James and Lucie exchanged a worried look. If Will was singing, that meant he was in a sociable mood and would seize them the moment he saw them and begin reminiscing about Wales and ducks.

“Perhaps,” said James in a whisper, “we should all swiftly exit and ascend to an upper chamber using a window and a grappling hook.”

Tessa appeared in the doorway of the drawing room. At the sight of all five of them, she raised her eyebrows. Lucie and James exchanged a glance: too late for the grappling hook.

Lucie stepped forward and slid an arm around her mother’s waist. “Sorry, Mam, we had a late picnic down by the river. Are we in trouble?”

Tessa smiled. “You are all scamps, but I hope you enjoyed yourselves. We can discuss this later. Your father has a guest. Go in and introduce yourselves. I’ll just pop up to the infirmary and be back.”

James led their expedition into the parlor, Thomas, Matthew, and Christopher all murmuring their greetings to Tessa as they passed. In the parlor, sitting upon two matched gray velvet wing-backed chairs, were Will and a tall green warlock with horns curling in his snowy hair. He wore a dour expression.

Will made the introductions. “Ragnor Fell, my beloved son and daughter. Also a disgraceful pack of home invaders. I think you all know Ragnor Fell, the former High Warlock of London?”

“He taught us in the Academy,” Christopher said.

Ragnor Fell glared at him. “By the name of Lilith,” he drawled. “Hide the breakables. Hide the whole house. Christopher Lightwood is here.”

“Christopher is often here,” said James. “The house remains mostly intact.”

Will grinned. “Mr. Fell is here on a social call,” he said. “Isn’t that nice?”

Will had tried to make clear that the Institute’s doors were open to Downworlders, but few had ever taken him up on that hospitality. Will and Henry talked often of Magnus Bane, but Bane had been in America Lucie’s whole life.

“Mr. Fell expressed a keen interest in Welsh music, so I sang a few songs,” said Will. “Also, we had a few glasses of port. We’ve been enjoying ourselves.”

“I have been here for hours,” said Ragnor, in a dolorous voice. “There have been many songs.”

“I know you enjoyed them,” said Will. His eyes were sparkling. Far above them, Lucie heard an odd sound: as if something in the house had tipped over and crashed. Perhaps a lamp.

“I do feel as if I have been to Wales and back,” said Ragnor. His eyes lit on Matthew. “The Consul’s son,” he said. “I remember you. Your mother is a kind woman—has she quite gotten over her illness?”