“They must ask him what happened,” said Cordelia. “They must try the Mortal Sword. Will they?”

Jem hesitated. Cordelia saw that Lucie was approaching them, just as she realized she had mashed the herbs in the mortar into green sludge.

“Daisy,” Lucie said in a low voice. This struck Cordelia as alarming. Lucie could rarely be convinced to whisper about anything. “Could you come with me a moment? I very much need your assistance.”

“Of course,” Cordelia said, a bit hesitantly. “It is only that—”

She turned toward Jem, hoping to get his answer to her question. But he had already vanished into the crowded sickroom.

“Where are we going?” Cordelia whispered, as they hurried along the corridors of the Institute. “Lucie. You cannot simply abduct me, you know.”

“Nonsense,” said Lucie. “If I wished to abduct you, you can be sure that I would do it quite expertly, no doubt beneath the veil of silence and darkness.” They had reached the vestibule; Lucie took down a cloak from a peg on the wall and handed another to Cordelia. “Besides, I told my father I was taking you home in the carriage because you faint at the sight of blood.”

“Lucie!” Cordelia followed her friend out into the courtyard. The sun had only just set, and the evening was brushed with a steel-blue patina. The yard was crowded with carriages, each bearing the crest of a Shadowhunter family.

“Not every bit of a good story is true,” said Lucie. Her cheeks were bright pink. The air had become chill; Cordelia pulled her cloak around her. “It’s the story that’s important.”

“I don’t want to go home, though,” Cordelia pointed out, as she and Lucie wove their way through the crowd of carriages. She squinted. “Is someone singing inside the Baybrook carriage?”

Lucie waved a dismissive hand. “Of course you’re not going home. You’re coming with me on an adventure.” She waved at something half-hidden behind the Wentworth carriage. “Bridget!”

It was indeed Bridget, her graying red hair wound into a chignon, having clearly just finished readying the Institute’s brougham and a fresh horse—Balios’s brother Xanthos. The two were a matched pair. Cordelia had heard a great deal about them growing up. Lucie went instantly to pat Xanthos’s soft, white-speckled nose; Cordelia tried to smile at Bridget, who was eyeing them both suspiciously.

“Carriage all ready for you, Miss Baggage,” Bridget said to Lucie. “Try to not get in trouble. It fusses your parents.”