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“The Consul. He’s—the head of the Clave? Like a sort of king?” “Not quite so inbred as your usual monarch,” said Will. “He’s elected, like the president or the prime minister.” “And the Council?” “You’ll see them soon enough.” Will pushed the doors open.
“How kind of you to join us. And Mr. Carstairs as well. And your companion must be—” “Miss Gray,” Tessa said before he could finish. “Miss Theresa Gray of New York.” A little murmur ran around the room, like the sound of a wave receding. She felt Will, next to her, tense,
Will be like: “Damn and I thought I couldn’t fall any harder for Tessa.”
ℐdola ☽ liked this
Will furious.
Sit on me please Will. I would love that
Will started to climb over the back of his chair; Jem tugged him back into his seat with main force, hissing under his breath.
Just a normal day in the life of Will and Jem 🤠
“If you’re going to chop off anyone’s foot, chop off Benedict’s,” Will muttered.
I agree, Will, she should chop of his foot. But she should also chop of his head and his dick too :)
She was going to be trained? Trained to fight, to throw knives and swing a sword? Of course, one of her favorite heroines had always been Capitola in The Hidden Hand, who could fight as well as a man—and dressed like one. But that didn’t mean she wanted to be her.
Will was glaring across the room at Gabriel Lightwood, who looked coldly in their direction.
OMG YES YES YES THE INFAMOUS RIVALRY OF WILL AND GABRIEL 🤠🤠🫡
Will seemed about to lunge off toward the whisperers to administer rough justice, but Jem had a firm grip on the back of his parabatai’s coat. Being Jem, Tessa reflected, must be a great deal like being the owner of a thoroughbred dog that liked to bite your guests. You had to have a hand on his collar constantly.
This is the most accurate thing I’ve read in AGES
“I do not. I mean, I did not. I mean—ugh! Charlotte, Will’s being vexing.” “And the sun has come up in the east,” said Jem, to no one in particular.
And for that matter, Will, you pay so little attention at lessons, can you tell a binding spell from a soufflé recipe?”
“‘I am but mad north-north-west; when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.’”
“Will, don’t quote Hamlet. Henry . . .” He cleared his throat. “HENRY.” Henry looked up, blinking. “Yes, darling?” He blinked again, looking around. “Where’s Charlotte?”
“And the sun comes up in the west,” said Will, who had apparently heard Jem’s earlier comment.
“Ah.” “Ah, what?” Jessamine demanded, looking from Will to Jem in a vexed manner. “I declare, the way you two seem to read each other’s minds gives me the shudders.” “Ah,” said Will. “Jem was just thinking, and I would tend to agree, that Mortmain’s life story is, quite simply, balderdash.
Will’s blue eyes slid lazily toward her.
I want his lazy blue eyes on me. 🧎🏼♀️🧎🏼♀️🧎🏼♀️🧎🏼♀️
“Reparations,” said Jem very suddenly, setting down the pen he was holding. Will looked at him in puzzlement. “Is this a game? We just blurt out whatever word comes next to mind? In that case mine’s ‘genuphobia.’ It means an unreasonable fear of knees.” “What’s the word for a perfectly reasonable fear of annoying idiots?” inquired Jessamine.
Again. This is why I love Will.
‘Very upset Shadowhunters refused to all die when I wanted them to. Demand recompense. Please mail cheque to A. Mortmain, 18 Kensington Road—’”
💀😭😂🤣🤣🤣🤣i love Will so so so much
Will looked from one of them to the other and pushed his chair back. “We’ve been among these moldering old books for ages,” he announced. “Mine beautiful eyes are weary, and I have paper cuts. See?” He spread his fingers wide. “I’m going for a walk.”
“Perhaps you could use an iratze to take care of them.” He glared at her. His eyes were beautiful. “Ever and always helpful, Tessa.” She matched his glare. “My only desire is to be of service.” Jem put his hand on her shoulder, his voice concerned. “Tessa, Will. I don’t think—”
yes his eyes are beautiful
But Will was gone, snatching up his coat and banging his way out of the library, with enough force to make the door frame vibrate.
Tessa’s hands shook as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. She hated that Will had this effect on her.
She knew what he thought of her. That she was nothing, worth nothing.
You couldn’t be more wrong. He thinks he’s worthless and that you are happier with Jem :/ 💔
“And what am I supposed to do while you’re gone?” Jessamine said crossly as they made their way to the door. Jem glanced back over his shoulder. “You could always wake up Henry. It looks like he’s eating paper in his sleep again, and you know how Charlotte hates that.” “Oh, bother,” said Jessamine with an exasperated sigh. “Why do I always get the silly tasks?” “Because you don’t want the serious ones,” said Jem, sounding as close to exasperated as Tessa had ever heard him. Neither of them noticed the icy look she shot them as they left the library behind and headed down the corridor.
Will looked down at his bitten nails. “I will probably be reborn as a slug that someone salts.”
“It’s been five years,” said Magnus. “Yet somehow you have managed all this time, telling no one. What desperation drove you to me, in the middle of the night, in a rainstorm? What has changed at the Institute? I can think of only one thing—and quite a pretty one, with big gray eyes—”
Will got to his feet so abruptly, he nearly tipped the divan over. “There are other things,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even. “Jem is dying.” Magnus looked at him, a cool, even stare. “He has been dying for years,” he said. “No curse laid on you could cause or repair his condition.”
