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There is no better distraction in this world than losing oneself in books for a while.”
If he had to choose between a long life of peace and happiness and another five minutes like the ones he’d spent with Cordelia in the Whispering Room, he dared not guess what he would choose.
James, you are not defined by this—by this blood in you. I have found no trace, no hint of who your grandfather is, and I advised Jem to cease looking. It does not matter. You are who you are, made by the sum of your choices and actions. Not a teaspoon of demon’s blood.”
“We thought it best to be prepared,” said James. “Besides, I know you did much more risky things when you were my age.” “It’s dreadful the way you keep throwing that in my face,” said Will.
Will Herondale having children just like him is delightful. Karma is rough, isn't it Will?
“You would have done it for Jem, Papa, when you were parabatai.” Will leaned back against a post of the bed. “You aren’t parabatai with Cordelia yet.” “It isn’t just for boys to risk their lives for each other,” Lucie said fiercely.
RIDE OR DIE AND SMASHING THE PATRIARCHY
“It was amazing the way you charged at that demon, absolutely capital,” said Christopher. “I really thought you had him in your sights, until you fell into the river, that is.”
“Have you heard of the death of a thousand cuts?” Cordelia replied. “I always preferred the death of a thousand cats, in which one is buried under kittens,” said Matthew.
This is the most Taylor Swift thing I've ever heard
She thought of the secrets people kept and the way they were like scars or wounds beneath the skin. You could not always see them, but if you touched on them in the wrong way, you could cause great pain.
“I wish I knew more Persian,” said James. He sank into one of the armchairs. “I would like to thank you in it, Daisy, for saving my life and risking your own. And for helping us as you have, especially when no one you know is ill.
The fire in the grate had nearly burned down. Alastair’s eyes were luminous in the dark. “I have my own weaknesses, as you well know.” “Love is not a weakness, Alastair dâdâsh,” she said, and for a moment she saw Alastair hesitate at the use of the Persian word.
“Could I have a moment to speak with Jesse alone?” “Alone?” Jessamine looked horrified. “But he’s a gentleman. In your bedroom.” “I am a ghost,” said Jesse dryly. “What is it exactly you imagine I might do?”
There is something unusual about you, Lucie. You have a power that is tied to the dead.” Lucie sighed. “If only I could have had a power that was tied to bread-and-butter pudding.”
From that night on, an impassable chasm opened between Matthew and the whole world. None of them knew it, but he was cut off from them forever in all the ways that mattered. But that was as it should be, Matthew thought. After all, he had committed murder.
MATTHEW FAIRCHILD MY BELOVED NO
“I believe Christopher is hard at work on the antidote. I am assisting by providing witty observations and trenchant commentary.”
Sona smiled at her—a weary, worried smile, the smile of so many Shadowhunter parents down through the ages who had watched their children march into the night, carrying blades blessed by angels, knowing they might never return. “Layla, my daughter. You can wear mine.”
Thomas was silent for a long moment. James didn’t move. His gaze was fixed on his friend. It was a look Cordelia couldn’t describe—a quiet intensity mixed with immovable conviction. This was James at his best, she thought. His faith in his friends was unwavering: it was strength, and they shared that strength between them.
All the stories might be true, she thought, but it would be awfully nice if such obvious signals were on offer for her own destiny.
“The point of stories is not that they are objectively true, but that the soul of the story is truer than reality. Those who mock fiction do so because they fear the truth.”
“Christopher,” said James, and Cordelia remembered with horror the way Christopher had clutched at James in the sickroom, gripping his wrist. “I know he didn’t mean to.” His mouth twisted into a painful smile. “No one tell him. He’d be so upset.”
These boys are going to kill me.
He thought of James, of Lucie and Matthew. Of Cordelia. None of them would have a moment’s hesitation about walking straight up to the front door. He thought of Christopher, dying in the Silent City. Alone in the darkness, without his friends, the poison burning through his veins. Christopher, Thomas’s cousin, and the brother of his heart.
