Clockwork Princess

into the room. It was like all the other rooms in the Institute: heavy dark furniture, a great four-poster bed, a wide fireplace, and high windows, which in this case looked down upon the courtyard below. Sophie could feel his gaze on her as she moved across the room to place the salver on the table before the fire. She straightened up and turned to him, her hands folded in front of her apron.
    “Sophie—,” he began.
    “Mr. Lightwood,” she interrupted. “Is there anything else you require?”
    He looked at her half-mutinously, half-sadly. “I wish you would call me Gideon.”
    “I have told you, I cannot call you by your Christian name.”
    “I am a Shadowhunter; I do not have a Christian name. Sophie, please.” He took a step toward her. “Before I took up residence in the Institute, I had thought we were well on our way to a friendship. Yet since the day I arrived, you have been cold to me.”
    Sophie’s hand went involuntarily to her face. She remembered Master Teddy, the son of her old employer, and the horrible way he would catch her in dark corners and press her up against the wall, hands creeping under her bodice, murmuring in her ear that she had better be friendlier to him, if she knew what was good for her. The thought filled her with sickness, even now.
    “Sophie.” Gideon’s eyes crinkled worriedly at the corners. “What is it? If there is some wrong I have done you, some slight, please tell me what it is that I may remedy it—”
    “There is no wrong, no slight. You are a gentleman and I am a servant; anything more would be a familiarity. Please do not make me uncomfortable, Mr. Lightwood.”
    Gideon, who had half-raised his hand, let it drop to his side. He looked so woebegone that Sophie’s heart softened.
I have everything to lose, and he has nothing to lose
, she reminded herself. It was what she told herself late at night, lying in her narrow bed, with the memory of a pair of storm-colored eyes hovering in her mind. “I had thought we were friends,” he said.
    “I cannot be your friend.”
    He took a step forward. “What if I were to ask you—”
    “Gideon!” It was Henry, at the open door, breathless, wearing one of his terrible green-and-orange-striped waistcoats. “Your brother’s here. Downstairs—”
    Gideon’s eyes widened. “Gabriel’s here?”
    “Yes. Shouting something about your father, but he won’t tell us anything more unless you’re there. He swears it. Come along.”
    Gideon hesitated, his eyes moving from Henry to Sophie, who tried to look invisible. “I …”
    “Come
now
, Gideon.” Henry rarely spoke sharply, and when he did, the effect was startling. “He’s covered in blood.”
    Gideon paled, and he reached for the sword that hung on a set of double pegs by his door. “I’m on my way.”
    Gabriel Lightwood leaned against the wall inside the Institute doors, his jacket gone, his shirt and trousers drenched in scarlet. Outside, through the open doors, Tessa could see the Lightwood carriage, with its flame blazon on the side, drawn up at the foot of the steps. Gabriel must have driven it here himself.
    “Gabriel,” Charlotte said soothingly, as if she were trying to gentle a wild horse. “Gabriel, tell us what happened, please.”
    Gabriel—tall and slender, brown hair sticky with blood—scrubbed at his face, wild-eyed. His hands were bloody too. “Where’s my brother? I have to talk to my brother.”
    “He’s coming down. I sent Henry to fetch him, and Cyril to ready the Institute’s carriage. Gabriel, are you injured? Do you need an
iratze
?” Charlotte sounded as motherly as if this boy had never faced her down from behind Benedict Lightwood’s chair, had never conspired with his father to take the Institute away from her.
    “That is a great deal of blood,” said Tessa, pushing forward. “Gabriel, it is not all yours, is it?”
    Gabriel looked at her. It was the first time, Tessa thought, that she had seen him behave with no posturing at all. There was only stunned fear in his eyes, fear and—confusion. “No…. It’s
theirs—
”
    “Theirs? Who are
they
?” It was Gideon, hurrying down the stairs, a sword in his right hand. Along with him came Henry, and Jem, and behind him, Will and Cecily. Jem paused on the steps in startlement, and Tessa realized that he had caught sight of her in her wedding dress. His eyes widened, but the others were already pushing by, and he was carried down the steps like a leaf in a