Chain of Gold (The Last Hours, #1)

by Cassandra Clare

“When it comes to a woman’s reputation, if she is suspected, she is guilty. That is the way the world works. I knew they would believe I was guilty, and now, no matter what we say, they’ll never believe I was innocent.

He could not make the world fair, any more than she could. 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.

“I also do not want a situation in which my husband is unfaithful to me,” Cordelia said. “I will not marry you and turn some blind eye to whatever you do, James. I would rather be alone and scorned, and you would rather be free—” “Daisy,” James said. “I would never, ever do that to you. When I make a promise, I keep it.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand what you’re proposing—” “A year,” he said rapidly. “Give me a year to make things right. Let us be married and live together as friends. We are exceptionally compatible, Daisy. It might well be a great deal of fun. I promise I will be better breakfast-table company than Alastair.”

“You wish to save such things for the true marriage you will find after this. Love will find you, Daisy. It is only a year.” “Yes,” she said. “Only a year.” He drew off the Herondale ring, with its pattern of soaring birds. She held out her hand, and James slid it onto her finger without hesitation. Cordelia watched as he did it, watched the fall of his long lashes against his cheek, like black ink against a white page. Love will find you. Love had found her years ago, and now, and every day since she had first seen James in London. You don’t love me, he’d said to her. He had no idea. He never would.

James held up a hand. “Father, I understand why you are angry, but—” “James.” Will snapped the word like a whip. There was more than anger in his eyes, though—there was a deep hurt that made Cordelia want to cringe. She could only imagine the pain James was feeling. “I can’t express how disappointed Tessa and I are in you. We have taught you better than this, both in how you treat women, and in how you own up to your mistakes.” “Oh, Layla,” Sona said. Her gaze was bleak. “Che kar kardi?” What have you done?

“Father,” said James. “Mother. Mrs. Carstairs. I will hear anything you have to say, and apologize for all that I have done wrong, but first let me present to you my promised wife.” The three adults exchanged surprised glances. “You mean…” Tessa began. James smiled. He actually looked quite happy, Cordelia thought, but she could sense the Mask going up again, like a sheet of glass. She saw the way Tessa looked at James and wondered if she sensed it too. “Cordelia has done me the honor of agreeing to marry me.” Cordelia held out her hand, on which the Herondale ring gleamed. “We are both,” she said, “very happy, and we hope you will be happy too.” She glanced at her mother. To her surprise, Sona’s eyes were troubled. But I did as you wished, Mâmân, she cried out silently. I made a good marriage. Both Will and Tessa were looking at Sona, as if waiting for her reaction. Cordelia’s mother exhaled slowly and straightened, her dark eyes passing from Cordelia to James. “Cheshmet roshan,” she said, and inclined her head toward Will and Tessa. “I have given my blessing.” A broad smile spread across Will’s face. “Then we have no choice but to give our blessing too. Cordelia Carstairs,” he said, “the Carstairs and the Herondales will be bonded even more closely now. If James could have chosen his wife from all the women in all the worlds that are or ever were, I would wish for no other.” Tessa laughed. “Will! You cannot compliment our new daughter only on the chance of her last name!...

“But he has stood up and claimed you in front of the world. That is a gesture that is meaningful. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Perhaps life was not like books. Perhaps life was never going to be like that.

He did smile at her whenever he looked at her—that lovely smile that seemed to say she was a miracle or a revelation. But it didn’t help; James had a good heart, that was all. He didn’t love her, and that would not change.

“We have raised a fine son, my darling,” Will said, kissing Tessa on the cheek. He glanced over at Cordelia and smiled. “And we could ask for no lovelier girl to be his wife.”

Doesn’t matter what a Carstairs does, Will will always be loving them

Tessa laid a gentle hand on Cordelia’s shoulder. “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.”

It was not that he was dreading marrying Cordelia. He was not dreading it, and he wondered if he ought to be. When he thought of marriage to her, he imagined a warm room, a fire in the grate, a chessboard or a pack of cards laid out. Fog pressing against the windows, but the light inside the room gleaming off rows of books in English and Persian. He thought of her soft voice as he fell asleep, reading to him in a language he did not yet know. He told himself he was being a fool. It would be awkward and strange, a peculiar dance they would do for each other’s sakes to last out the year until they would be free.

Hopeless love was a dreadful state. Perhaps she could talk the girl out of it.

Will had come out onto the dance floor; everyone was all smiles as he cut in to dance with Cordelia. Poor Cordelia, Anna thought: it was a Shadowhunter tradition to dance with a prospective bride for good luck. Cordelia wouldn’t get a moment to herself. She looked happy enough to be dancing with her future father-in-law,

I think that romantic love is the cause of all the pain and suffering in this world.”

