“I haven’t the vaguest idea. You are mistaken if you think he made me his confidant.”
“Yes,” said Will, “you two don’t seem to have much in common, save a penchant for demon women and evil.”
“Will!” snapped Tessa.
“I didn’t mean you,” said Will, looking surprised. “I meant the Pandemonium Club—”
“If you are quite done with your byplay,” said Benedict, “I wish to make one thing very clear to my son. Gideon, understand that if you support Charlotte Branwell in this, you will no longer be welcome under my roof. It is not for nothing that they say a man should never hang all his bells on one horse.”
In answer Gideon raised his hands in front of him, almost as if he meant to pray. But Shadowhunters did not pray, and Tessa realized quickly what he was doing—slipping the silver ring from his finger. The ring that was like Jem’s Carstairs ring, only this one had a pattern of flames about the band. The Lightwood family ring. He set it down on the edge of his father’s desk, and turned to his brother.
“Gabriel,” he said. “Will you come with me?”
Gabriel’s green eyes were brilliant with anger. “You know I cannot.”
“Yes, you can.” Gideon held his hand out to his brother. Benedict stared between the two of them. He had paled slightly, as if suddenly realizing that he might lose not just one son, but both. His hand gripped the edge of the desk, his knuckles whitening. Tessa could not help staring at the expanse of the wrist that was revealed as his sleeve rose. It was very pale, banded with black circular striations. Something about the sight nauseated her, and she rose from her seat. Will, beside her, was already standing. Only Charlotte was still sitting, as prim and expressionless as ever.
“Gabriel, please,” Gideon said. “Come with me.”
“Who will take care of father? What will people say about our family if we both abandon him?” Gabriel said, bitterness and desperation coloring his tone. “Who will manage the estates, the Council seat—”
“I don’t know,” said Gideon. “But it does not need to be you. The Law—”
Gabriel’s voice shook. “Family before Law, Gideon.” His eyes locked with his brother’s for a moment; then he looked away, chewing his lip, and went to stand behind Benedict, his hand on the back of his father’s chair.
Benedict smiled; in this one thing, at least, he was triumphant. Charlotte rose to her feet, her chin held high. “I trust we will see you tomorrow, in the Council chamber, Benedict. I trust you will know what to do,” she said, and swept from the room, Gideon and Tessa on her heels. Only Will hesitated a moment, in the doorway, his eyes on Gabriel, but when the other boy did not look at him, he shrugged at last and went out after the others, shutting the door behind him.
They rode back to the Institute in silence, rain lashing against the windows of the carriage. Charlotte attempted several times to speak to Gideon, but he was silent, staring at the blurred view of streets as they rolled by. Tessa could not tell if he was angry, or regretted his actions, or might even be relieved. He was as impassive as always, even as Charlotte explained to him that there would always be a room for him at the Institute, and that they could hardly express their gratitude for what he had done. At last, as they rattled down the Strand, he said, “I had really thought Gabriel would come with me. Once he knew about Mortmain . . .”
“He does not understand yet,” said Charlotte. “Give him time.”
“How did you know?” Will looked at Gideon keenly. “We only just discovered what happened to your mother. And Sophie said you had no idea—”
“I had Cyril deliver two notes,” said Charlotte. “One for Benedict and one for Gideon.”
“He slipped it into my hand while my father was not looking,” Gideon said. “I had only just time to read it before you came in.”
“And you chose to believe it?” Tessa said. “So quickly?”
Gideon looked toward the rain-washed window. His jaw was set in a hard line. “Father’s story about Mother’s death never made sense to me. This made sense.”
Crowded into the damp carriage, with Gideon only a few feet from her, Tessa felt the oddest urge to reach out to him, to tell him that she too had had a brother whom she had loved and had lost to what was worse than death, that she understood. She could see now what Sophie liked in him—the vulnerability under the impassive countenance, the solid honesty beneath the handsome bones of his face.
She said nothing, however, sensing it would not be welcome. Will, meanwhile, sat beside her, a bundle of coiled energy. Every once in a while she would catch a flash of blue as he looked at her, or the edge of a smile—a surprisingly sweet smile, something like giddiness, which she had never associated with Will before. It was as if he were sharing a private joke with her, only she was not entirely sure she knew what that joke was. Still, she felt his tension so keenly that her own calm, or what there was of it, was entirely cut up by the time they finally reached the Institute and Cyril—soaked to the skin, but friendly as always—came around the carriage to open the doors.
He helped Charlotte out first, and then Tessa, and then Will was beside her, having jumped down from the carriage and narrowly skirted a puddle. It had stopped raining. Will glanced up at the sky and took hold of Tessa’s arm. “Come along,” he whispered, steering her toward the front door of the Institute.
Tessa glanced back over her shoulder, to where Charlotte stood at the foot of the steps, having succeeded, it seemed, in finally getting Gideon to speak to her. She was gesturing animatedly, using her hands.
“We ought to wait for them, oughtn’t we—,” Tessa began.
Will shook his dark head determinedly. “Charlotte will be blathering at him for ages about what room he wants to stay in, and how grateful she is for his help, and all I want is to talk to you.”
Tessa stared at him as they entered the Institute. Will wanted to talk to her. He had said so before, true, but to speak so straightforwardly was very unlike him.
A thought seized her. Had Jem told him of their engagement? Was he angry, thinking her not worthy of his friend? But when would Jem have had a chance? Perhaps while she was dressing—but, then, Will did not look angry.
“I can’t wait to tell Jem about our meeting,” he said as they mounted the stairs. “He’ll never believe that scene—for Gideon to turn on his father like that! It’s one thing to tell secrets to Sophie, another to renounce your whole allegiance to your family. Yet he cast away his family ring.”
“It is as you said,” Tessa said as they turned at the top of the stairs and made their way down the corridor. Will’s gloved hand was warm on her arm. “Gideon’s in love with Sophie. People will do anything for love.”
Will looked at her as if her words had jolted him, then smiled, that same maddeningly sweet smile he had given her in the carriage. “Amazing, isn’t it?”
Tessa made as if to answer, but they had reached the drawing room. It was bright inside; the witchlight torches were high, and there was a fire in the grate. The curtains were drawn back, showing squares of leaden sky. Tessa took off her hat and gloves and was just laying them on a small Moroccan table when she saw that Will, who had followed her in, was drawing closed the bolt on the door.