I sighed and picked up the needle. It was strangely heavy and warm, and it buzzed in my hand. The spool of thread was just as light as the scarlet cord, if not lighter. I unwound a bit—it seemed to have no substance at all—and it stretched out toward the needle all on its own, slipping through the eye. I put the thimble on and was startled to find it soft inside, like it was lined with velvet.
“Now for the binding stitch,” said the wolf. “Take the scarlet cords, and stack their ends on top of each other, then draw your needle up through both cords. Loop it around to the bottom and do it again, over and over until the binding is secure.”
I hesitated a moment, then did as he asked. The needle chimed like a tiny bell as I sewed, the golden thread whispered, the scarlet cords sighed. I could feel the moment the binding stitch was complete, the cords and thread fused tight together. I glanced at the wolf, and he nodded, so I used the bear-shaped scissors to snip the end of the thread. The girl from the book-mirror flashed into my mind, weaving a shimmering net to use against the queen’s thorny army. Old magic—it sent a thrill through me.
The wolf seemed satisfied. “That should hold. We will be vigilant about tending the bindings—the fire will not break loose again.” He tilted his head to one side. “The pouch and its contents are yours, my lady. I would be honored if you would wear them.”
For a moment, I just stared at him, then returned all the sewing items to the pouch and put on the belt, cinching it tight around my waist. I liked the weight of the pouch at my hip; it felt natural, somehow.
The wolf’s lips curled up in what I took for his version of a smile. “I have always hated this part of the house. Let’s walk somewhere more pleasant. Come.”
He trotted off down the dirt passageway. I had no desire to go anywhere else with the wolf—I couldn’t stop seeing my father, sobbing on Rodya’s shoulder—but I wasn’t sure how to slip away without him knowing. And old magic or not, I didn’t want anything more to do with the door I’d just bound. So I gritted my teeth and ran to catch up.
I walked next to him, glancing down to see that the cuts on my palms had healed where the scarlet threads had touched them. The same sensation of coolness that had poured through me when I stepped into the book-mirror tingled in my hands.
“Garden!” the wolf barked at the air.
The floor shimmied a little beneath our feet, and the dirt passage turned into a normal hallway, lanterns on the walls, green-and-blue patterned carpet stretching out before us. We went up a stair and around a corner, then down two more stairs to a small white door. It opened at our approach, and was so low I had to duck my head to pass through.
I stepped into full daylight, the almost unbearable brightness making my eyes stream. I stood still a moment to let them adjust, overwhelmed by the cacophony of birdsong and bumblebees after the heavy silence I had grown used to inside. The air was alive with the heady scent of roses; water burbled from some hidden fountain.
I blinked the tears from my eyes. The wolf had brought me into a terraced garden, wide grassy steps cut into the hill that were bordered with white stones. We had come out, somehow, at the very bottom of the hill, and the entire garden rose above us. A narrow walking trail wound up the steps, and on either side of the level ground stood an impenetrable iron fence. My eyes traced the length of it, but I saw no gate. I wondered if it was to keep the wood out, or the wolf in, or both.
The wolf watched me intently, as if it were important to him that I was impressed by the garden.
I was in no mood to be impressed. “Tell me what’s going on, and what exactly I did back there.”
He let out a breath. “We will talk as we go. Come.”
We mounted the first step and climbed past a lily pool, water splashing silver over bright, darting fish.
“The house is wild, as I told you before. It’s brimming with magic, some of it lovely and some of it more dangerous than you know.”
The book-mirrors. The bauble room. The laughing, shrieking fire. I nodded and climbed on.
“All the rooms exist, but none of them here, if you understand me. They are never in the same order unless you command the house to make them that way.”
“Command the house?” Roses nodded at us in the breeze, vines twining up a trellis set against the hill. I got the feeling they were dancing to music I couldn’t hear.
“If you would like to see the conservatory, you must simply tell the house ‘Conservatory,’ and that is what you will find behind the next door.”
That must have been why the wolf had yelled “garden” after we left the bound door. “But how did the rooms get here?”
“The … person who … arranged …” He growled, the words not coming out, then tried again. “A collector amused to gather bits of things … she … likes meshed them all together. A room here. A … life … there.”
I frowned. “Her” again. “Someone with great magic chose things to bring here. Gathered by … enchantment?” The word felt like ash in my mouth.
“Yes.”
We had climbed nearly to the top of the terraced steps. Around a bend in the path, a waterfall spilled from the brow of the hill. The wolf slipped through it, disappearing behind a curtain of spray.
I followed, holding my breath at the touch of cold water on my skin, and then I was through. A cozy room lay hidden beyond, a pair of armchairs facing out toward the waterfall. Between them stood an end table that sported a lamp and an ancient-looking tea set with chips in the china.
“But who is she?” I pressed.
He clambered up into one of the chairs, sitting on his haunches and draping his paws over the arm like someone’s overgrown house pet. Donia would have a conniption if the wolf sat on her furniture like that.
I tucked myself into the other chair.
“She is … the wood is …” The wolf looked at me, his sorrow palpable. “The wood is under her will, as is the house. But I can’t … I can’t talk about … in this house.… ” He looked at me helplessly.
I thought about the way I could barely say “enchantment.” “You can’t talk about her. Not here.”
He nodded.
“And the gatekeeper? The North Wind?”
“My guard.”
“Then you’re a prisoner.”
If the wolf was human I swear he would have shrugged. “Of a sort.”
“Then what am I?”
“You are my guest. The house’s next potential caretaker.”
“And have you had … guests … before?”
The waterfall roared; the air in the cave grew suddenly cold.
The wolf’s eyes found mine. “It has only ever been you, my lady.”
I unfolded myself from the chair, and paced over to the waterfall. I plunged my hand into it; icy cold seared through me. I blinked and saw my father, holding his lantern high in the snowy wood. Looking for me. Waiting for me. Fearing the worst.
The wolf padded up beside me. Why did I still feel drawn to him?
“I will teach you how to care for the house. How to command it. You don’t have to be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid of the house.” I realized it was true.
“Are you afraid of me?”
For a moment I peered down at him, trying to parcel out my feelings. “I don’t know.”
He dipped his head. “I will endeavor to give you no further reasons to fear me. Now, come. There is much to show you before the day is gone.”
He stepped back through the waterfall.
And I followed.
CHAPTER TEN
WE RETRACED OUR STEPS THROUGH THE garden and into the house, where a blue tiled corridor lined with miniature apple trees waited for us. I told the wolf I was tired and hungry, that I didn’t want to see anymore of the house just then.
His amber eyes burned into mine, but he didn’t call my bluff. “Ask the house, and it will bring you a meal. If you have need of me, call.”
And then he left me, the apple trees rustling as he passed them by.
I waited as long as I could bear, then started walking in the opposite direction. “House,” I said, feeling foolish, “Could I have a meat pie?” The air shimmered, and around the corner I found a plate waiting on a low table; the tantalizing aroma of stewed meat wafted up to greet me. I grabbed the pie and ate as I walked, so quickly I burned my tongue—I was starving, and even Donia had never made something so delicious.