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“Really?” James frowned. “Is everyone still planning to attend?”
His parents were extremely dedicated to the tradition of the Institute Christmas party. It had started under Charlotte and Henry, who, his parents had explained, had decided that it didn’t matter that Shadowhunters didn’t celebrate the mundane holiday. It was so pervasive in London, present in every corner of the city through all of December, that they had realized the value of having something festive for the Enclave to look forward to during the long, cold winter months. The Herondales had continued the tradition of a ball in late December; in fact, James knew that it was at one of the Institute Christmas parties that his parents had become engaged to be married.
“It is odd,” Tessa said. “But the invitations were all sent at the beginning of the month, before any of the troubles we’ve been having. We thought perhaps guests would cancel, but they haven’t.”
“It’s important to the Enclave,” Will said. “And the Angel knows, it’s not a bad thing to keep up morale.”
Lucie moved her doubtful look to her father. “Yes, a completely selfless act, holding the party you love more than all other parties.”
“My dear daughter, I am offended by the insinuation,” Will said. “Everyone will be looking to the Institute to set the tone and demonstrate that as the chosen warriors of the Angel, the Shadowhunters will carry on, a united front against the forces of Hell. ‘Half a league, half a league, half a league’—”
“Will!” Tessa said reproachfully. “What have I said?”
Will looked chastened. “No ‘Charge of the Light Brigade’ at the table.”
Tessa patted his wrist. “That’s right.”
Jesse said, “Is there anything particularly dangerous about holding the party?”
It was a sensible question. James had noticed this was Jesse’s way generally: he tended to be quiet and offer thoughts rarely, but when he did, they cut to the heart of things.
“Not where Belial is concerned,” said James. “The Institute’s the safest place in London when it comes to demons; if he did somehow attack, the whole Enclave would retreat here as a matter of policy.”
“I suppose,” said Jesse, still in the same calm voice, “I was thinking of my mother. A party like that, with so many of you collected in one place—it might attract her. Draw her here.”
Will regarded Jesse thoughtfully. “And then she would do what?”
Jesse shook his head. “I don’t know. She is unpredictable, but certainly she hates you all, and she has a special loathing for these Christmas parties—she spoke often to me of having been humiliated at one once, and the Enclave not caring.”
Will sighed. “That was me. I read her diary out loud at a Christmas party, long ago. I was twelve. And I was quite severely punished, so in fact, the Enclave was on her side.”
“Ah,” said Jesse. “When I was a child, I thought it was terrible that she had been so often wronged. Later I came to understand that my mother saw everything as a wrong undertaken against her. She collected grievances, as if they were china figurines. She liked to take them out and speak about them, examining them over and over for new facets of evil and betrayal. She held them closer to her than she ever held her children.”
“The next time she acts, the Clave will not be so lenient with her,” said Will tightly. “This time her Marks will be stripped.”
“Father,” said Lucie, looking pointedly in Jesse’s direction.
“It’s all right,” Jesse said. “Believe me. After what she did to me—” He put down his fork, shaking his head. “I try not to think about revenge. I take no pleasure in it, but I know that what is necessary must be done. She has done too much to me, to my sister, to be given another chance.”
Grace. For a moment, James could say nothing; his throat had closed up. The thought of Grace was like falling down an endless black hole, a pit lined with mirrors, each of which reflected back a vision of himself cringing, foolish, filled with shame.
He saw Lucie look at him, her blue eyes wide with worry. He knew she could not understand, but it was clear she sensed his distress. She said loudly, “I was thinking, since we are having the party, that it would be the best opportunity to introduce Jesse to the rest of the Enclave. As Jeremy Blackthorn, of course.”
She had successfully drawn off James’s parents attention. Will drew a lazy circle in the air with the tip of his spoon. “Good thought, cariad.”
“I am sure he will be instantly beloved,” Lucie said.
Jesse smiled. “I would settle for not being left to rot in the Silent City.”
“Oh, nonsense,” Tessa said kindly. “The Clave accepted me, and they’ll accept you as well.”
“He needs something new to wear,” Lucie said. “He can’t go on in James’s old clothes; they’re too short.” This was true; Jesse was taller than James, though thinner as well. “And half of them are fraying, and they all have old lemon drops in the pockets.”
“I don’t mind the lemon drops,” said Jesse mildly.
“Of course,” Will exclaimed. “A new wardrobe for a new man. We must take you to Mr. Sykes—”
“Mr. Sykes is a werewolf,” Lucie explained.
