Dear Snow Queen, Yeva wrote, I can't thank you enough for everything you've done, and I'm unsure of what to do with the money you've given me. I'd like to get in touch with you to see if we can talk because I don't feel right accepting it. I might use a small amount to buy some things for Rozie, but if you decide you want it back, I'll repay the value in full.

Thank you for making her birthday special and for saving my life. I'm sorry that you're lonely, but I'm sure there's something that can be done. Don't give up hope.

—Yeva

Despite the fortune lurking in the bottom drawer of Yeva's night stand, she continued waking up before dawn and chopping wood for the fire, clearing the snow from the walkway, cooking for Rozie, and cleaning the house.

She and Rozie still went into town and sold furniture, though, the people finally discovered that the handsome, mysterious prince was Yeva, now that they held the same occupation and stood in the same spot on weekends.

People who may have passed her before approached and asked endless questions. Where did she and Rozie acquire those clothes? Where had they been over the last two weeks? Why had she cut her hair so short?

"Inheritance," Yeva answered. "We had to attend a funeral," she said. "My hair was becoming a nuisance."

Whoever asked might linger a moment too long before walking away, as Yeva kept from gazing at the ice sculpture. She hadn't melted yet, though her luxurious layer of snow had diminished as the coldest weeks had passed. It still snowed, but over short periods, instead of deathly storms of week-long blizzards.

When the townspeople kept their eyes to themselves, Yeva regarded it as long as she could before interrupted, and Rozie would ask, "Have you heard from her yet?"

"No, I haven't."

"Aw—" Rozie would whine, "but I want to see her."

Yeva asked her not to speak about it in public and Rozie stopped with some complaining. She opened Lady Felicity and played with her wand until it became commonplace, and eventually quit asking.

One night, Yeva sat at the edge of her bed nearest the window, watching the snow shower outside. The glass resembled a school's blackboard, blank but marred by the frost that clung to it, as if a student had left remnants of chalk.

Yeva kept waiting. The dark glass lit by scant moonlight continued presenting the snow, and while Yeva could make out her reflection, she never found her image in the Snow Queen's eyes. Now the only mirror was the windowpane, but Yeva drew closer, regardless.

Fogging up the glass with her breath, she pressed a finger into the spot she had made, and wrote, 'Hello?' and waited.

Minutes passed. Perhaps she wasn't watching. There were hundreds of other people for her attention, or maybe Yeva's encounter truly was a fever dream. Some burning illness could have left her longing for the cold. Perhaps she hadn't healed completely yet, envisioning Rozie's magic wand.

When Yeva turned away, the wind howled outside and drew her back. Reorienting herself, she found a brief freeze on the glass, with 'hello' printed in elegant cursive.

Yeva warmed the window with her breath, erasing the message, and wrote back, 'How are you?'

'I'm fine. Thank you.' Where Yeva would have tried to respond, the text continued in the snowflakes clumping to form small letters. 'I wanted to thank you for the beautiful chair. I'm sorry I wasn't there to collect it from you.'

Yeva almost asked why she wasn't, but the note continued. 'I felt that I had caused enough trouble in your life.'

'No,' Yeva wrote with her finger. 'I'm not angry.'

'You're welcome to speak.'

"I'm not angry, and I'm the one who should feel guilty. You've left me so much money."

'I have far more than that. You don't need to hesitate in accepting it. Invest it, or use it to send Rozie to school, or buy a new house.'

"I don't want to buy a new house, Snow Queen."

The text stopped. When Yeva spoke, the Snow Queen was in the middle of suggesting a gown, on an incomplete letter n. She started over. 'I certainly won't force you.'

"I didn't mean to be rude. This is our childhood home."

'I understand.'

Yeva paused. "Did you receive the notes as well, Snow Queen?"

'I did.'

"Are you still lonely?"

The text hesitated. 'Yes.'

"Why don't we talk tomorrow? I should have some time after Rozie heads to school."

'I would enjoy that.'

"Good. Goodnight, Snow Queen."

'Goodnight, Yeva.'

The message disappeared from the window as Yeva went to bed, extinguishing her candle. The soft light from the stove still radiated within the room.

The next morning, Yeva saw Rozie to school and returned to her bedroom window where she nearly spoke. The frost interrupted her.

'Good morning, Yeva.'

"Good morning, Snow Queen."

'How did you sleep?'

"Well, and you?"

The frost took a moment to write out its reply. 'I don't sleep, but I rested well.'

"If you don't sleep, then what do you do?"

