Chain of Gold (The Last Hours, #1)

by Cassandra Clare

“That was not love she asked for,”

“That is not love. That is a test. And love should not be tested like that.”

“I had no idea your mother liked me so much,” said James. “I should come round more often when I am in need of feeling appreciated.”

“I really do like tea!” James shouted from the bottom of the steps. “In fact, I love it! I LOVE TEA!” “Good for you, mate!” yelled the driver of a passing hansom cab.

“Why have such a handsome friend? It seems a waste,”

Will sat down beside his wife and pulled her into his lap. “I am going to kiss your mother now,” he announced. “Flee if you will, children. If not, we could play Ludo when the romance is over.” “The romance is never over,” said James glumly.

Beati Bellicosi

He was looking at her with exactly the faith he showed when he looked at Matthew, at Lucie, or at Thomas. With a total belief that she could do anything, if it was required of her to do it.

“But it would have done our bidding!” Matthew protested. “It seemed untrustworthy,” said James, wiping ichor from his face with his sleeve. His seraph blade had gone dark. “I thought he seemed all right, for a demon,” said Christopher. “You know.”

“Now you’re fiddling with a Pyxis. I see you have decided to follow in the long Herondale tradition of poor decision-making.” “So have I!” said Lucie, determined not to be left out.

“It seems that I forgot to turn my watch backward and therefore have arrived six hours early. Bloody hell.”

I am a true enthusiast of your work, Mr. Bane. Also, your personal style. Your waistcoats alone …” “Matthew, do shut up,” said Thomas. “Mr. Bane doesn’t want to talk about waistcoats.” “Untrue,” said Magnus. “I always want to talk about waistcoats.

“It’s dreadful the way you keep throwing that in my face,” said Will.

I am assisting by providing witty observations and trenchant commentary.” “I’d rather you handed me that beaker,” said Christopher, pointing. Matthew shook his head.

“‘Shades of the prison-house begin to close upon the growing Boy,’” Matthew intoned. “Coleridge.” “Wordsworth,” James corrected.

“How do you know the antidote works?” Alastair grinned in the dark. “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.”

He was gazing at a familiar crack in the ceiling that was shaped a bit like a duck. His father would be horrified.

It was possible, as a result, that Matthew was never going home.

The words “If it hadn’t been for Alastair Carstairs, everything would have been ruined,” had actually passed Thomas’s lips, causing James to wonder if he’d wandered back into the demon realm.

They had all reacted characteristically. Tessa had been practical and said that she’d been trying to find out who her father was for years, and at least now they knew. Lucie had looked shaken but said she would turn the story into a novel. Will had been angry at the world, and then gone to see Jem.

“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.” Tessa merely raised her eyebrows. “She said it was regarding an important matter.” Matthew turned to James imploringly. “Jamie. Don’t. After what she did …”

Death made unlikely neighbors.

“Then perhaps she is planning to kill Charles?” said Matthew. “Matthew, cease sounding hopeful at the prospect of homicide.”

Matthew swore. “He’s burning the house down, isn’t he?” said Cordelia. “Bloody Herondales,” said Matthew, with a sort of epic despair. “I’ll go through—” “Not alone, you won’t,” said Cordelia, and picking up the skirts of her blue frock, she leaped through the open Portal. Though

“Did you, ah …” “Burn the house down? Not purposely,” said James. His already black lashes were clogged with soot, his face streaked with black. “It coincidentally burned down while you were in it?” grumbled Matthew. “If I could explain—” “You cannot.” Matthew shook his head, scattering ash. “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.” James hid a smile. “I shall do exactly that.

An Irregular had been dispatched immediately to Lucie, which, Cordelia pointed out, was what should have been undertaken in the first place. Lucie knew how to get things done.

“I cannot believe,” she said, “that you burned down Blackthorn Manor without me!”

Besides, I’ve always wanted to burn down a house.” “I assure you,” said James, “that it is overrated.”

“I idolize him,” said Matthew sorrowfully. Lucie patted his hand. “I know.”

Certainly that explains the tragic and entirely accidental fire that destroyed Mrs. Blackthorn’s manor house.” There were yet more exclamations among the crowd. “Laying it on a bit thick, isn’t he?” Lucie murmured.

Will was grinning like a boy. “Wait until I tell Jem—” The door burst open, and Lucie spilled in. “I was just listening at the door,” she announced, with no shame whatsoever.

“How do they know about the baby?” Alastair’s eyes darted away from hers—his tell, the small sign that he was lying, which he had displayed since he was a small child. “I don’t know. Someone must have told them.”

And I have an important matter to attend to.” Cordelia leaned forward to glimpse him as he left the room. “What kind of important matter?” He ducked his head back into the room with a rare grin. “My hair,” he said, and vanished before she could ask him anything else.

Cordelia attempted another break for freedom, but Alastair was still clamped firmly onto her wrist.

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.”

Matthew set his jaw. “Do not try to make small talk, Alastair,” he said. “It gives me a headache.”

Magnus had long observed to himself that a man who brought his own drink to a party where drinks were provided was indeed in a sorry state.

She smiled a smile as false as it was bright. “I am,” she said, “a little bit happy.”

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.