Clockwork Prince by Cassandra Clare

She looked up as Tessa came into the room. “Wel , you look like a wet weekend, miss,” she said with a smile. “Is everything al right?” She cocked her head to the side as Tessa nodded. “Is it Master Wil ? He’s gone off missing for a day or two before. He’l be back, don’t you fear.”

 

 

“That’s kind of you to say, Sophie, especial y as I know you are not overfond of him.”

 

“I rather thought you weren’t either,” said Sophie, “least-ways not anymore . . .”

 

Tessa looked at her sharply. She had not had a real conversation with Sophie about Wil since the roof incident, she thought, and besides, Sophie had warned her off him, comparing him to a poisonous snake. Before Tessa could say anything in reply, the door opened and Gabriel and Gideon Lightwood came in, fol owed by Jem. He winked at Tessa before disappearing, closing the door behind him.

 

Gideon went straight over to Sophie. “A good choice of blade,” he said, faint surprise underlining his words. She blushed, looking pleased.

 

“So,” said Gabriel, who had somehow managed to get behind Tessa without her noticing. After examining the racks of weapons along the wal s, he drew down a knife and handed it to her. “Feel the weight of the blade there.”

 

Tessa tried to feel the weight of it, struggling to remember what he had told her about where and how it should balance in her palm.

 

“What do you think?” Gabriel asked. She looked up at him. Of the two boys he certainly looked more like his father, with his aquiline features and the faint shading of arrogance to his expression. His slim mouth curled up at the corners. “Or are you too busy worrying about Herondale’s whereabouts to practice today?”

 

Tessa nearly dropped the knife. “What?”

 

“I heard you and Miss Col ins when I was coming up the stairs. Disappeared, has he? Not surprising, considering I don’t think Wil Herondale and a sense of responsibility are even on speaking terms.”

 

Tessa set her chin. Conflicted as she was about Wil , there was something about someone outside the Institute’s smal family criticizing him that set her teeth on edge. “It’s quite a common occurrence, nothing to fuss about,” she said. “Wil is a—free spirit. He’l return soon enough.”

 

“I hope not,” said Gabriel. “I hope he’s dead.”

 

Tessa’s hand tightened around the knife. “You mean that, don’t you? What did he do to your sister to make you hate him so much?”

 

“Why don’t you ask him?”

 

“Gabriel.” Gideon’s voice was sharp. “Shal we get to the instruction, please, and cease wasting time?”

 

Gabriel glared at his older brother, who was standing quite peaceably with Sophie, but obediently turned his attention from Wil to the day’s training. They were practicing how to hold blades today, and how to balance them as they swept them through the air without the blade point drooping forward or the handle slipping from the hand. It was harder than it looked, and today Gabriel wasn’t patient. She envied Sophie, being taught by Gideon, who was always a careful, methodical instructor, though he did have a habit of slipping into Spanish whenever Sophie did something wrong. “A y Dios mio,” he would say, pul ing the blade from where it had stuck, point down, in the floor. “Shal we try that again?”

 

“Stand up straight,” Gabriel was saying to Tessa meanwhile, impatiently. “No, straight. Like this.” He demonstrated. She wanted to snap at him that she, unlike him, had not had a lifetime of being taught how to stand and move; that Shadowhunters were natural acrobats, and she was nothing of the sort.

 

“Hmph,” she said. “I’d like to see you learn how to manage sitting and standing up straight in stays and petticoats and a dress with a foot’s worth of train!”

 

“So would I,” said Gideon from across the room.

 

“Oh, by the Angel,” said Gabriel, and he took her by the shoulders, flipping her around so she stood with her back to him. He put his arms around her, straightening her spine, arranging the knife in her hand. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, and it made her shiver—and fil ed her with annoyance. If he was touching her, it was only because he presumed he could, without asking, and because he thought it would irritate Wil .

 

“Let me go,” she said, under her breath.

 

“This is part of your training,” said Gabriel in a bored voice. “Besides, look at my brother and Miss Col ins. She isn’t complaining.”

 

She glanced across the room at Sophie, who seemed earnestly engaged in her lesson with Gideon. He was standing behind her, one arm around her from the back, showing her how to hold a needle-tipped throwing knife. His hand was gently cupped around hers, and he appeared to be speaking to the back of her neck, where her dark hair had escaped from its tight chignon and curled becomingly. When he saw Tessa looking at them, he flushed.

 

Cassandra Clare's books