“In the heat of the moment,” said Charlotte. “But he returned with you to London; I am confident he wil return to the Institute as wel . He knows you obtained that button, Tessa. He’l want to discover what Starkweather knew.”
“Precious little, real y,” said Tessa. She stil felt obscurely guilty that she had not found more useful information in Starkweather’s memories. She had tried to explain what it was like to be in the mind of someone whose brain was decaying, but it had been hard to find the words, and she remembered mainly the look of disappointment on Charlotte’s face when she’d said she had discovered nothing useful about Ravenscar Manor.
She had told them al of Starkweather’s memories of the Shade family, and that indeed if their deaths had been the impetus for Mortmain’s desire for justice and vengeance, it did seem as if it would be a powerful one. She had kept his shock at seeing her to herself—it was baffling stil , and seemed somehow private.
“What if Wil chooses to leave the Clave forever?” Tessa said. “Would he return to his family to protect them?”
“No,” Charlotte replied a little sharply. “No. I don’t think he wil do that.” She would miss Will if he were gone, Tessa thought with surprise. Wil was always so unpleasant—and often so to Charlotte—that Tessa sometimes forgot the stubborn love Charlotte seemed to feel for al her charges.
“But if they’re in danger—,” Tessa protested, then fel silent as Sophie entered the room carrying a pot of hot water, and set it down. Charlotte brightened at the sight of her.
“Tessa, Sophie, Jessamine,” she said. “Lest you forget, you al have training this morning with Gabriel and Gideon Lightwood.”
“I cannot do it,” Jessamine said immediately.
“Why not? I thought you had recovered from your headache—”
“Yes, but I don’t want it to come back, do I?” Jessamine stood up hurriedly. “I’d prefer to help you, Charlotte.”
“I don’t need your assistance writing to Ragnor Fel , Jessie. I’d real y rather you took advantage of the training—”
“But there’s dozens of replies piling up in the library from the Downworlders we’ve queried about Mortmain’s whereabouts,” Jessamine argued. “I could help you sort through those.”
Charlotte sighed. “Very wel .” She turned to Tessa and Sophie. “In the meantime you won’t say anything to the Lightwood boys about Yorkshire, or about Wil ? I could do without having them in the Institute right now myself, but there’s no help for it. It’s a show of good faith and confidence to continue the training. You must behave in al ways as if nothing is wrong. Can you do that, girls?”
“Of course we can, Mrs. Branwel ,” said Sophie immediately. Her eyes were bright and she was smiling. Tessa sighed inwardly, not sure how to feel. Sophie adored Charlotte, and would do anything to please her. She also detested Wil and was unlikely to be worried about his absence.
Tessa looked across the table at Jem. She felt a hol owness in her stomach, the ache of not knowing where Wil was, and wondered if he felt it too.
His normal y expressive face was stil and unreadable, though when he caught her glance, he smiled a gentle, encouraging smile. Jem was Wil ’s parabatai, his blood brother; surely if there were truly something to be concerned about where Wil was involved, Jem would not be able to hide it— would he?
From the kitchen Bridget’s voice rol ed out in a sweet high warble:
“Must I go bound while you go free
Must I love a man who doesn’t love me
Must I be born with so little art
A s to love a man who’ll break my heart?”
Tessa pushed her chair back from the table. “I think I had better go and get dressed.”
Having changed from her day dress into gear, Tessa sat down on the edge of her bed and picked up the copy of Vathek Wil had given her. It did not bring the thought of Wil smiling to her mind, but other images of Wil —Wil bending over her in the Sanctuary, covered in blood; Wil squinting into the sun on the roof of the Institute; Wil rol ing down the hil in Yorkshire with Jem, splattering himself with mud and not caring; Wil fal ing off the table in the dining room; Wil holding her in the dark. Will, Will, Will.
She threw the book. It struck the fireplace mantel and bounced off, landing on the floor. If only there were some way to scrape Wil out of her mind, like scraping the mud off your shoe. If only she knew where he was. Worry made it worse, and she could not stop herself from worrying. She could not forget the look on his face as he had gazed at his sister.
Distraction made her late to the training room; fortunately, when she arrived, the door was open and there was no one there but Sophie, holding a long knife in her hand and examining it thoughtful y as she might examine a dust mop to decide if there was stil use in it or if it was time for it to be thrown away.