“Well, actually,” Lynet continued, tearing her eyes away from Nadia to the small lapping waves of the lake behind her, “I thought maybe you’d like to be a part of that, to use what you’ve learned to help others. But … but I also know how much you wanted to leave the North, and I wouldn’t want you to stay just for my sake. So if you wanted to go south again, instead, if you wanted to stay there … I would understand.” She swallowed, and finally she glanced back at Nadia for some hint of her preference, but her face revealed nothing. “Do you want to go?”
Nadia blinked, and then she looked away, a sad smile on her face. “Lynet…” she said. And then she shook her head and pulled a familiar purse from the pocket of her trousers. “I brought this to give back to you,” she said, holding it up, the coins jangling faintly inside. “I wanted to tell you that I wouldn’t need it, because I don’t intend to go anywhere.”
“But I thought—are you sure?” Lynet said, hardly trusting her own relief.
Nadia laughed, her face open and bright, with no shadow to mar her joy. “I would like to go back south someday to visit. But when I said I wanted to go before … I thought going south would make me feel less alone, but I was still so lonely there. The only time I didn’t feel lonely was … when I was with you.” Her eyes fluttered down, a shy smile on her face. “If I had left Whitespring after you were poisoned, I would have made the same mistake as when I agreed to spy on you. I would have been chasing ghosts and memories instead of fighting for something real.”
She pressed the purse into Lynet’s hands and bent her head to lay a gentle kiss on Lynet’s mouth. “That’s why I still choose you,” she said, her lips brushing against Lynet’s. “I want to stay with you and help you heal the North.”
Lynet leaned in, and for a while, neither of them spoke.
“Keep this,” Lynet said, giving the purse back to Nadia. “In case you ever change your mind. It’s only snow, after all.”
Nadia hesitated, but then she took it. “I’ll save it for the new school,” she said with a grin. “I can’t think of a better way to honor my parents than to teach others what they taught me.”
They walked back toward the garden, discussing plans for their school, Lynet’s step lighter than before.
A few minutes later, Mina came striding across the grounds, still every bit a queen. She offered a civil nod to Nadia and then she turned to Lynet with a smile as warm as summer.
“Now that you’re both here,” Lynet said, “I wanted to show you something.”
Nadia and Mina both spoke at the same time. “What are you—”
“Hush,” Lynet said. “Just watch.”
She hadn’t tried this before, but she knew it would work, because she knew this was her true purpose—not to become her mother, but to end this curse at last. The snow was still steadily falling on them, but Lynet turned her face up to the gray clouds and told the snow, simply, to stop.
And it did.
Nadia’s forehead wrinkled as she looked at Lynet’s face, watching as she’d been ordered. It took her several seconds to look up and notice that the snow had stopped falling. But Mina—Mina had noticed at once, her eyes widening in awe.
“The snow stopped,” Mina whispered.
“Did you—?” Nadia started saying at the same time.
Lynet laughed. “I think the snow deserves a rest.” She turned her attention to the place where the statue had once stood, and she concentrated again until the snow there melted, leaving a square of damp brown soil. “A little at a time,” she said. “People will need to adjust gradually, and I’ll have to keep some of the snow, or else I’ll grow too weak. But I want to make the North bloom again, to make life easier here. I have to try, anyway.”
“If anyone can do it, I know you can,” Nadia said, gazing at her fondly. “I think—” Nadia stopped and frowned as something over Lynet’s shoulder caught her eye. The frown softened into that expression Lynet had seen on her before when she was studying her books—an expression of curiosity and amazement that there was still so much in the world to discover. “Lynet, look,” she said.
The first thing Lynet noticed when she turned was a flash of green. She thought it was just a trick of the light at first, but then she saw it clearly: a long, thin stem with a perfectly formed leaf. When Lynet examined it more closely, she saw that the budding plant was real, a single sign of life in place of Sybil’s statue.
“Lynet.” From behind her, Mina spoke with such breathless wonder that Lynet wasn’t sure what she would see when she turned around.
Mina was pointing to the trees in the Shadow Garden. Lynet stepped closer, coming to stand beside her stepmother, and saw the scattering of leaves and the closed pink buds that were beginning to grow on the dead branches.
The two of them walked through the garden without speaking, and Nadia seemed to know not to follow for now—this was something Mina and Lynet needed to share alone. Mina was looking around in amazement at what was probably the first new life she had seen since leaving the South, and Lynet went up on her toes to examine the delicate leaves, brushing her fingers carefully against their edges. They were so small, like little pink and green stars against the dark wood, but they held the promise of spring.
“We broke the curse, Mina,” Lynet said softly.
“You broke the curse,” Mina said, tearing her gaze away from the trees.
Lynet shook her head. “You’re the one who tore down the statue. It took both of us to break the curse.”
Even as she said the words, she was sure they were true. Sybil’s garden. Sybil’s statue. Perhaps the dead queen had only been waiting for someone to put an end to her grief at last, to offer her some kind of hope that life would return to the North.
A small smile crept over Mina’s face. “Maybe you’re right,” she said, her hand slipping into Lynet’s.
And as they walked back from the garden together hand in hand, Lynet knew that this would be their legacy, the story they had chosen—two girls made of snow and glass who were more than their origins, two queens who had come together to reshape their world.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First and foremost, thanks to my family. This book wouldn’t exist without you.
To my mom, Gilda: Thank you for listening to my late-night panic sessions when I was convinced I was doing everything wrong, for believing in me more than I believed in myself, and for your wisdom, advice, and unwavering support. To my dad, Barry: Thank you for suggesting that I take a book with me out to recess in second grade when I complained about being bored, for encouraging me to be the best I can be, and for always being there for me. And to my sister, Roxanne: Thank you for being proud of me, for your irrepressible enthusiasm and encouragement, and for always looking out for me like a true big sister.