Chain of Iron (The Last Hours, #2)

by Cassandra Clare

Soon he would be strong enough to take on his true enemies. As he turned to leave the alley, he whispered their names under his breath. James Herondale. Cordelia Carstairs.

Rent free omg

Alastair’s gaze flicked to Matthew. “Why,” he said, “are you not even wearing a hat?” “And cover up this hair?” Matthew indicated his golden locks with a flourish. “Would you blot out the sun?”

She could have pressed Lucie on it, she supposed, but she knew she kept her own secrets from her future parabatai—she could hardly demand to know all of Lucie’s, especially about a matter as small as a locket.

Uhm

“Matthew has a habit of getting his heart broken. He seems to prefer a hopeless love.”

“I had kippers for breakfast this morning,” Thomas said sadly.

At last Matthew said, “You are right, of course; it is only perhaps that we worry that you are too honest—too good, and goodness can be a blade sharp enough to cut, you know, just as much as evil intent.”

“You went shadowy,” Matthew said, his voice low, “as if you were going to disappear, as if I’d wished you gone and you were vanishing—” James drew back enough to smooth Matthew’s hair away from his forehead. “Have you wished me gone?” he said teasingly. “No. Only I wish myself gone, sometimes,” Matthew said in a whisper, and it was that rarest of things where Matthew was concerned, an entirely true statement with no mockery or teasing or humor to be had. “Never wish that,” James said,

“Good night, my dear! Tomorrow I will be your suggenes! We will be sisters.” Cordelia looked momentarily anxious. “Only for a year.” “No,” Lucie said firmly. “Whatever happens, we will always be sisters.”

Jesse smiled a little sadly. “Would that I could make an appearance during the wedding. It is a pity. I would have liked to see you in your suggenes dress. It looked like a butterfly’s wings.”

I LOVE THEM

“You may fear what will happen if you speak your heart. You may wish to hide things because you fear hurting others. But secrets have a way of eating at relationships, Jamie. At love, at friendship—they undermine and destroy them until in the end you find you are bitterly alone with the secrets you kept.”

Oh Will :(

James prepared to greet them, he realized that he was still wearing Grace’s bracelet. Well, there was no time to remove it now. Cordelia would understand.

I need to buy a gun!!!!

“Who lit all the candles?” James said. “It must have taken them an hour.” Lucie had sidled into the chapel and was gazing around. “Honestly, James. Not the thing you should be thinking about now.

“Well, you know what they say,” said James. “All the best men are either married or Silent Brothers.”

Hell yeah

and James had thought how lucky he was, to have a parabatai who was always there for him. He could never truly fall with Matthew to hold him up.

“Jem?” Matthew nodded and indicated James’s parents: Will and Tessa were both smiling. James thought there were tears in his mother’s eyes, but it was natural to cry at weddings. “Your parents asked him if he would play. He’s outside in the courtyard. He wouldn’t come in—said Silent Brothers had no place at weddings.”

Sobbing

“We’ve come this far,” he whispered. “Don’t back out on me now.” She raised her chin, her lips grazing his. He was smiling. “I would never,” she began indignantly, but he was already kissing her. She felt the kiss, and the smile it carried, all the way down through her body and her bones. Helplessly, she caught at him, holding his shoulders. Though he kept his mouth decorously closed, his lips were incredibly soft, so soft and so warm against hers that she had to bite back a soft moan.

Cordelia saw Lucie smile at her—and then Matthew’s face, grim and set. His expression jolted her.

“Fine. I’ll match my wits with yours at any game you choose. Though I prefer chess. It was invented in Persia, you know.” His eyes lingered on her mouth for a moment. Then he looked down, returning his focus to the board. “I hadn’t heard that.”

“Do you know the Shahnameh?” “The Book of Kings,” said James. “Persian legends.” “All the stories are true,” she reminded him.

and that she thought her best feature was her hair. (James had only smiled at this, and when she tried to make him tell her what he was thinking of, he waved it away.)

James mimed a whistle. “Indeed. Much to be said on that topic, but for the moment—” He turned to Cordelia. “Mrs. Herondale, would you do me the honor of dancing the first waltz with me?” Cordelia looked at him in surprise. “But husbands aren’t supposed to—I mean, they don’t dance with their wives.” “Well, this one does,” said James, and whirled her away across the floor.

"Mrs. Herondale" i am SCREAMING

in the study at Chiswick Manor, was an aletheia crystal, a faceted stone, enchanted to preserve a person’s memories. Grace would have thought that families would use such magic to record joyful events, but this one contained a short, grisly scene in which one Annabel Blackthorn, who had lived a hundred years ago, was tortured by the Inquisitor for consorting with a Downworlder and sentenced to be exiled to the Adamant Citadel.

He recalled, when he was a boy and the whole family had gathered in the drawing room, seeing an expression on his father’s face that James always thought of as the Quiet Look. Will’s blue gaze would travel over his wife—tracing every line of her as if he were memorizing her all over again—and then his children, and a look of happiness that was sharp and gentle at the same time would come over his face.