'I retired to my chamber to read, and while lounging upon my sofa, I rested my eyes, but I never sleep, nor do I dream.'

Yeva read over the response. "Do you miss dreaming?"

'How did you know I used to dream?'

"Oh—" Yeva blushed. "I saw the portrait inside your palace. That was you, wasn't it?"

The Snow Queen paused, 'It was.'

"May I ask what happened?"

She paused for a longer time, perhaps leaning back within her throne (if she sat upon it) and touched the crystal white fur around her shoulders. Or perhaps her long-nailed fingers played with an elegant collar made for a queen, as she formed her response. 'My heart grew cold, and froze over.' Eventually, she added, 'I've been magical my entire life.'

"Did it hurt when your heart froze?"

'No. I felt nothing, and to this day, feel nothing.'

"I don't think that's true."

'Oh?'

"You cried before I left, Snow Queen. Your tears were perfect and beautiful, but they were tears nonetheless."

'I suppose.' Yeva imagined her saying it, setting her chin upon the back of her fingers, tilting her head. 'I did feel terrible that day. What I mean to say is that I feel nothing most of the time. Though, there are certainly some events that leave me with emotions, but—' the flakes reset themselves, peeling from the glass and starting over. 'For the most part, the hours pass calmly, and I'm undeterred.'

"You said you were lonely."

'That is as constant as the ice composing my palace.'

"But it's still a feeling."

'It hardly affects me anymore, though I appreciate your company, Yeva.'

Seconds passed. "It doesn't have to be that way, Snow Queen, and I think it does affect you, no matter how used to it you are."

'Thank you, Yeva,' she wrote.

They spoke about an hour before Yeva went to the workbench. The Snow Queen asked to watch from the shed's window and Yeva said that she could.

They fell into a routine.

After waking Rozie and cooking her breakfast, Yeva would ask the Snow Queen how she was. It was strange at first, to march in and speak to one side of the room, but sometimes the Queen had preemptively written her good morning.

The Snow Queen would tell Yeva of the amusing occurrences in the city. Some of the people who stopped to stare at her in the street had plenty of secrets—affairs and scams that ended up public. Yeva would recognize names from chairs she had built for a fighting couple, or a table she made for someone who would marry (it wasn't all bad).

"Can you see other cities as well, Snow Queen?" Yeva asked.

Amid someone else's dirty laundry spelled neatly on the pane, the Snow Queen said, 'I can see anywhere, as long as there is glass.' She reached the end of the window and restarted,'Or snow for me to look through the flakes. There are some parts of the world I cannot see, but I can see much of it.'

"That's impressive," Yeva paused, "I've been wondering, how is it you can hear me, Snow Queen? When I used your mirror, I could only see."

'I'm the Snow Queen,' she answered. 'You're only a human, but I would bet by your ability to use my mirror that you have magic inside of you too. My mirror, however, was not made for you, so you can't hear through it; not like I can hear you.'

"I see," Yeva said. "Can you hear me through any manner of glass, Snow Queen?"

'I can.'

"Perhaps I'll try talking to you as I work outside, if you decide to watch me."

'I enjoy watching. You're very skilled.' There was a lull. 'Would you ever permit me to assist you?'

"Assist me?"

Past the window, the flakes clumped together, and from the ground, the snow rose. What at first was a large, shapeless heap took form, as if she were molding clay on a pottery wheel. The mass developed curves and indents, convex and concave angles. She grew a face and two feminine arms, whose hands pressed against the window as she seemingly looked in.

The snow woman didn't embody the Queen's true height, but stood about as tall as Yeva. Their eyes were level.

Suddenly, the text resumed as the woman fell apart, covering the ground she had stripped. One of her arms lay visibly atop the pile.

'You don't seem particularly enthused,' she wrote.

"I suppose I'm worried someone might see your snow woman." Yeva paused. "I don't want the attention that sort of magic might bring."

'Is that why you didn't tell the townspeople the truth?'

"It is," she answered, "I don't care if they look at me as an outcast. They already do. I just…" She trailed off. "I don't want the endless questions, or worse, if they treat Rozie badly."

'I understand.'

"Thank you," said Yeva, "but I would be happy if you watched me. I appreciate your company."

The Snow Queen watched as Yeva went outside and cut her wood. That day she constructed a simple marriage bed for a young couple, carving a design into the headboard with a heart in the center.

The Snow Queen drew a heart into the workshed's window, which Yeva traced another heart around.

"Thank you, Snow Queen," she said around a chuckle and went back to work.