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"We will want guarantees that no Downworlder whose hands are clean of mundane blood will be slaughtered. We want a law that states that any Shadowhunter who does strike down an innocent Downworlder will be punished. " Ralf bore the outbreak of protest, and shouted it down. "You people live by laws! They are all you understand!"
"Yes, our laws, passed down to us by the Angel!" thundered Fairchild.
"Not rules that demon scum try to impose on us," sneered Starkweather.
"Is it too much to ask, to have laws to defend us as well as laws to defend the mundanes and the Nephilim?" Ralf demanded. "My parents were slain by Shadowhunters because of a terrible misunderstanding, because my parents were in the wrong place at the wrong time and presumed guilty because they were werewolves. I am raising my young brother alone. I want my people to be protected, to be strong, and not to be driven into corners until they either become killers or are killed!"
Magnus looked over to Camille, to share the spark of sympathy and indignation for Ralf Scott, so terribly young and terribly hurt and terribly in love with her. Camilles face was untouched, more like a porcelain dolls face than a persons, her skin porcelain that could not redden or pale, her eyes cold glass.
He felt a qualm and dismissed it out of hand. It was a vampires face, that was all-no renoindentection of how she actually felt. There were many who could not read anything but evil in Magnuss own eyes.
"What a terrible shame," said Starkweather. "I would have thought you might have more siblings to share the burden. You people generally have litters, do you not?"
Ralf Scott jumped up and hit the table with an open palm. His fingers grew claws and scored the surface of the table.
"I think we need scones!" exclaimed Amalia Morgenstern.
"How dare you?" bellowed Granville Fairchild.
"That was mahogany!" cried Roderick Morgenstern, looking appalled.
"I would very much like a scone," said Arabella the mermaid. "Also possibly some cucumber sandwiches. "
"I like egg and cress," contributed Rachel Branwell.
"I will not stand to be so insulted!" said a Shadowhunter called Waybread, or some such thing.
"You will not be insulted, and yet you will insist on murdering us," Camille remarked, her cool voice cutting the air. Magnus felt almost unbearably proud of her, and Ralf threw her a passionately grateful look. "It seems hardly fair. "
"Do you know that, last time, they threw away the plates that our very touch had profaned, once we were gone?" Magnus asked softly. "We can come to an agreement only if we begin at a position of some mutual respect. "
Starkweather barked a laugh. Magnus actually did not hate Starkweather; at least he was no hypocrite. No matter how foul, Magnus did appreciate honesty.
"Then we wont come to an agreement. "
"I fear I must agree," Magnus murmured. He pressed a hand over his heart and his new peacock-blue waistcoat. "I strive to find some respect in my heart for you, but alas! It seems an impossible quest. "
"Damned insolent magical libertine!"
Magnus inclined his head. "Just so. "
When the refreshments tray arrived, the pause in hurling insults in order to consume scones was so excruciatingly awkward that Magnus excused himself under the pretext that he had to use the conveniences.
break
There were only a few chambers in the Institute into which Downworlders were permitted to venture. Magnus had simply intended to creep off into a shadowed corner, and he was rather displeased to find that the first shadowed corner he came upon was occupied.
There was an armchair and a small table. Slumped on the tabletop that depicted filigree gold angels was a seated man, cradling a small box in his hands. Magnus recognized the shining hair and broad shoulders immediately.
"Mr. Herondale?" he inquired.
Edmund started badly. For a moment Magnus thought he might fall from his chair, but Shadowhunter grace saved him. He stared at Magnus with blurred, wounded surprise, like a child slapped from sleep. Magnus doubted he had been doing much sleeping; his face was marked with sleepless nights.
"Had a night of it, did we?" Magnus asked, a little more gently.
"I had a few glasses of wine with the duck a lorange," Edmund said, with a pallid smile that vanished as soon as it was born. "I shall never eat duck again. I cannot believe I used to like duck. The duck betrayed me. " He was silent, then admitted, "Perhaps more than a few glasses. I have not seen you in Eaton Square. "
Magnus wondered why on earth Edmund had thought he would, and then he recalled. It was the beautiful young Welsh girls address.
"You went to Eaton Square?"
Edmund looked at him as if Magnus were dull-witted.
"Pardon me," said Magnus. "I simply find it hard to imagine one of the mundanes glorious invisible protectors paying a social call. "
This time Edmunds grin was the old one, brilliant and engaging, even though it did not last. "Well, they did ask me for a card, and I had not the faintest idea what they meant by that. I was turned away with vast contempt by her butler. "
"I take it you did not give the matter up there. "
"No indeed," said Edmund. "I simply lay in wait, and after a mere few days had the opportunity to follow Li-Miss Owens, and caught up with her riding in Rotten Row. I have seen her every day since then. "
"Follow her? I wonder that the lady did not alert a constable. "
The glow returned to Edmunds face, rendering him in gold and blue and pearl again. "Linette says I am fortunate she did not. " He added, a little shyly, "We are engaged to be married. "
