Chain of Gold (The Last Hours #1) - Cassandra Clare Page 0,215

Cousin Jem. I know Mâmân wanted Father to go to the Basilias as a patient. I thought perhaps if we told the Clave of his sickness—and it is a sickness—they might let him be treated there instead of imprisoned.”

“Ah, by the Angel, Cordelia.” Alastair covered his eyes with his hands for a long moment. When he dropped them, his dark eyes were troubled. “You would have been all right with that? With everyone knowing about his drinking?”

“As I said to you before, Alastair. It is not our shame. It is his.”

Alastair sighed. “I don’t know. Father always refused to go to the Basilias. He said he disliked the Silent Brothers, but I think he was always worried they would see through him to the truth. I imagine that is why he always kept Cousin Jem away from our family.” He took a deep breath. “If what you want is for him to go to the Basilias, you should write to him and tell him so. You were the last of the family who did not know his secret. That you do now might well make a difference.”

Cordelia set her hairbrush down, relief coursing through her at last. “That is a good idea. Alastair—”

“Are you happy, Layla?” he said. He pointed to the Herondale ring on her hand. “I know that is what you wanted.”

“I thought you might be angry,” she said. “You were so furious with James when you thought he was trying to compromise me.”

“I did not think at the time that he would be willing to marry you,” Alastair said apologetically. “But he has stood up and claimed you in front of the world. That is a gesture that is meaningful. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

She almost wanted to tell Alastair the truth—that James was sacrificing more than he guessed—but she could not, any more than she could tell her mother. He would be angry; Sona would be crushed. “I have what I wanted,” she said, unable to bring herself to say that she was happy, “but what of you, Alastair? What of your happiness?”

He glanced down at his hands. When he looked back up at her, his smile was crooked. “Love is complicated,” he said. “Isn’t it?”

“I know I love you, Alastair,” Cordelia said. “I should not have eavesdropped on you and Charles. I have only ever wanted you to talk to me, not to overhear you.”

Alastair flushed and rose to his feet, avoiding her eyes. “You should sleep, Layla,” he said. “You’ve had an eventful day. And I have an important matter to attend to.”

Cordelia leaned forward to glimpse him as he left the room. “What kind of important matter?”

He ducked his head back into the room with a rare grin. “My hair,” he said, and vanished before she could ask him anything else.

23 NO ONE WHO LOVES

Let no one who loves be called altogether unhappy. Even love unreturned has its rainbow.

—J. M. Barrie, The Little Minister

Lucie could not help but be impressed, despite her conviction that it was wrong to be impressed by one’s parents. Her mother had thrown together the traditional engagement party for James and Cordelia at a moment’s notice, but it was so lovely one would have guessed she had spent weeks planning it. The ballroom was bright with festive witchlights and candles, the walls hung about with ribbons in wedding gilt. Lace-draped tables bore plates of sweets, all in the theme of yellow and gold: iced lemon pastries stuffed with cream, cut-glass dishes of crystallized fruit, bonbons in fancy gold wrappings on an epergne, yellow plum and apricot tartlets. There were tumbling arrangements of flowers in urns on pillars around the ballroom: peonies, creamy camellias, sheaves of tall yellow gladioli, sprays of mimosa, pale gold roses and daffodils. The room was full of happy people—the quarantine was over, and everyone wanted to gather and gossip and congratulate Will and Tessa on the happiness of their offspring.

Yet Tessa, even as she slipped an arm around Will’s waist and smiled at Ida Rosewain, who had arrived in a simply enormous hat, looked worried. Lucie guessed most people wouldn’t see it, but she was a trained observer of her mother’s moods, and besides—she was worried herself.

She should have been filled with delight. Her brother and her closest friend were to be married. This was a moment to be happy ever after. But she knew the truth—both James and Cordelia had told her—that the marriage was a sham, a formality to save Cordelia’s reputation.