Will smiled at his wife—James’s parents always looked at each other with such love, it was nearly painful to see—before heading toward the small group of Lightwoods gathered around Barbara. Cordelia heard them greet him, and Sophie’s worried tones, but her gaze was on Jem. He had come toward the counter and was reaching for several jars of mixed herbs. It was now or never.

“Cousin Jem,” Cordelia whispered. “I need to speak with you.”

Jem glanced up in surprise. Cordelia tried not to start; it was always strange to see a Silent Brother this close. She remembered all the times her mother had suggested her father go to the Basilias, the Shadowhunter hospital in Alicante, to cure his lingering illness. Elias had always insisted he did not wish to go anywhere where he would be surrounded by Silent Brothers. They rattled his nerves, he claimed; most of them were like creatures of ice and blood. Ivory robes marked in red, skin drained of color, scarred with red runes. Most were without hair and worse, had their eyes sewn shut, their sockets sunken and hollow.

Jem did not look like that. His face was young and very still, like the face of a knight from the Crusades carved on a marble tomb. His hair was a tangle of black and white threads. His eyes were permanently shut, as if in prayer.

Are you all right, Cordelia? asked Jem’s voice in her mind.

Tessa immediately moved to shield the two of them from the gaze of the rest of the sickroom. Cordelia tried to appear as if she were absolutely fascinated with her mortar and pestle, energetically mashing together feverfew and goldenseal.

“Please,” she whispered. “Have you seen Baba—my father—in Idris? How is he? When can he come home?”

There was a long pause.

I have seen him, said Cousin Jem.

For a moment, Cordelia let herself remember her father, truly remember him. Her father had taught her to fight. Her father had his faults, but he was never cruel, and when he did pay Cordelia some mind, his attention made her feel ten feet tall. It often felt as though Alastair and Sona were made of different stuff than Cordelia, glass or metal with edges that could cut, but Elias was the one who was like her.

Memories can be bitter as well as sweet.

She murmured, “You are a Silent Brother. I know my father was not always welcoming to you—”

Never think I am resentful of the distance he kept, said Jem. I would do anything I could for you and our family.

“He wrote me a note, asking me to believe in him. He says he is not responsible for what happened. Can’t you make the Clave believe him too?”

There was a long pause. I cannot assure the Clave of what I do not know myself, said Jem.