Silver Threads ↠ Matthew Fairchild [1]

TWENTY-THREE

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N O   O N E   W H O   L O V E S

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It seemed even after all that had happened lately, Willa still dreaded the idea of attending a party. The room was full of happy people—the quarantine was over, and everyone wanted to gather and gossip and congratulate Will and Tessa on the happiness of their offspring. It's not that Willa wasn't happy as well because she was, but she quite preferred the company of her close friends and family only—not the entire Shadowhunter population that seemed to have filled the Institute's walls.

Despite it all, Willa could not help but be impressed with what her mother had been able to do. Tessa had thrown together the traditional engagement party for James and Cordelia at a moment's notice, but it was so lovely one would have guessed she spent weeks planning it. The ballroom was bright with festive witchlights and candles, the walls hung above with ribbons in wedding gilt. Lace-draped tables bore plates of sweets, all in the theme of yellow and gold: iced lemon pastries stuffed with cream, cut-glass dishes of crystallized fruit, bonbons in fancy gold wrappings on an everyone, yellow plum and apricot tartlets. There were tumbling arrangements of flowers in urns on pillars around the ballroom: peonies, creamy camellias, sheaves of tall yellow gladioli, sprays of mimosa, pale gold roses and daffodils. It was quite hard for one to not be impressed.

Yet her mother seemed far from proud of the work she had been able to do. In fact, she seemed worrisome as she slipped an arm around Will's waist and smiled at Ida Rosewain. Her look was very similar to the one that appeared upon Lucie's as well, but the only difference was that Lucie actually knew why she must be worried and Tessa was still left in the dark.

James and Cordelia hadn't wanted to keep their marriage blanc a secret from their closest friends, so Willa knew Lucie understood by now what was actually happening. The marriage was a sham, a formality to save Cordelia's reputation.

Willa knew what her sister was thinking—how life was not like the books she so desperately wished to write. Perhaps it would never be like that.

James, elegant in black and white, had joined her parents in greeting guests. Gabriel and Cecily had just arrived with Anna, Alexander, and Christopher and distributed embraces and congratulations; Thomas had already come with his family. The Fairchilds had also arrived earlier, Matthew breaking away immediately from his family to make a beeline for the games room. Meanwhile, Charles was wandering around shaking hands and generally taking credit for the end of the attacks. The sound of carriages rattling into the courtyard made its own sort of odd music as the room began to fill up: the Bridgestocks arrived, Ariadne thin but bright-eyed—and with them, Grace Blackthorn who would be staying with them until she was married to Charles.