Thomas thought of Christopher—shy, clever Christopher—and the years and years of quiet determination that had made him an expert at what he did, respected by Henry, far more capable than he was ever given credit for.
“Someone once told me that we need to stand back and let people do what they’re good at, and Christopher is good at this. I have faith in him. This antidote will work.”
And a second path in which life continued as it was now—imperfect, confusing, but full of hope.
“You read to me,” he said. “Perhaps, now all this is over, we could read it again, together?” Reading together. Never had Cordelia heard of anything so romantic.
She heard Lucie give a short cry. “Papa!” Will broke into a run. He caught hold of his daughter and swept her into his arms. Tessa ran to James, dropping down to kneel beside him and fuss over his bruises and cuts. Gabriel and Cecily followed, and soon Lucie and James were surrounded, being embraced and scolded in equal measure.
“I have faith in Thomas.” “You do?” said Cordelia. “I didn’t think you even knew him that well.” Alastair hesitated. “I watched him make it,” he said finally. They had reached the Carstairs carriage now, with its design of castle towers on the door. Many more carriages lined the curb beside it. “Because he had such faith in Christopher, he had faith in himself. I never quite thought of friendship like that—as something that makes you more than you are.”
You must slow down. Pay attention to your feet. Now, follow my gestures. That’s it, Layla. Stay with me.” And she would.
“Not Cordelia,” she said. “It is Grace Blackthorn.” It was Matthew’s turn to bolt into a sitting position. “Oh no,” he said. “No, no. Send her away. Tell her there’s a rat infestation. Tell her that vague, insidious behavior has been made illegal in the Institute and she’s not allowed in.”
Once her beauty had shaken him like a storm. Now, seeing her, he felt only a great weariness—a bleary exhaustion, as if he had drunk too much the night before. He wished she were not here. Not because it hurt him to look at her, but because it didn’t. He had thought of himself as someone who loved more deeply than that.
Was it strange for Will, she wondered, to be aging and have Jem remain in appearance still a boy? Or when you loved someone, did you not notice these things, just as her parents saw no difference between themselves?
Do not dwell too much on death. Lucie means light. Look to the day, not the night.
“You let me be something I had never been before, even when I was living. A Shadowhunter. You let me be part of what you did. I never thought I would again be given the chance to make a difference.” “You made every difference,” Lucie said.
Do not be sorry, Lucie. You brought light into my lightless world, and for that I am grateful.”
She and Alastair were certainly a pair, weren’t they, Cordelia thought. Miserable in love.
“Matthew, you may speak however badly of yourself as you like, but it does not make it true. You decide the truth about yourself. No one else. And the choice about what kind of person you will be is yours alone.”
“I am completely out of patience. The bank of patience is exhausted! I am not even being extended any patience on credit! You and I and Cordelia are going home, and once home, I will berate you at enormous length. Prepare yourself.”
It was only in stories that heroes were rewarded; in real life, acts of heroism went unrewarded, or were punished, and the world turned on as it always had. He might be angry, but he was safe. She wasn’t sorry.
“The cruel will always spread rumors,” she said. “And others who take pleasure in that cruelty will believe them and spread them. But I believe that in the end, truth wins out. Besides,” she added with a smile, “the most interesting women are always the most whispered about.”
“I haven’t seen you since the meeting. I came by your house, but Risa indicated that you weren’t at home.” “I do not plan to be at home to you ever again,” said Alastair evenly.
YES ALASTAIR. KNOW YOUR WORTH
If you choose that for yourself, it is your choice, but you cannot choose for me.”
help. In Magnus’s life there had been a hundred Matthew Fairchilds: young men and women as self-destructive as they were beautiful, who despite all the gifts that had been given to them, seemed to wish for no more than to burn down their own lives. He told himself over and over that the Matthew Fairchilds of this world could not be saved, and yet he could not stop himself from trying.
Oh, dear, Magnus thought. I may need to linger in London a bit longer. Perhaps I should send for my cat.
