Clockwork Princess (The Infernal Devices, #3)(99)

As a token of your compliance, I must ask that you cease speaking of this matter entirely, and implore no members of the Enclave to join you in your fruitless quest. If I hear that you have brought this matter before any other Nephilim, I shall consider it the gravest disobedience and act accordingly.

Josiah Wayland, Consul of the Clave



Sophie had brought Charlotte the letter at the breakfast table. Charlotte pried it open with her butter knife, breaking through the Wayland seal (a horseshoe with the C of the Consul below it), and fairly tore it open in her eagerness to read.

The rest of them watched her, Henry with concern on his bright, open face as two dark red spots bloomed slowly over Charlotte’s cheekbones while her eyes scanned the lines. The others sat still, arrested over their meals, and Cecily could not help but think how it was strange in a way to see a group of men hanging upon the reaction of a woman.

Though a smaller group of men than it should have been. The absence of Will and Jem felt like a new wound, a clean white slice not yet filled in with blood, the shock almost too fresh for pain.

“What is it?” Henry said anxiously. “Charlotte, dear …”

Charlotte read the words of the message out with the emotionless beats of a metronome. When she was done, she pushed the letter away, still staring at it. “I simply cannot …” She began. “I do not understand.”

Henry had flushed red beneath his freckles. “How dare he write to you like that,” he said, with unexpected ferocity. “How dare he address you in that manner, dismiss your concerns—”

“Perhaps he is correct. Perhaps he is mad. Perhaps we all are,” Charlotte said.

“We are not!” Cecily exclaimed, and she saw Gabriel look sideways at her. His expression was difficult to read. He had been pale since he had come into the dining room, and had barely spoken or eaten, staring instead at the tablecloth as if it held the answers to all the questions in the universe. “The Magister is in Cadair Idris. I am sure of it.”

Gideon was frowning. “I believe you,” he said. “We all do, but without the ear of the Consul, the matter cannot be placed before the Council, and without a Council there can be no assistance for us.”

“The portal is nearly ready for use,” said Henry. “When it works, we should be able to transport as many Shadowhunters as needed to Cadair Idris in a matter of moments.”

“But there will be no Shadowhunters to transport,” said Charlotte. “Look, here, the Consul forbids me to speak of this matter to the Enclave. Its authority supersedes mine. To overstep his command like that—we could lose the Institute.”

“And?” Cecily demanded heatedly. “Do you care more for your position than you care for Will and Tessa?”

“Miss Herondale,” Henry began, but Charlotte silenced him with a gesture. She looked very tired.

“No, Cecily, it is not that, but the Institute provides us protection. Without it our ability to help Will and Tessa is severely compromised. As the head of the Institute, I can provide them assistance that a single Shadowhunter could not—”

“No,” Gabriel said. He had pushed away his plate, and his slim fingers were tense and white as he gestured. “You cannot.”

“Gabriel?” said Gideon in a questioning tone.

“I will not stay silent,” Gabriel said, and rose to his feet, as if he intended to either make a speech or sprint away from the table, Cecily was not sure. He turned a haunted green gaze on Charlotte. “The day that the Consul came here, when he brought me and my brother away for questioning, he threatened us until we promised to spy on you for him.”

Charlotte paled. Henry began to stand up from the table. Gideon threw a hand out pleadingly.

“Charlotte,” he said. “We never did it. We never told him a word. Nothing that was true, anyway,” he amended, looking around as the rest of the occupants of the room stared at him. “Some lies. Misdirection. He stopped asking after only two letters. He knew there was no use in it.”

“It’s true, ma’am,” came a small voice from the corner of the room. Sophie. Cecily almost hadn’t noticed her there, pale under her white mobcap.

“Sophie!” Henry sounded utterly shocked. “You knew about this?”

“Yes, but—” Sophie’s voice shook. “He threatened Gideon and Gabriel awfully, Mr. Branwell. He told them he would have the Lightwoods stricken off the Shadowhunter records, that he would have Tatiana turned out in the street. And still they didn’t tell him anything. When he stopped asking, I thought he’d realized there was nothing to find out and given up. I’m so sorry. I just—”

“She didn’t want to hurt you,” Gideon said desperately. “Please, Mrs. Branwell. Do not blame Sophie for this.”

“I don’t,” said Charlotte, her eyes dark and quick, moving from Gabriel to Gideon to Sophie, and back again. “But I rather imagine there is more to this story. Isn’t there?”

“That is all there is, truly—,” Gideon began.

“No,” Gabriel said. “It isn’t. When I came to you, Gideon, and told you that the Consul no longer wanted us to report to him about Charlotte, that was a lie.”

“What?” Gideon looked horrified.

“He brought me aside on my own, the day of the attack on the Institute,” Gabriel said. “He told me that if I helped him discover some wrongdoing on Charlotte’s part, he would give back the Lightwood estate to us, restore the honor to our name, cover up what our father did …” He took a deep breath. “And I told him I would do it.”