Chain of Thorns (The Last Hours, #3)

“A wall,” Lucie finished. They were in its shadow now, looking up. It rose perhaps thirty feet in the air, a construction of smooth gray stone that stretched in either direction as far as she could see. There were no other buildings or ruins to be seen: what Lucie had thought were towers were the wall’s battlements high above. It was completely smooth, dashing any thought of climbing it. They would have to find a way through.

They began to pace the length of the wall, heading away from the sun, which hung halfway to the horizon now, searing across the level sand. It didn’t take them long to find a gate: an elaborate carved arch that opened into the dark interior of the wall.

There was something Lucie didn’t like about that darkness. It felt cave-like, and she realized they had no idea how thick the wall was. They could be walking into a tunnel, or any sort of trap. Sand blew across the entrance, dimming the interior even further.

Yet she could still feel Idumea, pulling at her even harder now, telling her she had to pass this wall and keep going. She took a hand axe from her weapons belt and glanced over at Cordelia, who had drawn Cortana. The golden sword glinted in the harsh sun. “All right,” she said. “Let’s see if we can get through.”

They ducked through the archway and found themselves in a stone-sided corridor with a barrel roof. As they walked, the packed sand floor gave way to more stone. They were in a tunnel that bored through the wall, illuminated on the inside by a spongy, phosphorescent moss that clung to the walls. Lucie moved closer to Cordelia—the air was cold, and the smell of damp stone bitter. Lucie thought she could hear water trickling somewhere and recalled what Lilith had said about the water of Edom being poison.

Cordelia tapped her shoulder lightly. “Something’s glowing,” she said. “Up ahead.”

For a moment, Lucie let herself hope it was the end of the tunnel, the far side of the wall. Even the sandblasted desert of Edom seemed preferable to the tunnel. But as they drew closer and the glow intensified, the tunnel widened around them, expanding into a stone chamber filled with tallow candles: they were stuck in every crack and crevice, filling the space with flickering light.

Within a pentagram formed of dark red gems sat an oversized throne of black obsidian, on which squatted a scaly blue creature, lizard-tailed, with a downturned, froglike mouth and yellow-orange eyes. Hovering beside the throne, in midair, was a massive skull—not human or animal, but demon, with holes for far too many eyes, and threaded through those holes were a dozen black, oily tentacles. Each tentacle gripped a long silver feather, with which the skull fanned the blue demon on the throne.

“Oh my,” the demon said, in a surprisingly high-pitched voice. “Nephilim. How unexpected.” It shifted, and Lucie saw that in one clawed hand it held what seemed to be a bunch of grapes. “Welcome to my court. I am here to collect a toll from all who wish to pass the Wall of Kadesh.”

What court? Lucie wondered. Other than the skull, and it didn’t seem particularly alive, there seemed to be no courtiers here, no real place for a court, if there was one, to assemble. All she could see was a peculiar variety of sun-bleached bones, long and white, stuck into the ground at odd intervals.

“What kind of toll?” Cordelia asked. She hadn’t lifted Cortana, but she was gripping the hilt tightly.

“The kind that will please me,” said the demon, plucking a grape from the bunch he held and popping it into his gaping mouth. Lucie was quite sure she heard the grape scream in terror as it was eaten. “I am Carbas, Dux Operti. I am a collector of secrets. Long ago, Lilith gave me leave to set up my court here so that I may collect them from travelers passing by.”

Cordelia and Lucie exchanged looks: Did Duke Carbas know that Lilith was gone, and Belial had taken her place as ruler of Edom? If he never left this spot, perhaps he didn’t; either way, Lucie wasn’t inclined to tell him.

“You collect secrets from passing demons?” Cordelia said.

“I didn’t think demons had secrets,” Lucie mused. “I thought they’d be proud of all the evil they did.”

“Oh, they are,” said Carbas. “Which makes it a very boring job. ‘Oh, I saved a kitten from a Ravener demon, Carbas, and I’m so ashamed.’ ‘Oh, I failed to turn anyone toward the dark side last week, Carbas.’ Whine, whine, complain. But you, Nephilim, with all your morals—you will have juicy secrets.”

