Chain of Thorns (The Last Hours, #3)

Cordelia’s heart sank. It was the sort of thank you that you’d offer to someone you didn’t know very well after they’d apologized for stepping on your foot at a party. But before she could reply—or even sit down in embarrassment; everyone seemed to be staring at them—the drawing room door flew open, and Christopher came in.

He looked as if he had run halfway across London. He was coatless, his boots and trousers splashed with icy mud, his bare hands red from the cold. His eyes, behind his glasses, were wide and stunned. Cordelia was reminded for a moment of someone else—and then realized it was Alexander, as Tatiana tormented him, his eyes full of a terrible confusion that anyone could wish to cause him pain.

“What happened?” he said, in a half whisper, and then Thomas, James, and Matthew were surging over to him, hugging him tightly, their voices overlapping as they explained that Alexander was fine, that Tatiana had been caught, that his little brother was being taken care of in the infirmary. That he would be all right.

“I just don’t understand,” Christopher said, the color coming back slowly to his face. He was clinging to Matthew’s sleeve with one hand, his shoulder touching James’s. “Why Alexander? Who would want to hurt a baby?”

“Tatiana wants to hurt us, Kit,” Tessa said. “She knows the best way to do it is through our families. It’s the worst pain she can think of to inflict. Any of us would gladly suffer in place of our children, but to have them suffer in our place is… horrifying.”

“She has been brought to the prisons of the Bone City,” said Will. His voice was cold. “So we will have ample opportunity to ask her.”

Christopher’s eyes widened. “They’re holding her in the Silent City?” he said, sounding inexplicably unhappy with this development.

Jesse appeared disturbed as well. As if he had suddenly realized something, he said sharply, “They keep the prisoners apart from each other, right? They must. She must not get near Grace.”

“They would never let that happen,” Will began, and then Cecily appeared at the door and flew to hug Christopher. “Come upstairs, darling,” she said. “Alexander is sleeping, but he might wake at any time, and he will want to see you.” She turned to Ari with a warm smile. “And Anna asks that you come as well, my dear. We would love to have you with us.”

Ari’s face lit up. She rose to her feet and joined Christopher and Cecily as they left the room. Jesse watched them go, a grim look on his face. Thinking about Grace? Cordelia wondered. Or more likely, about Tatiana, and what would happen now.

“All my life my mother has told me how much she hates you, all of you,” Jesse said. He was leaning against the wall, as if he required it to hold him up. “Now that she knows I have joined with you, fought beside you against her—she will see it as a betrayal even more profound.”

“Does it matter?” said Matthew. “She is mad; if she does not have a reason to be full of hate, she will invent one.”

“I am only thinking,” Jesse said, “she knows who I am, that I am among you. Nothing will stop her from telling the Clave once she is questioned. Perhaps I could help you, if I told the Enclave first. If I confessed who I truly am—Jesse Blackthorn—I could testify to my mother’s madness and lying, her hate for you, her need for revenge.”

“No,” James said, very gently. “That is a generous offer, considering what it would mean for you, but it would only further darken the Enclave’s view of us, if they believed Lucie had engaged in necromancy.” He held up a hand as Lucie began to protest. “I know, I know. It wasn’t necromancy. But they will not see it that way. And there is every chance Tatiana will not immediately spill the truth about you, Jesse; it reveals too many inconvenient facts about her own crimes. About her relationship with Belial.”

“Speaking of Belial,” Will said. “It is kind of you to try to spare us, Jesse, but it is past time for us to face all this, rather than leaving it hanging like a sword over our heads. We have kept this secret too long—forgetting, I think, that secrets give others power over you.”

Tessa nodded. “I wish we’d simply told everyone the moment we learned. Now we have to separate the truth from the fiction that we are in league with Belial.” She snorted, which made Cordelia smile; it was a very unladylike gesture for Tessa. “?‘In league.’ The notion is medieval and thoughtless. Is Magnus ‘in league’ with his demon parent? Is Ragnor Fell? Is Malcolm Fade? No, no, obviously no: that’s been settled business for hundreds of years.”

“At least it’s only your word against Tatiana’s,” Cordelia said, “and I think most people know her word isn’t worth very much.”

“What will happen at the meeting tomorrow, do you think?” Alastair said.

Will spread his hands. “It’s hard to say. This is exactly the kind of thing the Mortal Sword is for, and of course Tessa and I would hurry to Idris at any moment to testify to the truth. But it would be extreme even of Bridgestock to push the issue that far. I suppose it depends how much annoyance Bridgestock feels like causing us.”

Matthew groaned. “He loves causing annoyance.”

“Good gracious,” said Tessa, glancing at the clock over the mantel. “It’s one in the morning. We must all get some rest before tomorrow, which promises to be rather unpleasant.” She sighed. “Cordelia, Alastair, I shall walk you downstairs to your carriage.”

Alastair and Cordelia exchanged a glance. This was an odd offer. They could manage to find their way to the front door themselves, of course; or Will or James would be the usual ones to offer. Tessa, however, seemed firm in her resolve.

Alastair went to say something quick and quiet to Thomas. Wanting to give him a moment, Cordelia took her time putting away her ruined gloves and tying her scarf around her neck. As she dusted herself off, she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder.

It was James. The cut over his eye had mostly healed, though she thought he might have a scar through his eyebrow. It would look rather dashing, of course; that always seemed to be the way of things. “You’re right,” he said, in a low voice.

“Probably,” Cordelia said. “But—about what, exactly?”

“It was too easy,” James said. “Tatiana wanted to be caught. She snatched Alexander, ran a little distance away, and waited to be arrested. I could not for the life of me say why, however.” He hesitated. “Daisy,” he said. “The thing you said you had to do, earlier—did you do it?”

She hesitated. It felt a thousand years since she had stood in the games room with Matthew, a thousand lifetimes ago that they were all at a party together. It seemed as though she had been a different person entirely then, though only a few hours had passed.

“I did,” she said. “It was awful.”