Will living his best life

“No one need be alone to settle themselves,” said James quietly. “All I want for you, Math, is that you love yourself as much as I love you.” Matthew took a shaking breath. “Cordelia doesn’t mind you coming to my flat?” “She suggested it. She loves you too,” James said, and glanced up at the sky. Dark, snow-laden clouds were rolling in, obscuring the blue. He did not see Matthew close his eyes and swallow hard.

she had been distantly surprised to find that James was beside her. He had been absolutely insistent on coming to the Silent City, though she had told him it wasn’t necessary. “Only family need go,” she told him, and he had said, “Daisy, I am family.” In the carriage, he had murmured words of condolence in Persian: Ghame akharetoon basheh. May this be your last sorrow.

Cordelia tugged her covers up; it felt very odd indeed to be sitting in front of Matthew in her nightgown. “Were you really out there listening?” “Yes, and you might have been quicker about sending your brother off. I was freezing.”

“James wasn’t at home?” “I suspect he was having a wander. He likes to walk about when he feels troubled—apparently Uncle Will used to do the same thing,”

“What do you mean?” He raised his head. His eyes were very green in the dim light. “I mean,” he said, “this may be a false marriage, but you’re truly in love with James.”

“Is that why you are so very sad?” Cordelia said. Matthew was silent. “I did not know,” he said, after a moment, “that I seemed sad, to you.”

Matthew let his head fall back. He stared at the ceiling as he said, “It wasn’t a truth potion at all, though I suppose you could have guessed that. Whatever it was, it was poison, and… my mother was pregnant. I didn’t know it, of course, but whatever I gave her, it caused her agony, and she—she lost the baby.”

“As do I,” he said, a deep ache in his voice. “You think I do not want to live again, truly? To walk with you by the river, hand in hand in the sunlight?

James gave the ghost of a smile. “I have faith in you, Daisy. And there is one more thing I must tell you.” He squared his jaw, as if he were steeling himself for something. “I kissed Grace today.”

I hate her !!!

“Get on top of me,” he said, his voice barely recognizable to his own ears.

OKAYYYY

His breath hitched. “Miss Highsmith,” he said urgently. “It’s Thomas—Thomas Lightwood. Who did this to you?” She tightened her grip on his lapels, pulling him closer with surprising strength. “He did,” she whispered. “But he was dead, dead in his prime. His wife… she wept and wept. I remember her tears.” Her eyes fixed on Thomas’s. “Perhaps there is no forgiveness.”

It had worked better than she had ever imagined. So well she knew it could easily have gone on, have tumbled over the edge of restraint into territory that was unknown, irrevocable. And though she had wanted that, she had been the one to pull away in the end, to put a stop to it. Because you know it would be the end of you, whispered a small voice in the back of her mind. Because if you fell even a little more in love with him, the fall would break you.

“Jamie bach.” Matthew dug his fingers into James’s shoulders. “It’s me. Look at me. Wake up.” James’s eyes focused slowly. “Perhaps there is no forgiveness,” he whispered, his voice oddly hollow.

“So you dreamed,” said Matthew. He was looking at James, and there was such affection in his voice that it broke Cordelia’s heart cleanly in half.

James, already kneeling, laid his head on Thomas’s knee for a moment. He could hear Christopher and Thomas breathing, sense their worry; he felt Thomas’s hand rough against his hair—Thomas was trying to comfort him, James realized, though Thomas was the one in trouble. These are my brothers, he thought, all around me; I would do anything for them.

“I’ve been following Thomas for days. I knew he was going out on these insane night patrols by himself, and I wanted to make sure that he was safe. Cordelia is fond of him.” “You’re the one who’s been following me?” Thomas said, astonished. “You knew someone was following you?” Matthew demanded. “And you didn’t say anything? Thomas!”

didn’t invite Grace over. She appeared at my door and demanded to talk to me. I cannot even recall why I kissed her, or if I even bloody wanted to—” Matthew gave James an odd look—more than odd; it seemed as if he were trying to make sense of something he could not quite remember.

Your passions have been a series of dalliances and ill-conceived attachments. Look at me and tell me there is someone you love more than that bottle in your hand.”

Malcolm filled the bowl of his pipe with tobacco and tamped it down gently. “I will not help you. Necromancy is inherently evil, and notoriously difficult.

Rich coming from YOU

He pressed his cheek against hers, chanting her name, Daisy, Daisy, Daisy.

“You were always my secret,” said Thomas softly, and Alastair turned a startled gaze on him.

I LOVE THEM

Daisy.

Cordelia.

And there were hands on his shoulders, and they were hers, Cordelia’s, and she said, in a voice of absolute determination: “He is not yours. He is mine. He is mine.”

“I thought of you,” he said again, “and it was as if you were there, with me. I saw your face. Your hair…” He wound a finger through a dangling curl beside her face. She could feel the warmth from his hand against her cheek. “And I was no longer afraid. I knew I would be able to come home, because of you.

You are my constant star, Daisy.”

He lifted her face gently. “I only want to know one thing,” he said. “Did you mean it, what you said?” “Mean what?” “What you said in the shadow realm,” he murmured. “That I was yours.”