Silver Threads ↠ Matthew Fairchild [1]

FIFTEEN

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T H E   W H I S P E R I N G   R O O M

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Willa watched as Cordelia ascended the steps to the raised cherrywood stage in the middle of the room. She nervously bit her lip as she followed the red head across the room, a feeling of guilt washing over her for it felt like they were throwing her to the wolves of Hell Ruelle. James had his gaze on Cordelia, steady yet with a tinge of nervousness that Willa was able to pick up. As for Matthew, he was swearing under his breath beside the girl, but Willa couldn't blame him.

Kellington stood beside the red head and clapped his hands in order to hush the crowd. It didn't quiet fast enough, so James began to applaud loudly which in turn made Willa smirk before her and Matthew began to clap as well. Even Anna who was now snuggled next to Hypatia on the sette was clapping and Kellington looked her way with a frown. Hypatia looked back at him with wide, starry eyes and merely shrugged.

Clearing his throat, Kellington look back to the crowd, "Honored guests. Tonight we have something unusual. A Shadowhunter has offered to entertain us." A murmer ran through the room and the Shadowhunters continued to clap, a dark-haired vampire girl now joining in. "Please enjoy the performance of the lovely Cordelia Carstairs," Kellington said a bit hastily before turning to descend the stairs.

Cordelia was quick to place a hand on his arm, flashing a small smile at the man as she said, "I will require you to accompany me. On the violin."

"Nice one, Cordelia," Willa whispered proudly, smirking at Kellington's frustration as he strode off to retrieve his instrument.

"She is clever," Matthew agreed.

Cordelia reached up and unpinned her hair, her locks falling down her back like deep red rose petals and Willa swore she heard James begin to choke on his own air at the sight. The dark haired girl glanced his way momentarily, smiling slightly at the sight of James staring at Cordelia with wide eyes.

Willa always had preferred Cordelia over Grace.

The red head reached back and unsheathed Cortana, drawing it forward. The lights all seemed to shine on the blade, lighting it up like fire while Cordelia stared at her sword. "I have always loved stories," she announced, her clear voice echoing through the room.

"One of my favorite tales is that of the servant girl Tawaddud. After the death of a rich merchant, his son wasted all the inheritance he got until he had nothing left but one servant, a girl known through all the caliphate for her brilliance and her beauty. Her name was Tawaddud. She begged the son to take her to the court of the caliph Harun al-Rashid, and there to seek her for a vast sum of money. The son insisted he could not get such a princely sum for the sale of one servant. Tawaddud insisted she would convince the caliph that there was no wiser or more eloquent or learned woman in all the land but she. Eventually the son was worn down. He brought her to the court, and she came before the caliph, and she told him this," Cordelia nodded at Kellington who began to play a haunting tune on the violin.