There was a noise of footsteps. Cordelia glanced up the stairs and saw James and Matthew descending. They saw her and both nodded, passing the entryway and heading to the drawing room. She realized they were giving her a moment alone with Enoch. He must have silently communicated to them as well.

Brother Zachariah is in the Spiral Labyrinth and cannot return, said Enoch.

“Oh.” Cordelia tried to hide her disappointment.

Cordelia, said Enoch. For years now I have watched Brother Zachariah grow into his role in our order with increasing respect. If we were allowed to have friends, many of us would count him as such. For all that, we know he is unusual. He paused. When a Silent Brother joins the ranks of the order, he is meant to give up his life, even his memories of who he was before he became a Silent Brother. This was more difficult for Zachariah, given the unusual circumstances of his transformation. There are those from his former life that he still considers his kin, which as a general rule is forbidden. But in his case… we allow it.

“Yes,” said Cordelia. “He thinks of the Herondales as family, I know—”

And you, said Enoch. And your brother. He knows about Elias. There are things happening in the Spiral Labyrinth that I cannot tell you of, things that prevent his departure. Yet he wishes above all to be with you. He cannot lie to me, nor I to you. If he could be beside you in this time, he would.

“Thank you,” Cordelia said quietly. “For telling me, I mean.”

Enoch gave her a sharp nod. She could see the runes of Quietude carved into the hollows of his cheeks; Jem had been marked that way too. Certainly it must have been painful. Knowing it likely violated some kind of rule, Cordelia laid a hand on his arm. The parchment robe seemed to crackle when she touched it: it was as if suddenly she could see down the span of many years, see the curve of the past, the silent power of a life spent among history and runes. “Please,” she said. “Has there been another death? I don’t know if you’re allowed to tell us, but—but the last death was my father. We have all been up all night, worrying there would be another. Can you set our minds at rest?”

Before Enoch could respond, the door to the drawing room opened, and James, Matthew, Christopher, Lucie, and Anna piled out. Five anxious faces fixed on Enoch—six, Cordelia supposed, if she counted her own. Five pairs of eyes made the same demand, asked the same question: Has anyone else died?

Enoch’s answer flowed calmly, without sentiment or bitterness. If another Shadowhunter has been struck down, I do not know about it.

Cordelia exchanged an uneasy look with James and Matthew. Could James’s dream have been wrong? None of the others had been.