Chain of Gold (The Last Hours #1) - Cassandra Clare Page 0,34

without Lucie. This was not how he would have chosen to present himself for one of their rare moments alone. He was half under his covers, shifting around restlessly, unable to get comfortable. His face was flushed with fever and his nightshirt clung to him, wet with sweat.

He took a breath to speak and broke into a pained cough. “Water?”

Cordelia hurried to pour him a glass from the carafe on the nightstand. She tried to press it into his hand, but he couldn’t grip it. She slid her hand behind his neck, warm against his skin, supporting him as she held the glass to his lips.

He flopped back on the pillows, his eyes closed. “Please tell me you’ve had scalding fever before.”

“Yes. My mother has too,” she said. “And the mundane servants are immune. Everyone else has gone. You should have some more water.”

“Is that the treatment?”

“No,” said Cordelia, “the treatment is a grayish concoction made by Brother Enoch, and I suggest you hold your nose when you try to get it down. It will help with the fever, but apparently there’s nothing else for it but time. I brought books,” she added. “They’re over on top of the chest of drawers. I… I could read to you.”

James flinched at the light but forced himself to look at Cordelia. Tendrils of her deep red hair curled against her cheekbones. They reminded him of the curlicues cut into the surface of his Uncle Jem’s beautiful violin.

He flicked his eyes over to the chest of drawers where, indeed, a surprisingly tall pile of books rested that had not been there before. She gave an apologetic smile. “I wasn’t sure what you might like, so I just took things from all over the house. There’s a copy of A Tale of Two Cities with the second half missing, so maybe it’s only a tale of one city. And a collection of poetry by Byron, but it’s a bit nibbled around the edges, I think by mice, so it might be theirs. Otherwise it’s Persian literature. There aren’t even Shadowhunter books around. Oh, except one copy of a book on demons. I think it’s called Demons, Demons, Demons.”

James let his eyes close again but allowed himself a smile. “I’ve read that one,” he said. “My father is a great admirer of it. You probably don’t even have the newest version, which adds a fourth ‘Demons.’ ”

“As ever, the London Institute’s library puts ours to shame,” said Cordelia, and then Sona came in and stopped short, surprised to see her.

“Cordelia,” she said with what James hoped was mock surprise. “Really? Alone in a boy’s bedroom?”

“Mâmân, he can barely sit up, and I am a trained warrior who wields a mythical sword.”

“Mmm,” said Sona, and waved her out. She descended on James with, she explained, her own remedies from home: pastes and poultices of frankincense, of marigold and haoma.

“I’d like it,” James said, “if Cordelia would come back and read to me later. If she wants to.”

“Mmm,” said Sona again, dabbing his brow with a compress.

* * *

Cordelia did come back, and she did read to James. And then she returned again and read again, and again. He was too fevered to track the passage of time. Sometimes it was dark outside and sometimes light. When he was awake, he ate what he could, and drank a little water, and forced down some of Enoch’s loathsome potion. Sometimes his fever would break for a time, and then he would grow overwarm and sweat through his clothes; sometimes it was as though a bitter cold wind tore through his body and no number of blankets or logs in the fireplace would help. Through it all was Cordelia, quietly reading, occasionally reaching out to wipe his brow or refill his water glass.

She read him the poems of Nizami, and especially the story of Layla and Majnun, one she clearly loved and had known since she was very small. Her cheeks grew unexpectedly red at the more romantic parts: the poor boy falling in love with the beautiful Layla on first sight, wandering mad in the desert when they were separated.

“ ‘  That heart’s delight, one single glance his nerves to frenzy wrought, one single glance bewildered every thought. He gazed upon her, and as he gazed, love conquered both. They never dreamed to part.’  ”

She glanced at James and then quickly glanced away. James started. Had he been staring? He was not entirely aware of his own behavior.

“ ‘  The killing witchery that lies,