Chain of Thorns (The Last Hours, #3)

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.”

Lucie caught her breath. “You don’t know that. Or are you saying you don’t want to be parabatai with me, even if you break your bond with Lilith?”

“Oh, Lucie,” Cordelia said in despair. “It’s like you don’t live in the real world. You live in a world of stories. The beautiful Cordelia, who can do anything she likes. But in the real world, we don’t get everything we want. Maybe—we shouldn’t.”

In that moment, Cordelia saw Lucie’s heart break. Her whole face crumpled, and she turned away, as if she could hide her reaction from Cordelia, but it was in every line of her shaking shoulders, her arms wrapping around herself as if she could hold in the hurt.

“Luce.” Cordelia’s voice shook. “I didn’t—”

But Lucie had darted to the window. She threw it open and practically hurled herself outside. Cordelia cried out and jumped to her feet, racing to follow her—Lucie should not be climbing about on icy rooftops, not in the state she was in—but when she reached the window, she saw only darkness outside, and the swirling snow.



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