“Shakespeare,” said Alastair. “That’s from Hamlet. Not the Maurice part, clearly, but the rest.”
Will looked surprised, then amused. He turned to Thomas. “Tom,” he said gently. “I know this has been rotten, but I was suspected of all sorts of shenanigans when I was your age. Once the word gets out about you being tried by the Sword, the Enclave will forget all about this. I promise.” He paused. “Now, I see no need for further use of the Sword—”
“It is not your decision!” the Inquisitor roared.
The Institute rocked beneath their feet. Thomas looked around in disbelief as candelabras crashed to the ground around them and chairs toppled over. A thin crack splintered the floor underfoot as Alastair started toward Thomas—then froze, seeming uncertain. Bridgestock was clinging to a pillar, eyes wide. Will had pulled Charlotte to him and was keeping her steady, his arm around her shoulder as he gazed around, brow furrowed.
The tremors ceased.
“What—？” Bridgestock gasped, but there was no one to hear him: the other Shadowhunters had exploded into motion and were racing out the door.
* * *
Anna strode a little more forcefully than was strictly necessary, making Ariadne struggle to keep up with her long-legged stride as they crossed over Waterloo Bridge. The tower of the Institute loomed high across the river, dark against the lightening sky.
She was halfway across the bridge before she realized she was alone. Turning, she saw Ariadne standing some yards back, her hands on her hips. Ariadne had very pretty hips, curving into a neat waist, and her legs—as Anna had cause to know—were well-shaped. She even had attractive feet, which she had currently planted on the pavement, unmoving.
“I cannot walk as fast as you do,” Ariadne said. “But I will not race to keep up. It is undignified. If you’d prefer to go alone, you merely need say so.”
Even at this early hour, there was traffic on the bridge—clerks hurrying to work, costermonger carts on the way to the morning market at Covent Garden, milk vans rattling with bottles—but as Ariadne and Anna were glamoured, no one stopped to stare.
I have been running away from you for two years. Why should I stop now? Anna thought. Though if she had to admit it to herself, she’d been doing a poor job of running these past few weeks.
She gave a little mocking half bow but stayed where she was; in a few moments, Ariadne had caught up with her, and they made their way across the bridge together. The sky was beginning to turn copper-blue in the east. The wind tugged at Ariadne’s dark hair. Anna had always thought that when it was unbound, it looked like a storm cloud.
“It’s odd,” Ariadne said. “Now that we have this information about Jesse Blackthorn, what do we do with it?”
“Nothing at the moment,” said Anna. “Lucie wants to tell Grace first.”
It was the last thing Lucie had said, an urgent request as she’d swung into a hansom cab, saying she desperately needed to get back to the Institute before Aunt Cecily noticed she was gone. Anna and Ariadne still had to finish their patrol; they were headed back to the Institute now, Anna determined to see if anything new had developed with Thomas.
“I’m rather surprised they’re friends,” said Ariadne. “I’ve never known Grace to have a plan to meet anyone, or a friend to visit at the house. She’s a sort of ghost when Charles isn’t about.”
Anna was not entirely sure Lucie and Grace were friends. It was not in Lucie’s nature to befriend someone who’d caused her brother grief. On the other hand, Lucie was always telling herself stories in which she was the heroine of grand adventures. Investigating the slightly romantic mystery of a boy’s death certainly fell into that category.
They had reached the Victoria Embankment, which ran along the north side of the Thames. The wind off the river was bitter here, and Anna shivered. “Hopefully Grace won’t be troubling you for too much longer,” she said. “Eventually Charles will have to return from Paris and marry her.”
Ariadne laughed softly. “Everyone thinks I should scorn Grace. For the insult of taking up with my former betrothed. But it was actually my idea to take her in.”
“It was?” Anna was curious despite herself.
Ariadne shrugged. “I didn’t want to marry Charles, you know. You would know. Better than anyone.”
Anna didn’t reply. Perhaps you didn’t want to, she thought. But you agreed to marry him, knowing it would break my heart. Knowing you would never love him. I would never have done such a thing.