Chain of Gold (The Last Hours #1) - Cassandra Clare Page 0,219

affair, with chest-high railings; it had not existed when his father was a young man but had been added during the refurbishments to the Institute. Both his parents had a fondness for balconies.

It was almost like being up on the roof and far away, but being outside was not having its usual calming effect on him. The air tasted like London, as it always did, and he could see, in the distance, the shapes of houses rising up against the gap of the Thames. He thought of its deep brown-black waters, the color of the smoke in Belial’s realm. His stiff white shirtfront scratched against the stone of the balcony as he leaned forward, wishing he could ease the pressure on his chest.

It was not that he was dreading marrying Cordelia. He was not dreading it, and he wondered if he ought to be. When he thought of marriage to her, he imagined a warm room, a fire in the grate, a chessboard or a pack of cards laid out. Fog pressing against the windows, but the light inside the room gleaming off rows of books in English and Persian. He thought of her soft voice as he fell asleep, reading to him in a language he did not yet know.

He told himself he was being a fool. It would be awkward and strange, a peculiar dance they would do for each other’s sakes to last out the year until they would be free. Still, when he closed his eyes—

“James.”

He knew who she was before he turned around; he always knew her voice. Grace stood behind him, half in shadow, the French doors closing behind her. Through them he could see golden banners and hear music.

“Magnus Bane has got the piano working somehow,” Grace said in her low voice, “and people are dancing.”

James gripped the stone railing of the balcony, staring out toward the city. He had not seen Grace since the Enclave meeting, nor had he sent her any kind of message. It would have felt disloyal to Cordelia. “It is probably better if we don’t speak to each other, you know.”

“This may be our only chance to speak alone again,” Grace said. When he did not reply, she said, with a catch in her voice, “It seems the Angel does not want us to be together, doesn’t it? First I could not break things off with Charles because of my mother. Then, the moment I was free of her, you became engaged to Cordelia.”

“Do not say her name,” James said, startling even himself with his vehemence. He bowed his head, tasting rain and metal. “She is the kindest person—”

“I know what she did for you, James,” said Grace quietly. “I know you weren’t with her that night. You were in Idris, burning down Blackthorn Manor. I know she told that lie to shield you. I wouldn’t have thought she had such cunning in her, really.”

“It is not cunning. It is generosity,” said James. “A waste of a year of her life on a marriage she cannot want, just to protect me.”

“A year?” said Grace. “Is that the arrangement between you?”

“I will not discuss this with you,” James said. His chest hurt as if it were being compressed. He could barely get enough air.

“You must hate me,” Grace said, “if all this is to protect you from the consequences of what I asked you to do.”

“I do not blame you, Grace. But we cannot be friends. It will make it harder than it already is.”

There was a pause. She was in shadow, but he had seen her in the ballroom, in her green dress with emeralds in her ears. He had recognized the earrings. They had been Charlotte’s. She must have given them to Charles as a gift for Grace.

“I am glad you will have Cordelia,” Grace said.

“I wish I could say the same to you about Charles,” said James. “Cordelia deserves better than this; I will do everything I can in this next year to make her happy. I hope Charles does the same for you.”

“I could be with you in a year,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “A long engagement with Charles, you divorce Cordelia—it could be done.”

James said nothing. The tightness in his chest had become pain. He felt as if he were being torn in two, brutally and literally.

“James?” Grace said.

He fought back the words: Yes, wait for me, I will wait for you. Grace. I remember the forest, the shadows, your ivory

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