Clockwork Prince (41 page)

“No. But you make me want to write it. Does that not count for anything?”

Tessa’s lips curled into a smile. She leaned forward and looked up into his face, so close to hers that she could make out each individual silvery eyelash on his lids, the faint white scars on his pale throat where once there had been Marks. “That sounds almost practiced, James Carstairs. How many girls have you made swoon with that observation?”

“There is only one girl I care to make swoon,” he said. “The question is, does she?”

She smiled at him. “She does.”

A moment later—she did not know how it had happened—he was kissing her, his lips soft on hers, his hand rising to cup her cheek and chin, holding her face steady. Tessa heard a light crinkling and realized it was the sound of the silk flowers on her hat being crushed against the side of the carriage as his body pressed hers back. She clutched at his coat lapels, as much to keep him close as to stop herself from falling over.

The carriage came to a jerking halt. Jem drew back from her, looking dazed. “By the Angel,” he said. “Perhaps we do need a chaperon.”

Tessa shook her head. “Jem, I . . .”

Jem still looked stunned. “I think I’d better sit over here,” he said, and moved to the seat across from hers. Tessa glanced toward the window. Through the gap in the curtains she saw that the Houses of Parliament loomed above them, towers framed darkly against the lightening sky. It had stopped raining. She was not sure why the carriage had stopped; indeed, it rumbled into life a moment later, rolling directly into what seemed a pit of black shadow that had opened up before them. She knew enough not to gasp in surprise this time; there was darkness, and then they rolled out into the great room of black basalt lit with torches that she remembered from the Council meeting.

The carriage stopped and the door flew open. Several Silent Brothers stood on the other side. Brother Enoch was at their head. Two Brothers flanked him, each holding a burning torch. Their hoods were back. Both were blind, though only one, like Enoch, seemed to have missing eyes; the others had eyes that were shut, with runes scrawled blackly across them. All had their lips stitched shut.

Welcome again to the Silent City, Daughter of Lilith,
said Brother Enoch.

For a moment Tessa wanted to reach behind herself for the warm pressure of Jem’s hand on hers, let him help her out of the carriage. She thought of Charlotte then. Charlotte, so small and strong, who leaned on no one.

She emerged from the carriage on her own, the heels of her boots ringing on the basalt floor. “Thank you, Brother Enoch,” she said. “We are here to see Jessamine Lovelace. Will you take us to her?”

The prisons of the Silent City were beneath its first level, past the pavilion of the Speaking Stars. A dark staircase led down. The Silent Brothers went first, followed by Jem and Tessa, who had not spoken to each other since they’d left the carriage. It was not an awkward silence, though. There was something about the haunting grandeur of the City of Bones, with its great mausoleums and soaring arches, that made her feel as if she were in a museum or a church, where hushed voices were required.

At the bottom of the stairs, a corridor snaked in two directions; the Silent Brothers turned to the left, and led Jem and Tessa nearly to the end of the hall. As they went, they passed row after row of small chambers, each with a barred, padlocked door. Each contained a bed and washstand, and nothing else. The walls were stone, and the smell was of water and dampness. Tessa wondered if they were under the Thames, or somewhere else altogether.

At last the Brothers stopped at a door, the second to the last on the hall, and Brother Enoch touched the padlock. It clicked open, and the chains holding the door shut fell away.

You are welcome to enter,
said Enoch, stepping back.
We will be waiting for you outside.

Jem put his hand to the door handle and hesitated, looking at Tessa. “Perhaps you should talk to her for a moment alone. Woman to woman.”

Tessa was startled. “Are you sure? You know her better than I do—”

“But you know Nate,” said Jem, and his eyes flicked away from her briefly. Tessa had the feeling there was something he was not telling her. It was such an unusual feeling when it came to Jem that she was not sure how to react. “I will join you in a moment, once you have put her at ease.”

Slowly Tessa nodded. Brother Enoch swung the door open, and she walked inside, flinching a little as the heavy door crashed to behind her.

It was a small room, like the others, stone-bound. There was a washstand and what had probably once been a ceramic jug of water; now it was in pieces on the floor, as if someone had thrown it with great force against the wall. On the narrow bed sat Jessamine in a plain white gown, a rough blanket wrapped around her. Her hair fell around her shoulders in tangled snakes, and her eyes were red.

“Welcome. Nice place to live out of, isn’t this?” Jessamine said. Her voice sounded rough, as if her throat were swollen from crying. She looked at Tessa, and her lower lip began to tremble. “Did—did Charlotte send you to bring me back?”

Tessa shook her head. “No.”

“But—” Jessamine’s eyes began to fill. “She can’t
leave
me here. I can hear them, all night.” She shuddered, pulling the blanket closer around her.

“You can hear what?”

“The dead,” she said. “Whispering in their tombs. If I stay down here long enough, I will join them. I know it.”

Tessa sat down on the edge of the bed and carefully touched Jessamine’s hair, stroking the snarls lightly. “That won’t happen,” she said, and Jessamine began to sob. Her shoulders shook. Helplessly Tessa looked around the room, as if something in the miserable cell might give her inspiration. “Jessamine,” she said. “I brought you something.”

Jessamine very slowly raised her face. “Is it from Nate?”

“No,” Tessa answered gently. “It’s something of yours.” She reached into her pocket and drew it out, extending her hand toward Jessamine. In her palm lay a tiny baby doll that she had taken from its crib inside Jessamine’s doll’s house. “Baby Jessie.”

Jessamine made an “oh” sound low in her throat, and plucked the doll from Tessa’s grasp. She held it tightly, against her chest. Her eyes spilled over, her tears making tracks in the grime on her face. She really was a most pitiful sight, Tessa thought. If only . . .

