For the first time Nate looked at her with a puzzled surprise. “We’ve been over this, Jessamine,” he said. “Tessa will be arrested for illegal possession of articles of dark magic, and sent to the Silent City. Benedict will bring her forth from there and deliver her to the Magister. It is all part of whatever bargain they struck, though what Benedict is getting from it is not clear to me yet. It must be something quite significant, or he would not be so willing to turn on his own.”
Arrested? Possession of articles of dark magic? Tessa’s head spun.
Nate’s hand slipped around the back of her neck. He was wearing gloves, but Tessa couldn’t rid herself of the feeling that something slimy was touching her skin. “My little Jessie,” he murmured. “You behave almost as if you’ve forgotten your own part in this. You did hide the Book of the White in my sister’s room as we asked you to, did you not?”
“Of—of course I did. I was only joking, Nate.”
“That’s my good girl.” He was leaning closer. He was definitely going to kiss her. It was most improper, but then nothing about this place could be considered proper. In a state of absolute horror, Tessa sputtered:
“Nate—I feel dizzy—as if I might faint. I think it’s the heat. If you could fetch me a lemonade?”
He looked down at her for a moment, his mouth tight with bottled annoyance, but Tessa knew he could not refuse. No gentleman would. He straightened up, brushed off his cuffs, and smiled. “Of course,” he said with a bow. “Let me help you to a seat first.”
She protested, but his hand was already on her elbow, guiding her toward one of the chairs lined up along the walls. He settled her into it and vanished into the crowd. She watched him go, trembling all over. Dark magic. She felt sick, and angry. She wanted to slap her brother, shake him till he told her the rest of the truth, but she knew she couldn’t.
“You must be Tessa Gray,” said a soft voice at her elbow. “You look just like your mother.”
Tessa nearly jumped out of her skin. At her side stood a tall slender woman with long, unbound hair the color of lavender petals. Her skin was a pale blue, her dress a long and floating confection of gossamer and tulle. Her feet were bare, and in between her toes were thin webs like a spider’s, a darker blue than her skin. Tessa’s hands went to her face in sudden horror—was she losing her disguise?—but the blue woman laughed.
“I didn’t mean to make you fearful of your illusion, little one. It is still in place. It is just that my kind can see through it. All this”—she gestured vaguely at Tessa’s blond hair, her white dress and pearls—“is like the vapor of a cloud, and you the sky beyond it. Did you know your mother had eyes just like yours, gray sometimes and blue at others?”
Tessa found her voice. “Who are you?”
“Oh, my kind doesn’t like to give our names, but you can call me whatever you like. You can invent a lovely name for me. Your mother used to call me Hyacinth.”
“The blue flower,” Tessa said faintly. “How did you know my mother? You don’t look any older than me—”
“After our youth, my kind does not age or die. Nor will you. Lucky girl! I hope you appreciate the service done you.”
Tessa shook her head in bewilderment. “Service? What service? Are you speaking of Mortmain? Do you know what I am?”
“Do you know what I am?”
Tessa thought of the Codex. “A faerie?” she guessed.
“And do you know what a changeling is?”
Tessa shook her head.
“Sometimes,” Hyacinth confided, dropping her voice to a whisper, “when our faerie blood has grown weak and thin, we will find our way into a human home, and take the best, the prettiest, and the plumpest child—and, quick as a wink, replace the babe with a sickly one of our own. While the human child grows tall and strong in our lands, the human family will find itself burdened with a dying creature fearful of cold iron. Our bloodline is strengthened—”
“Why bother?” Tessa demanded. “Why not just steal the human child and leave nothing in its place?”
Hyacinth’s dark blue eyes widened. “Why, because that would not be fair,” she said. “And it would breed suspicion among the mundanes. They are stupid, but there are many of them. It does not do to rouse their ire. That is when they come with iron and torches.” She shuddered.
“Just a moment,” Tessa said. “Are you telling me I’m a changeling?”
Hyacinth bubbled over with giggles. “Of course not! What a ridiculous thought!” She held her hands to her heart as she laughed, and Tessa saw that her fingers, too, were bound together with blue webbing. Suddenly she smiled, showing glittering teeth. “There’s a very good-looking boy staring over here,” she said. “As handsome as a faerie lord! I should leave you to your business.” She winked, and before Tessa could protest, Hyacinth melted back into the crowd.
Shaken, Tessa turned, expecting the “good-looking boy” to be Nate—but it was Will, leaning against the wall beside her. The moment her eyes found him, he turned and began studiously examining the dance floor. “What did that faerie woman want?”
“I don’t know,” Tessa said, exasperated. “To tell me I’m not a changeling, apparently.”
“Well, that’s good. Process of elimination.” Tessa had to admit, Will was doing a good job of somehow blending in with the dark curtains behind him, as if he were not there at all. It must have been a Shadowhunter talent. “And what news from your brother?”
She gripped her hands together, looking at the floor while she spoke. “Jessamine’s been spying for Nate all this time. I don’t know how long exactly. She’s been telling him everything. She thinks he’s in love with her.”
Will looked unsurprised. “Do you think he’s in love with her?”
“I think Nate cares only about himself,” said Tessa. “There’s worse, too. Benedict Lightwood is working for Mortmain. That is why he is scheming to get the Institute. So the Magister can have it. And have me. Nate knows all about it, of course. He doesn’t care.” Tessa looked at her hands again. Jessamine’s hands. Small and delicate in their fine white kid gloves. Oh, Nate, she thought. Aunt Harriet used to call him her blue-eyed boy.
“I expect that was before he killed her,” said Will. Only then did Tessa realize she had spoken aloud. “And there he is again,” he added, in a mutter, under his breath. Tessa glanced out at the crowd and saw Nate, his fair hair like a beacon, coming toward her. In his hand was a glass of sparkling golden liquid. She turned to tell Will to hurry away, but he had already vanished.
“Fizzy lemonade,” said Nate, coming up to her and thrusting the glass into her hand. The ice-cold sides felt good against the heat of her skin. She took a sip; despite everything, it was delicious.
Nate stroked her hair back from her forehead. “Now, you were saying,” he said. “You did hide the book in my sister’s room . . .”
“Yes, just as you told me to do,” Tessa fibbed. “She suspects nothing, of course.”
“I should hope not.”
“Nate . . .”