His smile flashed like heat lightning, transforming his face. “That’s true. You did quite a lot of brave things on the bridge.”

“That’s not what I—” she began to sputter, then reached up as he held Cortana out to her. It was lovely to have it in her arms again. “Cortana, moosh moosh-am,” she said. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Did you just use a term of endearment for your sword?” said James. He had looked exhausted when he’d come into the room, but he seemed greatly cheered up now.

“It means ‘mouse,’ and yes, it is a term of endearment. Cortana has been with me through many difficult times. It should be appreciated.” She leaned the sword against the fireplace grate; the heat would not tarnish the blade. Nothing did.

“I wish I knew more Persian,” said James. He sank into one of the armchairs. “I would like to thank you in it, Daisy, for saving my life and risking your own. And for helping us as you have, especially when no one you know is ill. You could all have fled back to Paris or Cirenworth the moment this started.”

Cordelia had often dreamed of teaching James Persian herself. English endearments were so limited and bland in comparison, she had always thought: Persians thought nothing of telling someone they loved fadat besham, I would die for you, or calling that person noore cheshmam, the light of my eyes, or adelbaram, the thief of my heart. She thought suddenly of the sparking fire in the Whispering Room and the smell of roses. She bit her lower lip.

“You should not thank me,” she said. “Or treat me as though I am being entirely unselfish.”

James raised his winging black eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I have my own reasons for involving myself in the search for a cure. Of course I want to help those who are sick, but I also cannot help believing that if I were able to do such a service to the Clave as aiding in ending this demonic disease, surely they would grant my father leniency in his trial.”

“I wouldn’t call that selfish,” said James. “What you are talking about is undertaking to do good for the sake of your father and your family.”

Cordelia smiled weakly. “Well, I’m sure you’ll add that to the list of my many qualities when you are helping me find a husband.”

James did not smile back. “Daisy,” he said. “I cannot—I do not think that I—” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps, after what happened in the Whispering Room, I am not the right person to find you a husband. I can’t imagine you would trust me to—”

“I do trust you.” Cordelia spoke through numb lips. “I entirely understand. You did not take liberties, James. It was a pretense. It was false, I know—”

“False?” he echoed.