“I had no idea you were so domestic,” Cordelia said, sinking gratefully onto the sofa. Rest and warmth were bliss. She set the book she’d been carrying on the end table and reached for an apple. “Is this another inherited secret power?”
“No, just the result of providing food for the Merry Thieves. I got used to scrounging from the kitchen at the Institute. Christopher would starve if you didn’t remind him to eat, and Thomas is so enormous he needs to be fed every few hours, like a captive tiger.” He tore off a bit of bread. “I hope Thomas is managing with Alastair.”
“Alastair will sit in a corner and read. It’s what he always does when things are awkward,” said Cordelia. “I do feel awful not telling my mother what’s really happened, but what good would it do? She needs to rest and be calm.”
“It is hard to keep secrets,” James said. “Both for those who do not know the truth, but also those who keep them. Daisy…” He hesitated. “I’d like to ask you something.”
When he said her name that way, she wanted to give him everything and anything he wanted. “Yes?”
“Tonight, in Nelson Square, I heard what the Hauras demon said to you. You have wielded Cortana before, many times. Even against Belial. But no demon called you ‘paladin’ then.”
Cordelia lowered her hand with the apple in it. She’d been hoping he hadn’t heard. “That isn’t precisely a question.”
“No,” he said. “But I saw the way you were fighting—you have always been incredible with Cortana, but tonight you were different. Like nothing I’ve seen before.” There was no Mask hiding his expression; it was open and clear. “If something has changed with you, you needn’t tell me. But I would like it if you did.”
She set her apple aside. “Do you know what a paladin is?”
“Yes,” he said, “though from history class alone. In the time of Jonathan Shadowhunter, when I gather it was easier to meet a god or an angel, one might swear fealty to such a being to increase one’s power and nobility. So goes the story.”
“And all the stories are true,” Cordelia said. She told him of her meeting with Wayland the Smith, of the change that came over the landscape, the clang of the forge, his words, the oath she had sworn. James watched her intently as she spoke.
“I did not know what effect the pledge would have,” she finished. “But—I have never felt before what I did tonight, battling the Naga demon. It was like a bronze-gold light came down over me, was in me, burning up my veins, making me want to fight. And those demons fled from me.”
“？‘Bronze gleamed around him like flashing fire or the rays of the rising sun,’？” quoted James with a smile. “It was rather like Achilles had come to South London.”
Cordelia felt a small, warm spark in her chest. For all the glory of fighting as a paladin, she had felt oddly invisible, separated from the others by a peculiar space. But James had seen her. “Still,” he added. “It is such a great oath, Daisy. To be sworn to a being like Wayland the Smith—he could call upon you at any time, demand you face any danger.”
“As you are doing tonight? I want to be called upon, James. I have always wanted this.”
“To be a hero,” James said, and hesitated. “Cordelia, have you told—”
A knock echoed throughout the house. A moment later Effie appeared, looking furious in a nightcap and paper curlers. She ushered Magnus into the room, muttering. He wore a caped greatcoat of blue velvet, and next to Effie, looked taller than ever.
“Magnus Bane here to see you,” said Effie darkly, “and I must say, this is not at all the class of person I was led to believe I would be working for, not at all.”
Calmly, Magnus doffed his coat and handed it to her expectantly. She stalked off, muttering about going back to sleep with a flannel wrapped around her head to block out the “unending clatter.”
Magnus looked inquiringly at James and Cordelia. “Do you always keep a staff that insults you?”
“I prefer it,” said James, rising to his feet. He had his revolver stuck through his belt, Cordelia realized. After what had happened in Nelson Square, perhaps he didn’t want to be caught without it again. “It keeps me on my toes.”
“Would you like some tea?” Cordelia asked Magnus.
“No. We ought to get started. Hypatia will be expecting me back.” Magnus looked around the study, his eyes flicking over the windows; he gestured once with his fingers, and the curtains flew shut. “This room is as good as any, I suppose. Cordelia, can you guard the door?”