Chain of Iron

“Right this way, sir,” James said, and mouthed games room at Alastair, who nodded. Sona had sunk back into her chair; Cordelia hurried after the boys, who were heading for the double doors at the other end of the room. She kept her gaze fixed straight ahead as she went—surely everyone was staring, though she could hear Will and Gabriel chatting loudly, their voices raised, doing their best to distract the guests.

James and Alastair had already disappeared with Elias. She slipped through the double doors after them and found herself in the narrow hallway outside the games room. It was a relief to be alone, if only for a moment; she leaned against the wall, saying a quiet prayer to Raziel. I know I don’t deserve it, but please give me strength.

Voices rose from behind the games room door. She paused; did James and Alastair not realize she’d followed them?

“I suppose,” said Alastair, “that you and your friends will have a great laugh about this later.” He sounded defeated, rather than angry. As bothered as Cordelia often was by Alastair’s stubbornness, the fight being drained from him was worse.

“No one blames you for your father, Alastair,” she heard James respond. “Only for what you yourself have done and said.”

“I have tried to apologize, and to change,” Alastair said, and even through the door Cordelia could hear his voice shake. “How can I make amends for my past when no one will let me?”

When James replied, there was real kindness in his voice. “You must give people time, Alastair,” he said. “We are none of us perfect, and no one expects perfection. But when you have hurt people, you must allow them their anger. Otherwise it will only become another thing you have tried to take away.”

Alastair seemed to hesitate. “James,” he said. “Does he—”

There was a sharp sound, as of something being knocked off a table, and then the familiar noises of Elias retching. Cordelia could hear Alastair telling James to go, that he would manage it. Not sure what else to do, Cordelia made her way soundlessly back to the ballroom.

The wedding luncheon was back in full swing. Glancing around, she saw that the Merry Thieves had all left their table. They were making their way up and down the room, greeting people, fielding congratulations for her and James. Matthew and Anna had a group of guests in fits of laughter; Will was regaling another table with a lengthy, and heavily embroidered, synopsis of a Dickens novel.

She leaned back against the wall. They were doing this for James, she knew, but also for her—distracting people, keeping them amused, making them forget about Elias. It felt such a relief, not to be facing it all alone.

She made her way into the room, smiling as she was stopped again and again to be congratulated. The string quartet was playing softly; most people seemed to have finished eating and were relaxing with glasses of port (for the men) and ratafia (for the ladies). Eugenia and Ariadne were playing with Alex. Matthew had begun singing, and Lucie and Thomas appeared to be trying to convince him to stop. Charlotte glanced over at them—Cordelia couldn’t help but wonder what Charlotte thought of her younger son, with his bohemian yearnings, the restless dissatisfaction that seemed to drive him, the way he had of being very sad, or very happy, with little in between.

And there was her own mother—Sona was on her feet, chatting brightly to Ida Rosewain and Lilian Highsmith, as if nothing had happened. Cordelia realized she was watching her mother do what she had always done: pick up the pieces and move on. How had Cordelia been so blind for so long?

She took a deep breath, plastered a smile on her face, and went to join her mother. She saw Sona’s quick look of relief as she approached, and thanked her mother’s companions for attending. Ida Rosewain complimented her dress; Lilian Highsmith admired Cortana’s new scabbard.

“Thank you,” Cordelia said. “It’s lovely too, isn’t it? A wedding gift from my father.”

She smiled; they all smiled; if anyone had anything to say about her father, they kept silent. Sona touched Cordelia’s cheek, and Cordelia went on, going from group to group of guests, thanking them for attending, for making her wedding happy. All one had to do was pretend, she realized, marveling a bit, and everyone else would fall into line pretending along with you.

As she turned away from the Wentworths, who wanted to know who had provided the champagne, a gentle hand came down on her shoulder. “My dear.” She turned; it was Tessa. “You’re doing marvelously.”

Cordelia only nodded; Tessa deserved better than a false smile. Guests were beginning to take their leave, she noticed with relief, filing out in groups of two and three.

“So much of managing in society is keeping one’s chin up,” Tessa added carefully, and Cordelia thought of what Tessa and her family had put up with through the years: mutters and whispers about Tessa’s warlock blood, her demon father. “And disregarding the ignorant things people say.”

Cordelia nodded, wordless. She knew that Will and Tessa were fully aware of Elias’s time in the Basilias, and what it had been about. But still, how humiliating, to have James’s parents see her family like this.

“I ought to start bidding the guests goodbye,” said Cordelia, “but James is in with—with my father.”

“Then I’ll accompany you,” Tessa said, and gestured for Cordelia to follow her. Together they made their way to the ballroom’s main doors, where Cordelia smiled again and again as guests departed. She thanked them for coming, and promised to invite them over the moment she and James were settled in their new house. She could see Lucie and Will out of the corner of her eye, circulating in the ballroom, handing out boxes with pieces of wedding cake in them for the guests to take home for good luck.

“Supposedly I’m meant to wait a year and then eat this,” Christopher said, waving his box of cake at Cordelia as he took his leave. His family surrounded him; Cecily and Gabriel, a sleeping Alexander, even Anna, though she was heading out with Magnus Bane—perhaps to the Ruelle, or parts unknown. “It should have grown some very interesting mold cultures by then.”

“I look forward to the results,” said Cordelia solemnly. Thomas, leaving with Eugenia, smiled. At least he wasn’t angry at her, even if he was furious at Alastair. Which, she thought, was not a situation that could be allowed to go on; she had to at least discover why the Merry Thieves were so angry at her brother.

When only a few guests remained in the ballroom, Cordelia spotted Alastair and James emerging from the games room. They headed in opposite directions—Alastair joined Sona, and James scanned the room, obviously searching for someone.

He caught sight of Cordelia then and waved, and she realized with a startled jolt that he had been looking for her. He hurried over and took her hands, bending to speak quietly in her ear. Cordelia glanced around, blushing, but no one was sparing them a second glance. (Tessa, discreetly, had melted back into the crowd.) Of course not, she thought: they were newlyweds, meant to be whispering in each other’s ears.

“Sorry to abandon you,” he murmured. “Your father kicked up a bit of a fuss.” She was glad he was making no attempt to ignore or pass off what had happened. “We got him a cold flannel for his forehead and put out the lights in the games room. He said he needed to be alone until his headache cleared.”