She smiled at him. He could tell she was as relieved as he to be home, despite the extended and alarming events of the day. Their trip to Paris had been more harrowing than either of them had let on—it had taken all their joint diplomacy to smooth over the bitter anger of the French Downworlders. There were moments when, alone with Tessa, Will had worried aloud about the possibility of war. He had worried, too, about Charles: the boy had been too angry and defensive at first to realize the scale of his mistake, and then had sunk into a bitter gloom. He had not wanted to come back to London, either, and had agreed to it only when Will had pointed out that he was no longer welcome in Paris.

“You’re fretting,” Tessa said, reading his eyes. When she tilted her head up and brushed his lips with hers, he cupped her face in his hands. So many years, he thought, and each kiss was new as the break of day.

Tessa let her book fall to the floor, her hands rising to grip the front of Will’s shirt. He was just thinking that his night was markedly improving when their reverie was broken by a sudden shriek of horror.

Will spun around, surprising Tessa greatly, then frowned. “Jessamine,” he said sternly. “Don’t carry on. We’re married. And don’t be rude, show yourself to Tessa.”

Jessamine did whatever she did that allowed her to be visible to non-Herondales. It firmed her up around the edges, making her appear more solid and less translucent. “Of course I’d find you two kissing,” she snapped. “There’s no time for such nonsense. I need to tell you about Lucie.”

“What about Lucie?” Will inquired, perturbed by the interruption. He did not think that kissing was nonsense and had been eager to continue with it, especially after such a stressful day.

“Your daughter has got herself mixed up in bad business. I don’t like to tell tales, but it is a dreadful situation involving necromancy.”

“Necromancy?” Tessa exclaimed in disbelief. “If you’re talking about Lucie being friendly with Jesse Blackthorn’s ghost, we already know about it. It’s hardly that surprising; she’s been friends with you all her life.”

“And I must point out that you love to tell tales, Jessamine,” Will added.

“It would be all well and good if Lucie just wanted to be friends with ghosts, but that’s not the end of it.” Jessamine drifted over to Tessa’s dresser. “She can command them. I’ve seen her do it. They do whatever she tells them to.”

“She what?” Will said. “Lucie never—”

Jessamine shook her head, impatient. “Your lovely child summoned up the ghost of Emmanuel Gast, that disgraced warlock. She compelled him to answer her questions, and then at the end she—” Jessamine broke off, dramatically.