Chain of Gold (The Last Hours #1) - Cassandra Clare Page 0,37

the stories about her. If Anna chose to sit with her, Cordelia could not be seen as dull.

Anna sank gracefully to her knees, reaching into the basket to retrieve a bottle of ginger beer. “I suppose,” she said, “we have not been officially introduced. But after the drama of last evening, I feel as if I know you.”

“After hearing about you from Lucie for so many years, I feel as if I know you.”

“I see you have ranged your food about you like a fortress,” Anna said. “Very wise. I think of each social occasion as a battle to be entered, myself. And I always wear my armor.” She crossed her legs at the ankle, showing her knee-high boots to advantage.

“And I always bring my sword.” Cordelia tapped the hilt of Cortana, currently half-concealed beneath a fold of blanket.

“Ah, the famous Cortana.” Anna’s eyes sparkled. “A sword that bears no runes, yet can kill demons, they say. Is that true?”

Cordelia nodded proudly. “My father slew the great demon Yanluo with it. They say the blade of Cortana can cut through anything.”

“That sounds very useful.” Anna touched the hilt lightly and withdrew her hand. “How are you finding London?”

“Honestly? It is overwhelming. I have spent most of my life traveling, and in London I only know James and Lucie.”

Anna smiled like a sphinx. “But you brought enough food to provision an army.” She cocked her head to the side. “I’d like to invite you to tea at my flat, Cordelia Carstairs. There are some matters we should discuss.”

Cordelia was stunned. What could glamorous Anna Lightwood possibly have to discuss with her? The thought crossed her mind that perhaps it had to do with her father, but before she could ask, Anna’s face lit up and she began waving at two approaching figures.

Cordelia turned to see Anna’s brother Christopher and Thomas Lightwood picking their way along the edge of the lake. Thomas towered over Christopher, who appeared to be chatting to him amiably, the sun glinting off his spectacles.

Anna’s smile took on a curl at the edges. “Christopher! Thomas! Over here!”

Cordelia plastered on a bright smile as they came closer. “Do come say hello,” she said. “I’ve lemon tartlets, and ginger beer, if you like.”

The boys glanced at each other. A moment later they were settling onto the blanket, Christopher nearly upsetting the picnic basket. Thomas was more careful with his long arms and legs, as if nervous he might knock something over. He wasn’t beautiful like James, but he would certainly suit a lot of girls. As for Christopher, his fine-boned resemblance to Anna was even clearer up close.

“I see why you called for our help,” Thomas said, his hazel eyes sparkling as he took in the picnic spread. “It would be staggeringly difficult for you to consume all this by yourselves. Best to call in the reserves.”

Christopher snagged a lemon tart. “Thomas used to be able to clear out our larder in an hour—and the eating contests he had with Lucie, I shudder to report them.”

“I may have heard a bit about that,” said Cordelia. Thomas adores ginger beer, Lucie had told her once, and Christopher is obsessed with lemon tarts. She hid a smile. “I know we’ve met before on occasion, but now that I’m officially in London, I hope that we’ll become friends.”

“Absolutely certainly,” said Christopher, “especially if there will be more lemon tarts in the offing.”

“I doubt she carries them everywhere with her, Kit,” said Thomas, “stuffed into her hats and whatnot.”

“I keep them in my weapons belt instead of seraph blades,” said Cordelia, and both boys laughed.

“How is Barbara, Thomas?” asked Anna, as she picked up an apple. “Is she well after last night?”

“She seems quite recovered,” Thomas said, gesturing to where Barbara was walking down by the lake with Oliver. She was twirling a bright blue parasol and chatting animatedly. Thomas bit into a meat pie.

“If you were a truly dedicated brother, you would be at her side,” Anna said. “I would hope that if I collapsed, Christopher would weep inconsolably and be incapable of consuming meat pies.”

“Barbara doesn’t want me near her,” Thomas said, unperturbed. “She’s hoping Oliver will propose.”

“Is she?” said Anna, her dark eyebrows winging upward in amusement.

“Alastair!” Cordelia called. “Do come eat! The food is vanishing!”

But her brother—who was not, Cordelia noticed, chatting with boys from the Academy, but was standing alone by the lakeside—only cast her a glance that indicated that she was tiresome.

“Ah,” said Thomas, in a slightly too