Chain of Gold (The Last Hours #1) - Cassandra Clare Page 0,217

particularly want to, though.”

“Matthew,” demanded Alexander darkly. Matthew was his favorite pseudo-relative. “Oscar.”

“I don’t think Oscar was invited, old chap,” said Thomas. “What with him being a dog.”

“I think you’d better go look for Matthew,” said Lucie, as Alexander appeared to be about to slump into despair. Thomas gave her a wry salute and headed into the crowd, which had only grown. Lucie saw with some delight that Magnus Bane had appeared, dressed rather like a pirate, with ruby buttons on his waistcoat and ruby jewels in his ears. He definitely raised the tone of the party.

She was halfway across the room when Charles, wobbling a bit as if he’d had too much to drink, climbed up onto a low bench and tapped his family ring against his glass. “Excuse me!” he called, as the noise in the room began to quiet. “I’ve something I’d like to say.”

* * *

The Herondales had been so immediately kind, welcoming Cordelia to their family. She did not know how to look them in the face, knowing it was all a lie. She was not Will and Tessa’s new daughter. She and James would be divorced in a year.

James was being horrifically kind too. In the time since the engagement, Cordelia had convinced herself she had somehow trapped him into marriage. She knew perfectly well that if she hadn’t thrown her reputation away to protect him, he’d be in the prisons of the Silent City. He’d been obliged to propose after that.

He did smile at her whenever he looked at her—that lovely smile that seemed to say she was a miracle or a revelation. But it didn’t help; James had a good heart, that was all. He didn’t love her, and that would not change.

To her immense shock, Alastair had been a great support through the past few days. He’d brought her tea, told her jokes, played chess with her, and generally kept her mind off things. They had talked very little about Elias’s return. She didn’t think he’d left her alone in the house at all—not even to go see Charles.

Speaking of which, Charles had climbed on a bench and was calling out that he had something to say, creating a racket that quickly got the attention of the room. Everyone looked immensely surprised, including Tessa and Will. Sona frowned, clearly thinking Charles was very rude. She didn’t know the half of it, Cordelia thought darkly.

“Let me be the first to raise a glass to the happy couple!” said Charles, doing just that. “To James Herondale and Cordelia Carstairs. I wish to add personally that James, my brother’s parabatai, has always been like a younger brother to me.”

“A younger brother he accused of vandalizing greenhouses across our fair nation,” muttered Will.

“As for Cordelia Carstairs—how to describe her?” Charles went on.

“Especially when one has not bothered to get to know her at all,” murmured James.

“She is both beautiful and fair,” said Charles, leaving Cordelia to wonder what the difference was, “as well as being brave. I am sure she will make James as happy as my lovely Grace makes me.” He smiled at Grace, who stood quietly near him, her face a mask. “That’s right. I am formally announcing my intention to wed Grace Blackthorn. You will all be invited, of course.”

Cordelia glanced over at Alastair; he was expressionless, but his hands, jammed into his pockets, were fists. James had narrowed his eyes.

Charles went on merrily. “And lastly, my thanks go out to the folk of the Enclave, who supported my actions as acting Consul through our recent troubles. I am young to have borne so much responsibility, but what could I say when duty called? Only this. I am honored by the trust of my mother, the love of my bride-to-be, and the belief of my people—”

“Thank you, Charles!” James had appeared at Charles’s side and done something rather ingenious with his feet that caused the bench Charles had been standing on to tip over. He caught Charles around the shoulder as he slid to the floor, clapping him on the back. Cordelia doubted most people in the room had noticed anything amiss. “What an excellent speech!”

Magnus Bane, looking fiendishly amused, snapped his fingers. The loops of golden ribbons dangling from the chandeliers formed the shapes of soaring herons while “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” began to play in ghostly fashion on the unmanned piano. James hustled Charles away from the bench he had clambered onto and into a crowd of well-wishers.