Silver Threads ↠ Matthew Fairchild [1]

TWENTY-TWO

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T H E R U L E S O F E N G A G E M E N T

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Willa had never been allowed to attend a meeting of the Enclave before. That, of course, did not stop her from hiding nearby in an attempt to listen in on the discussions. Luckily, as many young Shadowhunters had been directly involved with the incidents under discussion, the age limit had been waived for the meeting meaning Willa would be able to actually attend. They had all jumped at the chance to attend; Lucie had even brought her writing materials with her, in case she was inspired.

The Sanctuary had been set up to be a meeting place, with rows of chairs facing a lectern. Golden statues of Raziel were set in each alcove, and Tessa had hung tapestries showing the crests of every London Shadowhunter family on the walls. James and Christopher had both been seated at the front of the room. Every chair was filled and many were standing; the room was stuffed to bursting. Cordelia had entered with her family, but now sat with Lucie, Willa, and Matthew once the older Herondale girl had insisted she come sit with them before dragging her away.

Will Herondale stood up at the lectern, handsome in a gray coat and waistcoat with pin-striped trousers; he appeared to be having a friendly argument with Gabriel Lightwood as Tessa looked on. Inquisitor Bridgestock was not far away, glowering.

Lucie was quick to point out to them all those in attendance who had recovered from the poison: Ariadne Bridgestock was there, looking calm and very beautiful in a deep aubergine dress, with a matching bow in her dark hair. Rosamund Wentworth was also there, as were Anna and Cecily Lightwood who were playing with little Alexander at the edge of the dry fountain. Alexander appeared to be tossing something shiny and likely breakable into the air.

Sophie and Gideon Lightwood, freshly back from Idris, were smiling over at Cecily and little Alex, but Sophie's eyes were sad. Thomas and his sister Eugenia sat close by. Eugenia resembled a sharper version of Barbara: she was small but angular, with dusky hair unswept in a Gibson girl pompadour. Thomas had made a point to talk to Willa about sitting with his family, but the girl had only waved him off telling him it was quite alright and that she would be fine without him for the meeting.

Seated at the very edge of the group of Shadowhunters, near Mrs. Bridgestock, was Tatiana Blackthorn, rigidly upright in her chair; she had not removed her hat, and the ornate stuffed bird atop it flared menacingly. She was thinner than ever, her hands tightly clenched in her lap, her face rigid with fury. Grace sat some distance from her mother, beside Charles, who was chattering away in her ear. She and Tatiana did not look at each other.