Clockwork Prince by Cassandra Clare

“Wel , what? Sophie—”

 

“I hit her on the head with a mirror,” Sophie said hopelessly. “One of those silver-backed ones, so it was quite heavy. She went down just like a stone, miss. So I . . . I tied her to the bed and I came looking for you.”

 

“Let me see if I have this quite correct,” said Tessa after a pause. “Jessamine found you with the invitation in your hand, so you struck her over the head with a mirror and tied her to her bed?”

 

Sophie nodded.

 

“Good Lord,” said Tessa. “Sophie, we’re going to need to fetch someone. This bal cannot remain a secret, and Jessamine . . .”

 

“Not Mrs. Branwel ,” Sophie moaned. “She’l sack me. She’l have to.”

 

“Jem—”

 

“No!” Sophie’s hand flew to her col ar, where the spot of blood was. Jessamine’s blood, Tessa realized with a jolt. “I couldn’t bear if he thought I could do such a thing—he’s so gentle. Please don’t make me tel him, miss.”

 

Of course, Tessa thought. Sophie loved Jem. In al the mess of the past few days, she had nearly forgotten. A wave of shame swamped her as she thought of the night before; she fought it back, and said determinedly, “There is only one person, then, Sophie, whom we can go to. You do understand that?”

 

“Master Wil ,” said Sophie with loathing, and sighed. “Very wel , miss. I suppose I don’t care what he thinks of me.”

 

Tessa rose and reached for her dressing gown, and wrapped it around herself. “Look upon the bright side, Sophie. At least Wil won’t be shocked. I doubt Jessamine’s the first unconscious female he’s ever dealt with, or that she’l be the last either.”

 

Tessa had been wrong about at least one thing: Wil was shocked.

 

“Sophie did this?” he said, not for the first time. They were standing at the foot of Jessamine’s bed. She lay flung upon it, her chest rising and fal ing slowly like the famous Sleeping Beauty waxwork of Madame du Barry. Her fair hair was scattered on the pil ow, and a large, bloody welt ran across her forehead. Each of her wrists was tied to a post of the bed. “Our Sophie?”

 

Tessa glanced over at Sophie, who was sitting in a chair by the door. Her head was down, and she was staring at her hands. She studiously avoided looking at Tessa or Wil .

 

“Yes,” Tessa said, “and do stop repeating it.”

 

“I think I may be in love with you, Sophie,” said Wil . “Marriage could be on the cards.”

 

Sophie whimpered.

 

“Stop it,” Tessa hissed. “I think you’re frightening the poor girl more than she’s already frightened.”

 

“What’s to be frightened of? Jessamine? It looks like Sophie won that little altercation easily.” Wil was having trouble repressing a grin. “Sophie, my dear, there is nothing to worry about. Many’s the time I have wanted to hit Jessamine over the head myself. No one could blame you.”

 

“She’s afraid Charlotte wil sack her,” said Tessa.

 

“For hitting Jessamine?” Wil relented. “Tess, if this invitation is what it looks like, and Jessamine is truly meeting your brother in secret, she may have betrayed us al . Not to mention, what is Benedict Lightwood doing, throwing parties that none of us know about? Parties to which Nate is invited? What Sophie did was heroic. Charlotte wil thank her.”

 

At that, Sophie lifted her head. “Do you think so?”

 

“I know it,” said Wil . For a moment he and Sophie looked at each other steadily across the room. Sophie looked away first, but if Tessa was not mistaken, there had been—for the first time—no dislike in her eyes when she’d gazed at Wil .

 

From his belt Wil drew his stele. He sat down on the bed beside Jessamine and gently brushed aside her hair. Tessa bit her lip, restraining the impulse to ask him what he was doing.

 

He laid his stele against Jessamine’s throat and quickly sketched two runes. “An iratze,” he said, without Tessa’s having to ask. “That is, a healing rune, and a Sleep Now rune. This should keep her quiet at least until morning. Your skil with a hand mirror is to be admired, Sophie, but your knot making could be improved.”

 

Sophie muttered something under her breath in response. The suspension of her dislike of Wil appeared to be over.

 

“The question,” said Wil , “is what to do now.”

 

“We must tel Charlotte—”

 

“No,” Wil said firmly. “We must not.”

 

Tessa looked at him in astonishment. “Why not?”

 

“Two reasons,” said Wil . “First, she would be duty-bound to tel the Clave, and if Benedict Lightwood is hosting this bal , I would make a fair guess that some of his fol owers wil be there. But they might not al be. If the Clave is warned, they may be able to get word to him before anyone can arrive to observe what is truly going on. Second, the bal began an hour ago. We do not know when Nate wil arrive, seeking Jessamine, and if he does not see her, he may wel depart. He is the best connection to Mortmain we have. We do not have any time to lose or waste, and waking Charlotte to tel her of this wil do both.”

 

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