Chain of Thorns (The Last Hours, #3)

“Not right this moment,” Tessa said. “Sometimes people just need to be by themselves. Poor Tatiana,” she added, to James’s surprise. “I can’t help but wonder if Belial simply took what he wanted from her, all these years, and when he was done, left her to die.”


James wondered if Tessa would still think “poor Tatiana” if she knew what Tatiana had wrought on her own son through Grace. What would she think of how James felt now—the acid burn of bitterness in his throat, the terrible sense of near pleasure in Tatiana’s suffering, which shamed him even as he felt it?

He grabbed for his empty wrist with his hand and held it. No matter how much he wished, he could not tell his parents about the bracelet. His mother always thought the best of everyone, and looking at her face, full of compassionate concern for a loathsome woman who had only ever wished her ill, he could not bring himself to ruin that.





13 ANGELS ALONE




Stone walls do not a prison make,

Nor iron bars a cage:

Minds innocent and quiet take

That for an hermitage.

If I have freedom in my love,

And in my soul am free,

Angels alone, that soar above,

Enjoy such liberty.

—Richard Lovelace, “To Althea, from Prison”



Cordelia squinted at the page in the fading candlelight.

She was tucked up in her bed in Cornwall Gardens, under the eaves, reading some of the paladin books Christopher had given her. The soft thump of snowdrifts against the roof made the room feel cozier, but it still didn’t feel like home. Rather like a room in the house of a kind relative that one was visiting.

Cordelia was not unaware that she hadn’t entirely unpacked—not her clothes from Paris, and not the things James had sent over to her from Curzon Street. She was living in a sort of limbo, not quite here or there, a space where she did not yet have to make a firm decision.

She wondered a bit about the baby, soon to be born. Not too soon, she hoped. Not while she, its big sister, was undecided about every aspect of her life—and worse, while she was cursed to be a demon’s paladin. She turned back to her book—in the combined light of the fire and the taper on her nightstand, she could just make out the words.

The words were not encouraging. Most paladins wanted to be paladins and would never seek to break the bond with their masters. There was much a paladin could do that seemed appealing: fight harder, jump higher, survive wounds that would kill another. She had even found an account of a paladin who had stabbed his friend due to a case of mistaken identity, but was then able to magically heal him with his “paladin’s blade,” all of which seemed unlikely—what did that even mean, healed him with his blade? But it was only an anecdote, sandwiched between another one in which a single paladin had defeated an advancing army, and yet another in which two parabatai had become paladins together.

Thump, went the snow at her window. It almost sounded like a bird hitting the glass. She couldn’t help but remember when Matthew had tumbled through her window in orange spats, bearing alarming insights. This may be a false marriage, he’d said, but you’re truly in love with James.

She thought of James, and what he’d said that night, about following her to Waterloo; the thought that he’d been on the train platform was nearly too much to bear—

Thump. This time louder, more insistent. Thump, thump, thump, and the window came open, along with a puff of white snow. Cordelia bolted up in bed, dropping her book, about to shout for Alastair, when she realized that the person clambering through her window, all snowy boots and undone brown hair, was Lucie.

She sat back down on her bed, speechless, as Lucie shut the window behind her and hurried over to the fire. She wore a heavy cloak over gear, and her hair had come out of its fastenings and was halfway down her back, threaded with strings of ice.

“Lucie,” Cordelia said, finding her voice, “you must be freezing. What on earth are you doing coming through the window? Risa would have let you up—you could have used the front door—”

“I didn’t want to,” Lucie said crossly. She was holding out her hands to the fire, letting the heat turn the white tips of her fingers back to pink.

“Well, come here, then,” Cordelia said. “I can’t wield a weapon, but I can still manage a stele. You could use a Heat rune—”

Lucie whirled around. Her hair flew dramatically as she said, “Things cannot go on as they have been.”

Cordelia was fairly sure she knew what Lucie meant. Still, she said, “What do you mean?”

“When you married James,” Lucie said, “I thought it would bring us closer together. But it has driven us further apart.”

“Lucie.” Cordelia clasped her hands in her lap. She felt underdressed—Lucie was in gear, and here she was in a nightgown with a slightly ragged hem and her hair in plaits. “The distance between us—it’s not James’s fault. It’s not the fault of our marriage—”

“You don’t think so? Cordelia, he’s breaking his heart over you. He’s so miserable—”

“Well, I suppose it could cause discord,” Cordelia said coldly, “if you take a side. I know you adore your brother. I also know you’re aware that he’s been in love with Grace Blackthorn until last week. And this is exactly the kind of conversation we should not be having. I don’t want to hurt James, but I don’t want to be hurt myself, either, and James only feels guilty—”

“It’s not just guilt,” Lucie protested. “I know the difference—”

“Did you know the difference when you chose to secretly befriend Grace behind my back, and never tell me about it at all?”

It was most likely the harshest thing Cordelia had ever said to her best friend. Lucie looked shocked.

“I did it to save Jesse,” Lucie said in a whisper.

“I know what it’s like to be in love,” said Cordelia. “You think I wouldn’t have understood? You didn’t trust me.”

“What I was doing,” Lucie fumbled, “it was so forbidden, so dreadful, I didn’t want to pull you into any of the trouble I’d be in if I was found out.”

“Nonsense,” Cordelia said. “You wanted to do what you were doing and not have me fuss at you about Grace.” Some part of her seemed to have detached itself and was watching in horror as she struck at Lucie with words like knives, intended to slice and cut. Part of her felt a sort of desperate relief that as much as she had been hurt, she no longer had to hold it in—she could say: You hurt me. You never thought about me at all, and that hurts the most.

“Parabatai are supposed to tell each other everything,” Cordelia said. “When I was in the worst trouble of my life, finding I was sworn to Lilith, I told you.”

“No, you didn’t,” said Lucie. “I found out when you did. You couldn’t have hidden it.”

“I told you the whole story—”

“Oh, really?” Lucie’s blue eyes filled with tears. Cordelia had hardly ever seen her cry, but she was crying now, and yet she sounded furious. “We’re supposed to tell each other everything? Well, I have a few questions for you about the fact that the moment my brother came looking for me in Cornwall, you ran off to Paris with his best friend! You never said anything to me about Matthew—”

“That,” said Cordelia in a voice as cold as the snow outside, “is not exactly the order of events as they took place. And your brother is not blameless, but I will leave it to him to tell you how that night unfolded.”

“I don’t know what you think he did,” said Lucie, dashing her tears away with her hands. “But I know how he looks. Like he wants to die without you. And you expect me to believe you ran off with Matthew in a purely friendly way, and nothing romantic passed between you?”

“And you would blame me if it did?” Cordelia felt a white fire of rage and pain blaze up under her ribs, nearly choking off her breath. “Do you know what it’s like to be in a marriage that’s a lie, where you’re the only person who feels anything? James never felt a thing for me—he never looked at me the way Matthew has—he was too busy looking at Grace, your new best friend. Why don’t you ask him if he kissed Grace while we were married? Better, why don’t you ask him how many times he kissed Grace while we were married?”

“You’re still married.” Lucie was shaking her head. “And—I don’t believe you.”

“Then you’re calling me a liar. And perhaps that is the distance between us. It is the same as the distance between myself and James. It has a name: Grace Blackthorn.”

“I didn’t know how much my working with her would hurt you,” Lucie said. “I doubt James knew either. You never let on that you felt anything for him. You—you’re so proud, Cordelia.”

Cordelia raised her chin. “Maybe I am. What does it matter? We aren’t going to be parabatai after all, so we don’t need to know each other’s secrets. That’s not in our future.”