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Chain of Iron (The Last Hours #2)(42)

Author:Cassandra Clare

“Right.” He studied the board before moving a knight. “I was thinking—our best chance of success is to share everything with each other. Perhaps every night, we should each be able to ask the other a question. Something we want to know about the other, and the question must be answered truthfully.”

Cordelia felt a little short of breath. What if he asked—? No. He wouldn’t. “Or,” she said, “what if only the winner could ask a question?”

“The winner?”

“Every night we play a game,” she said, indicating the chessboard. “The winner of each game should earn something. Not money, but the right to ask something of the other.”

James tented his hands and looked at her thoughtfully. “I’ll agree on one condition. The loser gets to choose the next game. Chess, or draughts, or cards. Whatever they like.”

“Fine. I’ll match my wits with yours at any game you choose. Though I prefer chess. It was invented in Persia, you know.”

His eyes lingered on her mouth for a moment. Then he looked down, returning his focus to the board. “I hadn’t heard that.”

Cordelia examined the placement of a rook on the board. “Do you know the Shahnameh?”

“The Book of Kings,” said James. “Persian legends.”

“All the stories are true,” she reminded him. “And there is a story in the Shahnameh about two princes, Gav and Talhand. Talhand died in battle, but when they recovered his body, it had no wound on it. The queen, his mother, went mad with grief—she accused Gav of poisoning his brother, for how could a man die in battle with no injury? To convince her it was not so, the sages of the court created the game of chess, showing how the battle unfolded by moving the pieces on the board. Talhand had died of exhaustion, surrounded by enemies. From this we get the expression shah mat, meaning ‘the king is dead.’?” She quickly darted out a hand and made the move she’d been planning for most of the game, a classic epaulette mate. “Shah mat. Otherwise known as ‘checkmate.’?”

James sucked in his breath. “Bloody hell,” he said, and burst out laughing. Cordelia let herself float in that laughter for a moment—he laughed so freely very rarely, and it transformed his whole face. “Very well done, Daisy. Excellent use of distraction.”

“And now you’re trying to distract me,” she said, folding her hands demurely.

“Oh?” His gaze slid over her. “From what?”

“I won. You owe me an answer.”

He sat up straight at that, tossing back the hair that had fallen in his eyes. “Well, go ahead,” he said. “Ask me what you like.”

“Alastair,” she said immediately. “I—I want to know why everyone hates him so much.”

James’s expression didn’t change, but he took a long, slow breath. “It’s not true that everyone hates Alastair,” he said finally. “But there is bad blood between him and Matthew and Thomas. When we were all at school, Alastair was—unkind. I think you know that. He also spread a terrible rumor about Gideon and Charlotte. He wasn’t the one who started it, but he did repeat it. That rumor caused a great deal of pain, and Matthew and Thomas are not in a forgiving mood about it.”

“Oh,” Cordelia said softly. “Has Alastair—apologized? For that, for—for all of what he did at the Academy?” Oh, Alastair.

“To be fair to him, I don’t think Matthew and Thomas have given him a chance to do so,” said James. “He was not the only one who was unkind to me, to us, but—we had higher hopes of him, and I think thus a greater disappointment. I’m sorry, Daisy. I wish the answer was easier.”

“I’m glad you told me the truth. Alastair—he has always been his own worst enemy, seemingly determined to ruin his own life.”

“His life’s not ruined,” James said. “I believe in forgiveness, you know. In grace. Even for the worst things we do.” He stood up. “Shall I show you upstairs? I imagine you are as exhausted as I am.”

Upstairs. There it was. Cordelia was thrown right back into confusion as she followed James up the stairs, presumably to their bedroom. A space that belonged to just her and James, where no visitors could or would come. An intimacy she could not fathom.

All the lights were lit on the second floor. Gleaming sconces ran along a short corridor; James opened the first door, and indicated that Cordelia should follow him inside.

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