-Charlotte Mew, "In Nunhead Cemetery"
The rest of the day at the Institute passed in a mood of great tension, as the Shadowhunters prepared for their confrontation with Nate that night. There were no formal meals again, only a great deal of rushing about, as weapons were readied and polished, gear was prepared, and maps consulted while Bridget, warbling mournful bal ads, carried trays of sandwiches and tea up and down the hal s.
If it hadnt been for Sophies invitation to "come and have a pickle" Tessa probably wouldnt have eaten anything all day; as it was, her knotted throat would all ow only a few bites of sandwich to slide down before she felt as if she were choking.
Im going to see Nate tonight, she thought, staring at herself in the pier glass as Sophie knelt at her feet, lacing up her boots-boys boots from Jessamines hidden trove of male clothing.
And then I am going to betray him.
She thought of the way Nate had lain in her lap in the carriage on the way from de Quinceys, and the way he had shrieked her name and held on to her when Brother Enoch had appeared. She wondered how much of that had been show. Probably at least part of him had been truly terrified- abandoned by Mortmain, hated by de Quincey,
in the hands of Shadowhunters he had no reason to trust.
Except that she had told him they were trustworthy. And he had not cared.
He had wanted what Mortmain was offering him. More than he had wanted her safety. More than he had cared about anything else. all the years between them, the time that had knitted them together so closely that she had thought them inseparable, had meant nothing to him.
"You cant brood on it, miss," said Sophie, rising to her feet and dusting off her hands. "He arent-I mean, he isnt worth it. "
"Who isnt worth it?"
"Your brother. Wasnt that what you were thinking on?"
Tessa squinted suspiciously. "Can you tell what Im thinking because you have the Sight?"
Sophie laughed. "Lord, no, miss. I can read it on your face like a book. You always have the same look when you think of Master Nathaniel. But hes a bad hat, miss, not worth your thoughts. "
"Hes my brother. "
"That doesnt mean youre like him," said Sophie decisively. "Some are just born bad, and thats all there is to it. "
Some imp of the perverse made Tessa ask: "And what of Will ? Do you stil think he was born bad? Lovely and poisonous like a snake, you said. "
Sophie raised her delicately arched eyebrows. "Master Will is a mystery, no doubt. "
Before Tessa could reply the door swung open, and Jem stood in the doorway. "Charlotte sent me to give you-," he began, and broke off, staring at Tessa.
She looked down at herself. Trousers, shoes, shirt, waistcoat, all in order.
It was certainly a peculiar feeling, wearing mens clothes-they were tight in places she was not used to clothes being tight, and loose in others, and they itched-but that hardly explained the look on Jems face.
"I . . . " Jem had flushed all over, red spreading up from his col ar to his face. "Charlotte sent me to tell you were waiting in the drawing room," he said. Then he turned around and left the room hurriedly.
"Goodness," Tessa said, perplexed. "What was that about?"
Sophie chuckled softly. "Well, look at yourself. " Tessa looked. She was flushed, she thought, her hair tumbling loose over her shirt and waistcoat. The shirt had clearly been made with something of a feminine figure in mind, since it did not strain over the bosom as much as Tessa had feared it would; still, it was tight, thanks to Jessies smaller frame. The trousers were tight as well, as was the fashion, molding themselves to her legs. She cocked her head to the side. There was something indecent about it, wasnt there? A man was not supposed to be able to see the shape of a ladys upper legs, or so much of the curve of her hips. There was something about the mens clothing that made her look not masculine but . . . undressed.
"My goodness," she said.
"Indeed," said Sophie. "Dont worry. Theyl fit better once you Change, and besides . . . he fancies you anyway. "
"I-you know-I mean, you think he fancies me?"
"Quite," said Sophie, sounding unperturbed. "You should see the way he looks at you when he doesnt think you see. Or looks up when a door opens, and is always disappointed when it isnt you. Master Jem, he isnt like Master Will. He cant hide what hes thinking. "
"And youre not . . . " Tessa searched for words. "Sophie, youre not-put out with me?"
"Why would I be put out with you?" A little of the amusement had gone out of Sophies voice, and now she sounded careful y neutral.
Youre in for it now, Tessa, she thought. "I thought perhaps that there was a time when you looked at Jem with a certain admiration. That is all. I meant nothing improper, Sophie. "
Sophie was silent for such a long time that Tessa was sure she was angry, or worse, terribly hurt. Instead she said, final y, "There was a time when I- when I admired him. He was so gentle and so kind, not like any man Id known. And so lovely to look at, and the music he makes-" She shook her head, and her dark ringlets bounced. "But he never cared for me. Never by a word or a gesture did he lead me to believe he returned my admiration, though he was never unkind. "
"Sophie," Tessa said softly. "You have been more than a maidservant since I have come here. You have been a good friend. I would not do anything that might hurt you. "
Sophie looked up at her. "Do you care for him?"
"I think," Tessa said with slow caution, "that I do. "
"Good. " Sophie exhaled. "He deserves that. To be happy. Master Will has always been the brighter burning star, the one to catch attention-but Jem is a steady flame, unwavering and honest. He could make you happy. "
"And you would not object?"
"Object?" Sophie shook her head. "Oh, Miss Tessa, it is kind of you to care what I think, but no. I would not object. My fondness for him-and that is all it was, a girlish fondness-has quite cooled into friendship. I wish only his happiness and yours. "
Tessa was amazed. all the worrying she had done about Sophies feelings, and Sophie didnt mind at all. What had changed since Sophie had wept over Jems il ness the night of the Blackfriars Bridge debacle? Unless . . . "Have you been walking out with someone? Cyril, or . . . "
Sophie rol ed her eyes. "Oh, Lord have mercy on us all. First Thomas, now Cyril. When will you stop trying to marry me off to the nearest available man?"
"There must be someone-"
"Theres no one," Sophie said firmly, rising to her feet and turning Tessa toward the pier glass. "There you are. Twist up your hair under your hat and youl be the model of a gentleman. "
Tessa did as she was told.
When Tessa came into the library, the smal band of Institute Shadowhunters -Jem, Will, Henry, and Charlotte, all in gear now-were grouped around a table on which a smal oblong device made of brass was balanced. Henry was gesturing at it animatedly, his voice rising. "This," he was saying, "is what I have been working on. For just this occasion. It is specifical y calibrated to function as a weapon against clockwork assassins. "