The Ragpicker King (The Chronicles of Castellane, #2)

by Cassandra Clare

Montfaucon, in purple moiré silk, was moving through the crowd, clearly in his element: greeting some, snubbing others. Since it was his own guest list, Kel could only assume Montfaucon had invited them in order to snub them, which did seem like something he would enjoy.

“Not to mention,” said Ji-An, examining her nails—currently painted a foxglove violet that matched her coat, “if he had not decided to involve himself in a life of crime and blowing up boats, nothing would have happened to him in the first place.” “You’re involved in a life of crime,” Kel pointed out. “Yes, but I know what I’m doing. It’s not for amateurs, now, is it?”