Page 45 of Echo North

I swallowed, thinking of his angry words in the dark. “We’re friends?”

“Yes, Echo. Of course we are.”

The dress weighed suddenly heavy on me, and I didn’t know how to look at him. “In the books, I don’t have any scars.” I don’t know why I said it.

The wolf watched me, his tail flicking back and forth. “Do you hate them?”

I went and knelt beside him; the gown’s metal embroidery snagged on the carpet. Hesitantly, I brushed my fingertips along the top of his head. He pressed his muzzle into my hand. “I don’t mind them as much, here. I’m glad … I’m glad they brought me to you.” I realized that I meant it.

“So am I,” said the wolf. “I should not be. But I am.”

Impulsively, I hugged him.

I got ready for bed behind a screen in a hurry, the gold dress a puddle of silk around my ankles. I was sorry to hang it in the wardrobe, sad to bid the evening farewell.

I fell asleep with the wolf beside me, and dreamed Hal and I were still dancing.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

THE NEXT MORNING,THE WOLF WASwaiting for me in the corridor outside the bedroom.

I was surprised to see him and he ducked his head, clearly embarrassed. “It is no use mourning the end of the year, when it has yet to happen. I do not want to waste any more time.”

So we paced round the house and tended it together like we had at the beginning. I was glad of his company—some of the more unruly rooms were hard to manage on my own. We checked bindings, spun the spiders’ golden thread onto spools, collected water from the rain room and light from the sunroom.

We spent over an hour in the room with the venomous garden—it was getting out of hand. We hacked away at the vine growing out of the well, and poured water from the rain room over the poisonous plants, which made them wither.

We were almost finished, when the floor began to shake and a resoundingboomsplintered through the air. I slipped and skidded into the well, where the black vine we’d just finished cutting back was already growing again. The wolf snatched my sleeve and dragged me away before the vine could grab me and sink its sharp tendrils in.

I scrambled to my feet. The room continued to shake, and a large crack appeared in the floor, stone grinding and dust swirling. The black vine began to scream.

“Echo!” barked the wolf. “We have to leave.Now.”

The shaking grew worse, the crack in the floor spread wider. We leapt across, and ran for the door.

The black vine shrieked and wailed. Just as we passed the threshold out into the hall, the room fell away into darkness.

I turned, heart thundering. There was no room anymore. Just coiling, echoing, blankness. Ragged threads hung from the door frame, like a piece of cloth had been ripped away.Think of the house as a quilt, the rooms as patches.

“Shut the door!” cried the wolf.

I yanked it closed.

It shuddered and began to melt into the wall. In the space of a few heartbeats, the door vanished entirely, not even a thread remaining.

“Whatwasthat?” I gasped.

The wolf’s ears were pinned back, a growl low in his throat. “It’s started. The unbinding of the house.”

“What do you mean, the unbinding? It isn’t even remotely close to midnight.”

The wolf shook his head. “I do not mean that. This is more serious. The house is connected to me, and I am running out of time. I fear rooms will continue to be unbound, more and more as the days pass. I hope the entire house will not have unraveled by the time the year is ended.”

I stared at the wall where the door had been, my pulse dull and heavy. “The entire house?”

He dipped his white head. “I hope not.”

“What would have happened if we were still behind the door when the room became unbound?”