Will realized his hands were shaking; he tightened them into fists. “You don’t understand—” “I know you are parabatai,” said Magnus. “I know that his death will be a great loss for you. But what I don’t know—” “You know what you need to know.” Will felt cold all over, though the room was warm and he still wore his coat. “I can pay you more, if it will make you stop asking me questions.” Magnus put his feet up on the divan...
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Developments. Curse. Truth. Jem. Dying. Tessa. Tessa, Tessa, Tessa. Her name rang in Will’s mind like the chime of a bell; he wondered if any other name on earth had such an inescapable resonance to it. She couldn’t have been named something awful, could she, like Mildred. He couldn’t imagine lying awake at night, staring up at the ceiling while invisible voices whispered “Mildred” in his ears. But Tessa—
Lol he’s down bad for Tessa 🤠💀
the others seemed not to notice, save Will, who occasionally said something unpleasant, but in an almost perfunctory way, as if it were expected of him but his heart were not in it.
The only one who could see through his ruse is Sophie
He had that look on his face, that look he usually got only when he was playing the violin, as if he were completely caught up and entranced.
Her heart hurt. He was so beautiful. She had always thought so. Most people went on about Will, how handsome he was, but she thought that Jem was a thousand times better-looking. He had the ethereal look of angels in paintings, and though she knew that the silvery color of his hair and skin was a result of the medicine he took for his illness, she couldn’t help finding it lovely too. And he was gentle, firm, and kind. The thought of his hands in her hair, stroking it back from her face, made her feel comforted, whereas usually the thought of a man, even a boy, touching her made her feel
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“It is too bad,” she said. “Someone as pretty as Jessamine ought to have her pick, but she’s so determined that a Shadowhunter won’t do—” “You are much prettier,” said Jem. Tessa looked at him in surprise, her cheeks coloring. Sophie felt the twist of jealousy in her chest again, though she agreed with Jem. Jessamine was quite traditionally pretty, a pocket Venus if ever there was one, but her habitual sour expression spoiled her charms. Tessa, though, had a warm appeal, with her rich, dark, waving hair and sea gray eyes, that grew on you the longer you knew her.
“Oh, I don’t know. I prefer to think that when they’re at home, the Silent Brothers are much like us. Playing practical jokes in the Silent City, making toasted cheese—” “I hope they play charades,” said Tessa dryly. “It would seem to take advantage of their natural talents.” Jem burst out laughing, and then they were around the corner and out of sight. Sophie sagged against the door frame. She did not think she had ever made Jem laugh like that; she didn’t think anyone had, except for Will. You had to know someone very well to make them laugh like that. She had loved him for such a long time,
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had been forced to leave the Shadowhunters to be with her. He must have been terribly in love to be willing to do it—and Tessa had never had the sense that Jem was fond of Sophie in that way at all. And then there was the matter of his illness.. . .
Tessa looked away hastily and caught Will watching them both, his blue eyes level and dark.
“Let me see,” said Will, setting down his fork. He had eaten only a very little of his food, Tessa couldn’t help noticing.
She turned her head toward him; a lock of his pale hair tickled her face. “What does it say?” she whispered. “It’s a request for recompense,” said Will, ignoring the fact that she had addressed her question to Jem. “Sent to the York Institute in 1825 in the name of Axel Hollingworth Mortmain, seeking reparations for the unjustified death of his parents, John Thaddeus and Anne Evelyn Shade, almost a decade before.”
“What’s that poem again?” Will, who had been twirling his empty teacup around his fingers, stood up straight and declaimed: “Each spake words of high disdain, And insult to his heart’s best brother—” “Oh, by the Angel, Will, do be quiet,” said Charlotte, standing up. “I must go and write a letter to Aloysius Starkweather that drips remorse and pleading. I don’t need you distracting me.” And, gathering up her skirts, she hurried from the room. “No appreciation for the arts,” Will murmured, setting his teacup down. He looked up, and Tessa realized she had been staring at him. She knew the
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My heart is melting for them 🫠🫠❤️🥺
“I assure you,” he told her, “my recall is perfect.” So is mine, she thought. This was the first time she had been alone with him in weeks. Not since that awful scene on the roof when he had intimated that he thought her little better than a prostitute, and a barren one at that. They had never mentioned the moment to each other again. They had gone on as if everything were normal, polite to each other in company, never alone together. Somehow, when they were with other people, she was able to push it to the back of her mind, forget it. But faced with Will, just Will—beautiful as always, the
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“Are you going to take Coleridge back from me, or shall I just stand here forever in this rather foolish position?” Silently Tessa reached out and took the book from him. “If you wish to use the library,” she said, preparing to depart, “you most certainly may. I found what I was looking for, and as it grows late—” “Tessa,” he said, holding out a hand to stop her. She looked at him, wishing she could ask him to go back to calling her Miss Gray. Just the way he said her name undid her, loosened something tight and knotted underneath her rib cage, making her breathless. She wished he wouldn’t use
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I think you may have to accept that we are quite far apart on the matter of reading material, as we are on so many things, and find your recommendations elsewhere, Mr. Herondale.”
“Mr. Herondale?” he demanded. “Tessa, I thought . . .?” “You thought what?” Her tone was glacial. “That we could at least talk about books.”
Awwwwwee
