a million pieces at once.
34
MINA
She pressed her fingertips to the glass of her mirror, but of course, she felt nothing. Mina had often considered forcing her heart to beat; glass obeyed her, after all. But even if it worked—and she wasn’t sure it would, or if her heart would crack with the effort—it would still be a lie.
The steady pulse in Lynet’s fingertips hadn’t been a lie.
Lynet had died thinking that Mina had killed her, that her efforts to reach out to her stepmother one last time had failed. You’re the only family I have left. That was what troubled Mina the most—that Lynet may have died believing that she was unloved.
Maybe we can make something new.
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.