Echo North(31)

Minutes ticked by in the dark, and at last I said, “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

He didn’t answer for so long I thought he wasn’t going to. But then: “You did not offend me.”

“Wolf?”

“Yes, Echo?”

I crumpled the covers in my hand. I listened to the sound of his breathing. “I wish you would let me help you.”

“You are helping. The house is in better spirits than it has been in years.”

“No, I mean help you. Help this year not be your last.”

He rustled in the bed; his fur scraped the sheets. “You cannot help me, Echo. You never could.”

“But—”

“Go to sleep,” he said.

I shut my eyes.

But sleep was a long time coming.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN

OUTSIDE THE ODD HUMOR OF THE house under the mountain, spring had turned to summer, and summer was deepening. Already, the year wended away. It would be autumn again soon, then winter, and my year would be fulfilled. I didn’t like to think about that—I wasn’t ready to think about it, so I pushed it to the back of my mind, and focused on music lessons, reading, and tending the house.

I was practicing one day on the Empress’s harpsichord when I looked up to see Hal leaning in the doorway.

He jumped a little, caught staring, and for a moment we blinked at each other and didn’t say anything. He was dressed simply: gray trousers and a loose-fitting white shirt, with embroidery about the neckline.

I’d been struggling to make my fingers understand my first ever three-part Behrend contrivance after semi-mastering the two-part ones. As delighted as I was to see Hal again, I was embarrassed he’d been listening.

Hal recovered his nonchalance before I had a chance to collect myself. “There are much better instruments than this to be found,” he said, folding his arms across his chest and walking over to the harpsichord. “I could recommend hundreds of titles with gorgeous pianos shut up in back rooms.”

I sat a little straighter on the bench, offended into speech. “I quite prefer the harpsichord, thank you.”

His lips quirked up. He leaned over me and played a few careless notes in the upper register. “If you say you prefer it because you read somewhere that Behrend originally composed his pieces for harpsichord, you clearly haven’t thoroughly pondered the topic.”

“Beg pardon!” I yanked the key cover down, forcing Hal to jerk his hands out of the way to keep them from getting crushed.

He grinned, unabashed.

I stood from the bench and paced over to the window. The music room looked out over one of the Empress’s many gardens. I glimpsed the edge of her gown peeking out behind a hedge, along with the elegant shoe I knew belonged to her wretched musician. I was so glad I’d never followed the book along its intended path.

Hal came over and plopped himself down in the window seat, yawning as he languorously stretched out his legs. “While it is true that Behrend composed for harpsichord, the piano had barely been invented when he was alive, and the quality of pianos built in those days was severely lacking. They hadn’t perfected the instrument yet. Many scholars believe that if Behrend were alive today, he would eschew the harpsichord immediately in favor of the piano.”

I gaped at him, fumbling for a scathing retort and coming up empty. All I knew about Behrend was what the wolf had told me, the brief biographies printed on the back of his sheet music, and that ridiculous book-mirror about the painter’s daughter. If I’d had an ordinary library at my disposal I could read up on my music history and refute him, but as it was …

I shrugged, attempting indifference. “I like how it sounds.”

He smiled. “Fair enough.”

I studied him, wondering how I could be so glad to see him and so irritated with him at the same time. “You haven’t been reading lately.” My words came out more accusatory than I actually meant them.

“Yes, I have. You’re just a hard person to find.”

I tapped my finger against my breastbone. “You’ve been looking for me?”

“Of course I have! Books are very dull without someone to share them with.”

Heat flooded up my neck.

He winked at me, unfolding himself from the window seat and standing in one smooth motion. He bowed with a flourish. “Fancy a walk, Echo?”

I glanced once more out the window. “As long as we avoid that awful Empress.”

He laughed. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

We left the music room by way of the rose garden, passing through the hedgerows and out onto a wide hill, where tall grass rustled in the wind. The air was alive with honeybees and the scent of wildflowers, and huge white clouds scudded through the sky; their shadows stretched long over us.

“Where are you from?” I asked Hal, trailing my hand over the tops of the grass. It was feather soft, but it itched.

“From?” He raised an eyebrow at me, as if that was a difficult question.

“Where are you when you’re not reading?” I clarified.

“Oh, I’m always reading.” He dashed ahead of me and I ran after him, half tripping the rest of the way down the hill.

Ahead of us, a wide lake sparkled in the sun, and beyond it was a wood.

It seemed there was always a wood.