“Jessamine,” Tessa said again. She felt as if Jessamine were an animal in need of gentling, and that repeating her name in a kind tone might somehow help. “We need your help.”

“In betraying Nate,” Jessamine snapped. “But I don’t know anything. I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“Yes, you do.” It was Jem, coming into the cell. He was flushed and a little out of breath, as if he had been hurrying. He shot Tessa a conspiratorial glance and closed the door behind him. “You know exactly why you’re here, Jessie—”

“Because I fell in love!” Jessamine snapped. “You ought to know what that’s like. I see how you look at Tessa.” She shot Tessa a poisonous look as Tessa’s cheeks flamed. “At least Nate is human.”

Jem didn’t lose his composure. “I haven’t betrayed the Institute for Tessa,” he said. “I haven’t lied to and endangered those who have cared for me since I was orphaned.”

“If you wouldn’t,” said Jessamine, “you don’t really love her.”

“If she asked me to,” said Jem, “I would know she did not really love
me
.”

Jessamine sucked in a breath and turned away from him, as if he had slapped her face. “You,” she said in a muffled voice. “I always thought you were the nicest one. But you’re horrible. You’re all horrible. Charlotte
tortured
me with that Mortal Sword until I told everything. What more could you possibly want from me? You’ve already forced me to betray the man I love.”

At the very corner of Tessa’s vision, she saw Jem roll his eyes. There was a certain theatricality to Jessamine’s despair, as there was to everything she did, but under it—under the role of wronged woman Jessamine had cast herself in—Tessa felt she was genuinely afraid.

“I know you love Nate,” Tessa said. “And I know that I will not be able to convince you that he does not return your sentiment.”

“You’re jealous—”

“Jessamine, Nate cannot love you. There is something wrong with him—some piece missing from his heart. God knows my aunt and I tried to ignore it, to tell each other it was boyish high-jinks and thoughtlessness. But he murdered our aunt—did he tell you that?—murdered the woman who brought him up, and laughed to me about it later. He has no empathy, no capacity for gratitude. If you shield him now, it will win you nothing in his eyes.”

“Nor is it likely you will ever see him again,” said Jem. “If you do
not
help us, the Clave will never let you go. It will be you and the dead down here for eternity, if you are not punished with a curse.”

“Nate said you would try to frighten me,” said Jessamine in a sliver of a voice.

“Nate also said the Clave and Charlotte would do nothing to you because they were weak,” said Tessa. “That has not proven true. He said to you only what he had to say, to get you to do what he wanted you to. He is my brother, and I tell you, he is a cheat and a liar.”

“We need you to write a letter to him,” said Jem. “Telling him you have knowledge of a secret Shadowhunter plot against Mortmain, and to meet you tonight—”

Jessamine shook her head, plucking at the rough blanket. “I will not betray him.”

“Jessie.” Jem’s voice was soft; Tessa did not know how Jessamine could hold out against him. “Please. We are only asking you to save yourself. Send this message; tell us your usual meeting place. That is all we ask.”

Jessamine shook her head. “Mortmain,” she said. “Mortmain will yet win out over you. Then the Silent Brothers will be defeated and Nate will come to claim me.”

“Very well,” said Tessa. “Imagine that does happen. You say Nate loves you. Then, he would forgive you anything, wouldn’t he? Because when a man loves a woman, he understands that she is weak. That she cannot hold out against, for instance, torture, in the manner in which he could.”

Jessamine made a whimpering sound.

“He understands that she is frail and delicate and easily led,” Tessa went on, and gently touched Jessamine’s arm. “Jessie, you see your choice. If you do not help us, the Clave will know it, and they will not be lenient with you. If you do help us, Nate will understand. If he loves you . . . he has no choice. For love means forgiveness.”

“I . . .” Jessamine looked from one of them to the other, like a frightened rabbit. “Would you forgive Tessa, if it were her?”

“I would forgive Tessa anything,” Jem said gravely.

Tessa could not see his expression, she was facing Jessamine, but she felt her heart skip a beat. She could not look at Jem, too afraid her expression would betray her feelings.

“Jessie, please,” she said instead.

Jessamine was silent for a long time. When she spoke, finally, her voice was as thin as a thread. “You will be meeting him, I suppose, disguised as me.”

Tessa nodded.

“You must wear boys’ clothes,” she said. “When I meet him at night, I am always dressed as a boy. It is safer for me to traverse the streets alone like that. He will expect it.” She looked up, pushing her matted hair out of her face. “Have you a pen and paper?” she added. “I will write the note.”

She took the proffered items from Jem and began to scribble. “I ought to get something in return for this,” she said. “If they will not let me out—”

“They will not,” said Jem, “until it is determined that your information is good.”

“Then they ought to at least give me better food. It’s dreadful here. Just gruel and hard bread.” Having finished scribbling the note, she handed it to Tessa. “The boys’ clothes I wear are behind the doll’s house in my room. Take care moving it,” she added, and for a moment again she was Jessamine, her brown eyes haughty. “And if you must borrow some of my clothes, do. You’ve been wearing the same four dresses I bought you in June over and over. That yellow one is practically ancient. And if you don’t want anyone to know you’ve been kissing in carriages, you should refrain from wearing a hat with easily crushed flowers on it. People aren’t blind, you know.”

“So it seems,” said Jem with great gravity, and when Tessa looked over at him, he smiled, just at her.

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 ballads, carried trays of sandwiches and tea up and down the halls.

If it hadn’t been for Sophie’s invitation to “come and have a pickle” Tessa probably wouldn’t have eaten anything all day; as it was, her knotted throat would allow only a few bites of sandwich to slide down before she felt as if she were choking.

I’m 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 Jessamine’s hidden trove of male clothing.

And then I am going to betray him.