He popped another grape into his mouth. This one definitely screamed.

“What happens,” said Lucie, “if we try to pass through without telling you a secret?”

Carbas leered coldly. “Then you will find yourself trapped in this tunnel, and soon enough will become a member of my court.” He gestured at the bones jutting from the ground, which began to vibrate. “We’d all like that, wouldn’t we?” He chuckled. “New blood, as it were.”

Trapped in the tunnel. Lucie tried not to look worried: dying in battle was one thing. Being trapped in this dank, demon-haunted tunnel until they died was something else.

“So please,” Carbas went on, grinning wetly, “whenever you’re ready, a secret from each of you. It must be something you have told no one else, something you wish no one to know. Otherwise, it is worth nothing to me. And I will be able to tell if you are making something up. You must tell a secret from the heart,” he added, somehow making the phrase “from the heart” sound vicious. “One that means something to tell.”

“These rules seem vague,” said Cordelia. “And subjective.”

“That’s magic for you.” Carbas shrugged.

Lucie and Cordelia exchanged a look. They could try to attack Carbas, of course, but that would mean stepping into the pentagram with him, a deeply risky choice. Yet the thought of offering up her most hidden thoughts to Carbas, to snack on as he did the grapes, felt violating and cruel.

It was Cordelia who stepped forward first. “I have a secret,” she said. “It isn’t something nobody knows, but it is something Lucie doesn’t know.” She looked over at Lucie, her eyes pleading. Lucie bit her lip. “And that’s what matters, isn’t it?”

“Mmm. I’m interested,” Carbas said. “Let’s hear it.”

“I’m in love with James Herondale,” Cordelia said. “Lucie’s brother.”

“Well, of course you are,” Lucie said, before clamping her mouth shut.

Carbas rolled his eyes. “Not off to a great start.”

“No,” Cordelia said, a little desperately, “you don’t understand. I didn’t just fall in love with him when I came to London, or when we got married. I’ve been in love with him for… for years,” she went on. “Ever since he had the scalding fever.”

That long ago? The thought jolted Lucie. But…

“I never told you about it, Lucie. Every time you mentioned him, I would lie about how I felt, or make a joke. When you suggested that I might entertain romantic thoughts about James, I would act like it was the most ridiculous idea on earth. When we got engaged, I acted as if I couldn’t wait for it to be over. I didn’t want to be pitied, and I didn’t want to be just another of the silly girls who was in love with your brother while he only cared about Grace. So I lied to you.” She took a deep breath. “It’s like you said at my house that night, Lucie. I was too proud.”

But you could have told me. I would never have pitied you, Lucie thought, bewildered. She didn’t mind that Cordelia had been in love with James—but the lying, the hiding… she wished it didn’t bother her, but it did. She looked away from Cordelia—and saw Carbas on his throne, smacking his lips.

“Not bad,” he murmured. “Not terrible.” His yellowish eyes slid over to Lucie. “Now what about you?”

Lucie stepped forward, taking Cordelia’s place before the throne. She didn’t look at Daisy as she did so; if she hadn’t known this important thing about her best friend, had she ever really known her at all? Had Cordelia ever really trusted her?

She told herself to stop, that this was what Carbas wanted. Their pain. His amber demon’s eyes were already fixed on her with anticipatory delight. “I have a secret,” she said. “One nobody knows.”

“Ooh,” said Carbas.

“When Cordelia and I tried to practice our parabatai ceremony,” she said, “I couldn’t go through with it. I didn’t tell her why. I pretended as if nothing had happened, but that—that wasn’t true at all.” She glanced over her shoulder at Cordelia, who was holding Cortana so tightly her knuckles were white. “When we began to speak the words,” Lucie said, “the room filled with ghosts. Ghosts of Shadowhunters, though none I knew. I could see them everywhere, and they were staring at us. Usually I can understand the dead, but—I didn’t know what they wanted. Did they disapprove of my creating a bond to someone living? Or did they want me to do it? I thought—what if going through with it bonded you, too, to the dead?”