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“You don’t celebrate?” She supposed it wouldn’t make sense to, on his own.

The solstice celebrations were all about coming together with loved ones, to rejoice in the light together.

Also, there was lots and lots of food. “The Great Library closes to outsiders for the Solstice Feasts, both Summer and Winter, but the Winter Feast was always my favorite. For the Winter Feast, all the librarians are invited to the head librarian’s office.

She resides at the top of the tallest spire.

Eighty-six steps from the top level of the stacks to her office, and each step would have a tray with a different delicacy on it.

Each recipe was from a different island in the Crescent Islands Empire, selected by the librarian in charge of the food history section of the Great Library.

There were crab puffs from Dault, stuffed figs from Tirza, marinated beef skewers with pearl onions from Blaye.

You’d gather everything you wanted and, when you reached the head librarian’s office, she’d wish you light in the darkness. ”

“Must have gotten crowded up there,” Lotti said.

“Oh no, that was the best part.” Terlu smiled, remembering it.

“Each librarian would leave the office through the window, lowered in a gondola lit with twinkling lights—magical lights—all the way down to the canals. You could then feast with others by the water, if you wanted.” A few stayed, and they’d talked and laughed late into the night until all the solstice lights dimmed and were replaced by stars above.

It was her favorite night of the entire year.

“Eighty-six delicacies?” Yarrow said.

“The tricky part was not dropping your plate while you were in the gondola.”

“Huh,” he grunted. Then: “You should put on your coat.”

There were two dead greenhouses to cross before they reached the door to the maze. These were absent of plants, either dead or alive, and Terlu wondered if Yarrow had been able to rescue them before the temperature plummeted. She hoped so.

At the end of the second greenhouse was a door that didn’t match any of the other doors she’d seen. It wasn’t wreathed in delicate ironwork. Instead it was made of interlocking plates. Halting, Yarrow stared at it and grunted again, a less happy grunt this time.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Lotti asked.

Terlu noticed it didn’t have a handle or a knob. “It’s a puzzle.”

“You don’t need me for this,” Yarrow said. “I’m of more use tending to the gardens than playing with Laiken’s toys.”

“You know how to open it, though, don’t you?”

“You have to align the pieces.”

“How?” Lotti asked.

“Carefully,” Yarrow said.

If the rose had eyes to roll, she would have. “You don’t know, do you,” Lotti accused. “I thought you’d come here before.”

“Not in a while,” Yarrow said. “Self-sustaining ecosystem. It doesn’t need me, while plenty of other rooms do. Give me a minute—I’ll remember.” He crossed his arms and stared at the door.

Terlu studied the plates, some silver and some bronze, but all of them ovals. It reminded her of the scales of a fish. “Maybe they’re all supposed to point the same direction?” She began to rotate them. “Or silver in one direction and bronze in the other? No, that’s too simple.”

“Ooh, maybe they’re petals,” the rose said. “Make them into flowers!”

“A chrysanthemum,” Yarrow said suddenly.

He pointed to the center of the door. “All the petals point out from the heart of the flower. Technically, chrysanthemums are a composite of many flowers—disk florets in the center of the bloom and ray florets on the perimeter—but the effect is one massive bloom with concentric circles of petals. See, I knew I’d remember. ”

“Because I reminded you,” Lotti said. “I am obviously the brains of this operation.”

Stifling a laugh, Terlu didn’t point out that Yarrow had been about to leave. She rotated the “petals,” beginning in the center with a circle that pointed out and continued on. As she worked, the winged cat flew off her shoulders and up to perch in the rafters. He began to groom himself.

“White and yellow chrysanthemums can be brewed into a nice tea,” Yarrow said. “It’s best if you use closed buds and add honey.”

“One of my friends is a chrysanthemum,” Lotti said darkly.

“You can harvest the flowers without harming the plant.”

Three circles done. She started on the fourth. Some of the petals were easy to twist and others rotated so smoothly that they promptly flopped to point downward. She fixed the ones that had drooped and finished the fourth circle.

“I hope you ask permission first,” Lotti said.

“Always,” Yarrow said.

Terlu loved that he said that with complete sincerity. He probably did ask. While she squatted to finish the petals at the bottom of the door, he aligned the ones at the top.

As she turned the last petal, she heard a click, then another click, then another. One by one, starting at the center, all of the petals lifted, until it truly resembled a flower.

All three of them (four, including the winged cat) stared at the door, waiting for it to open. It just sat there, looking decorative.

“Huh. That was anticlimactic,” Lotti said.

Terlu pushed on the center of the door, and it swung open.

Inside was what looked like another world.

Above, the sky was amber with ripples of green, like the aurora to the far north, and ahead was a pine forest—or no, a wall of evergreen.

