Clockwork Princess

and she wouldn’t last a moment there, her and the child—”
    Gideon whitened. “Tatiana is going to have a child?”
    Despite the horror of the situation, Gabriel felt a flash of satisfaction at knowing something his brother hadn’t known. “Yes,” he said. “You would have known it, if you were still part of our family.”
    Gideon glanced around the room as if searching for a familiar face, then looked helplessly back at his brother and the Consul. “I …”
    Consul Wayland smiled coldly at Gabriel, and then his brother. “Have we an agreement, gentlemen?”
    After a long moment Gideon nodded. “We will do it.”
    Gabriel would not soon forget the look that spread over the Consul’s face at that. There was satisfaction in it, but there was little surprise. It was clear he had expected nothing else, and nothing better, from the Lightwood boys.
    “Scones?” Tessa said incredulously.
    Sophie’s mouth twitched into a smile. She was down on her knees before the grate with a rag and a bucket of soapy water. “You could have knocked me into a cocked hat, I was that startled,” she confirmed. “Dozens of scones. Under his bed, all gone hard as rocks.”
    “My goodness,” Tessa said, sliding to the edge of the bed and leaning back on her hands. Whenever Sophie was in her room cleaning, Tessa always had to hold herself back from rushing over to help the other girl with the tinderbox or the dusting. She had tried it on a few occasions, but after Sophie had set Tessa down gently but firmly for the fourth time, she had given it up.
    “And you were angry?” Tessa said.
    “Of course I was! Making all that extra work for me, carrying the scones up and down stairs, and then hiding them like that—I shouldn’t be surprised if we end the autumn with mice.”
    Tessa nodded, gravely acknowledging the potential rodent issue. “But isn’t it a bit flattering that he went to such lengths just to see you?”
    Sophie sat up straight. “It’s not flattering. He is not thinking. He is a Shadowhunter, and I am a mundane. I can expect nothing from him. In the best of all possible worlds, he might offer to take me as a mistress while he marries a Shadowhunter girl.”
    Tessa’s throat tightened, remembering Will on the roof, offering her just that, offering her shame and disgrace, and how small she had felt, how worthless. It had been a lie, but the memory still held pain.
    “No,” Sophie said, looking back down at her red, work-roughened hands. “It is better that I never entertain the idea. That way there will be no disappointment.”
    “I think the Lightwoods are better men than that,” Tessa offered.
    Sophie brushed her hair back from her face, her fingers lightly touching the scar that bisected her cheek. “Sometimes I think there are no better men than that.”
    Neither Gideon nor Gabriel spoke as their carriage rattled back through the streets of the West End to the Institute. The rain was pouring down now, rattling the carriage so noisily that Gabriel doubted anyone would have heard him if he had spoken.
    Gideon was studying his shoes, and did not look up as they rolled back to the Institute. As it loomed up out of the rain, the Consul reached across Gabriel and opened the door for them to exit.
    “I trust you boys,” he said. “Now go make Charlotte trust you too. And tell no one of our discussion. As far as this afternoon is concerned, you spent it with the Brothers.”
    Gideon climbed down out of the carriage without another word, and Gabriel followed him. The landau swung around and rattled off into the gray London afternoon. The sky was black and yellow, the drizzle as heavy as lead pellets, the fog so thick that Gabriel could barely see the Institute gates as they swung shut behind the carriage. He certainly didn’t see his brother’s hands as they darted forward, seized him by the collar of his jacket, and dragged him halfway around the side of the Institute.
    He nearly fell as Gideon pushed him up against the stone wall of the old church. They were near the stables, half-hidden from view by one of the buttresses, but not protected from the rain. Cold drops assaulted Gabriel’s head and neck and slid into his shirt. “Gideon—,” he protested, slipping on the muddy flagstones.
    “Be quiet.” Gideon’s eyes were huge and gray in the dull light, barely tinged with green.
    “You’re right.” Gabriel dropped his voice. “We should organize our story. When they ask us what we did