“You don’t mind dancing with an old man like myself?” Will said, expertly turning Cordelia about the floor. She smiled. Will did not have the air of an old man about him—there was something of a boy’s mischief in the way he smiled. Strange that neither Jem nor Tessa had aged since the Clockwork War, yet both seemed older and more serious than Will Herondale did. “Not at all,” she said. “For many years, when we were growing up, both Alastair and I wished we saw more of you and Mrs. Herondale. We thought of you as an aunt and uncle of sorts.” “Now that you will be so close, and we will in truth be family, many opportunities present themselves,” said Will. “A celebration party, perhaps, when your father comes home.” Cordelia blanched. She was sure her father would want nothing of the kind; he would want to forget he had ever been away, because he would not wish to remember why. Will ducked his head to look at her more closely. “Or we can always arrange nothing, if you prefer. Nothing is my favorite thing to arrange. It takes so little effort.” Cordelia smiled wanly. Will sighed. “I joke around a great deal,” he said. “It is one way in which I manage life in a complex world. But I sense you are not entirely happy about your father coming home.” “It is, as you say, complex,” said Cordelia. She was faintly aware that the other dancers were looking at them, probably wondering what they were discussing so intently. “I loved my father when I was a child,” said Will. “I thought he w...

He thought he recalled James having muttered about some other girl to him the first time they’d met, but Romeo himself had once thought himself in love with a girl named Rosalind. It was clear from the way James and Cordelia looked at each other that this was a love match. It was also clear why Matthew was standing where he was—from this vantage point, there was a perfect view of James and Cordelia, his dark head bent over her fiery one, their faces close together.

Matthew spoke in a low voice. “It would be one thing if James loved her. I would go into the quiet dark like Jem did and never speak of her again. But he doesn’t love her.” “What?” Magnus was unpleasantly startled. “This is a false marriage,” said Matthew. “It’s only for a year.” Magnus tucked the information away as a mystery to be solved: it did not go along with what he knew of the Herondales, father or son. “And yet,” Magnus said, “during that year, they are man and wife.” Matthew looked up, his green eyes flashing. “And during that year, I will do nothing. What kind of person do you think I am?” “I think,” said Magnus, very slowly, “that you are a person who is incredibly sad, although I don’t know why. And I think that, as an immortal, I can tell you that a great deal can happen in a year.” Matthew did not reply. He was watching Cordelia and James. Everyone in the room was. They were dancing close together, and Magnus would have cheerfully bet a thousand pounds that they were in love. A bet, it seemed, he would have lost. And yet. Oh, dear, Magnus thought. I may need to linger in London a bit longer. Perhaps I should send for my cat.

It was as if no time had passed since Cordelia’s first ball in London, and yet everything had changed. She felt a million miles from the anxious girl who had come to London desperate to make friends and allies, who had seen in every face a stranger. Now she had friends—a richness of friends: she could see Anna, at the entrance to the ballroom, speaking cheerfully to Christopher. There was Thomas, seated with his sister, and Matthew, beside Magnus Bane. And Lucie, her Lucie, who would one day stand with her in the blazing circles of the parabatai ceremony. “Daisy,” said James, with a smile. It was a real smile, though she could not quite tell if he was happy or sad or something in between. “What are you thinking?” One thing had not changed: her heart still beat too fast when she danced with James.

James was looking at her with a gentle, puzzling tenderness, the Mask entirely gone now. He drew her closer to him. “We must think of this as an adventure, Daisy.” She could feel his heart beat against her own. “Think of what as an adventure?” “Being married,” James said fiercely. “I know you gave up a great deal for me, and I never want you to regret it. We will live together as the best of friends. I will help you train for your parabatai ceremony. I will defend and support you, always. You need never be lonely. I will always be there.” His lips brushed her cheek. “Remember how well we did in the Whispering Room,” James whispered, and she shivered at the feeling of his warm breath against her skin. “We fooled them all.” We fooled them. So it had been as she feared, despite what he had said—and perhaps believed—at the time: it had been real to her, but not to him. A strange and bitter pleasure. “I suppose,” James said, “I am saying that I know this is an odd experience—but I hope you can be at least a little bit happy, Daisy.” His hair was tumbling over his forehead. Cordelia recalled the thousand times she had wanted to push it back from his face. This time, she did, reaching up to brush it away from his eyes. She smiled a smile as false as it was bright. “I am,” she said, “a little bit happy.” The dimple flashed in his cheek. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said, and drew her closer for the next step in the dance. She remembered the ball, when he had left her on the floor and...

So many people loved without hope of return, without the dream of a touch or a glance from the object of their affection. They pined away in silence and misery like mortals

What fate was offering her now was a year of such fruit for her table. A year of living with James and loving him might ruin her for any other love, but oh, at least she would blaze up in glory. For a year she would share his life. They would walk together, read together, eat together, and live together. They would laugh together. For a year, she would stand close to the fire and know what it was like to burn.