There were no gaps between the trees. The needles wove together in a thick mat that allowed no hint of light.

She stepped in and marveled at it. It stretched as far as she could see in either direction.

“How is this a maze?” Lotti asked.

Yarrow grunted. “You’ll see.”

Terlu and the rose walked (or hopped) through the doorway. Yarrow moved to close the door behind them—and the winged cat swooped through. “Catch him!” he shouted.

But Emeral was already soaring up toward the amber-and-green sky.

“Well, that won’t be good,” Yarrow commented.

Peering to the left, Terlu tried to see any break in the evergreen. It appeared endless, but in the far distance, she thought she saw two figures, a tall one with black-and-gold-streaked hair and a short and plump one with a mess of brown curly hair. She pointed. “Us?”

“Mirrors,” Yarrow said. “He replaced the windows with mirrors, and that”—he waved at the ceiling—“is an illusion. We’re still inside a greenhouse. Just a very large one.”

“But how do we get into the maze? Is it right or left?”

“Neither,” he said. “Straight ahead.” He scooped up the rose, then marched forward directly toward the needles. Lotti gave a little shriek, and the trees scurried back as Yarrow reached them, lifting their roots out of the ground to retreat.

Reaching out a leaf, Lotti poked at a branch. The evergreen didn’t react. Terlu followed the two of them through the gap in the pine trees.

Ahead of them was a maze of sunflowers. Green stalks stood side by side, forming the walls, while the enormous flowers drooped, their brown faces ringed with brilliant yellow petals. It smelled mildly earthy, no strong floral scent, mixed with a hint of pine.

“Hah! This is easy!” Lotti said as she scurried down Yarrow’s torso and legs to the ground. “You just needed someone little like me to figure it out.” She headed for the space between the stalks.

Quickly, Yarrow caught her, cupped in his hands. “You don’t want to do that.”

“Hey! Why—”

A tiny dragon, about the size of a teacup, shot between the stalks. It breathed a candle-size spurt of fire at Lotti and then soared upward. It flew in front of Terlu, only inches from her face.

It was exquisite: an exact miniature of the great dragons of Ilreka.

Each scale was a tiny jewel, and its wings were as delicate as a butterfly’s.

It looked as if it were made of blown glass.

“Wow,” she breathed. “I thought you might be joking.” The leafy mice had been fascinating, but this… this was extraordinary.

“I never joke about pollinators,” Yarrow said.

“Wait, pollinators?” Terlu asked. “They act like bees? Fascinating.” She turned in a circle, looking at the array of sunflowers—they stretched as far as she could see. Little dragons flitted from one sunflower to another, landing on the brown hearts of the flowers.

“What do you call a bee that’s been put under a spell?” Lotti asked.

Terlu raised her eyebrows at the little rose.

“ Bee -witched.”

“No,” Yarrow said.

They walked into the sunflower maze and immediately the path split. “Keep a wall to our left at all times,” Terlu suggested. “It won’t be quick, but if we keep a wall to our left, it’ll eventually lead us through.”

“Why do bees hum?” Lotti asked. “Because they can’t remember the words.”

Terlu let her fingers brush the sunflower leaves to her left as they walked. It was only a few yards in before they hit a dead end, but she didn’t slow—she kept her fingers out, brushing the leaves as they walked.

At each junction, she chose left.

“What’s a bee’s favorite flower?”

“Please don’t say bee-gonia,” Yarrow growled.

“Ooh, you’re good,” Lotti said. “How about, what does the bee say to—”

Terlu held up her hand. What was that sound? She looked up and saw a flock—a school? a flight? a herd?—of miniature dragons. Hissing, they spiraled in the air. Their wings glowed in the unearthly amber-and-green light from the false sky.

Yarrow called, “Emeral, no!”

High in the sky, the winged cat dove at them, and they scattered. Flapping his wings, he changed directions and flew after the flock.

“Ooh, a perfect distraction,” Lotti said. She darted down Yarrow’s leg and between the stalks before either Yarrow or Terlu could stop her. In a few seconds, she was out of sight.

“Come back,” Terlu called. “We have to stick together!”

One of the dragons, a ruby-red beauty, wheeled midair and then flew toward the maze. It disappeared behind the heads of the flowers. Terlu shoved aside the stalks to rush after Lotti—

The flock of dragons coalesced above her, ignoring the cat, and dove. Yarrow yanked her away from the sunflowers, as Emeral pounced on the dragons from above. They veered away from his claws. She felt the tiny talons of a golden dragon rake through her hair.

Yarrow held her against his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around her, and Terlu buried her face against him. The flurry of wings stirred up wind around them. A second later, it was gone. She peeked out.

“Lotti?”

The little rose didn’t answer.