And she had not expected James. She had not expected that his eyes would fix on her the moment she entered the room, watching her and nothing else. He was beautiful enough to take her breath away, his dark gold coat the same color as his eyes, his hair wild and crow’s-wing black. He looked dazed, a little stunned as she joined him at the altar, as if the breath had been knocked out of him.

She could not blame him. They had both known this day was coming, but the reality of it was staggering.

The violin music softened as the Consul rose to join them. Charlotte Fairchild took her place behind the altar. She smiled warmly, and Cordelia stepped away from Lucie; James took her hands, and they faced each other. His grasp was warm and hard, his fingers calloused. He had bent his head; all she could see was the fall of his curling black hair against his sharp cheekbone.

“Welcome, all.” Charlotte’s commanding voice filled the room. Lucie was vibrating with excitement, fairly bouncing up and down on her toes. Matthew’s gaze wandered the crowd, a small ironic smile pulling at his mouth. “Twenty-three years ago, I married Will and Tessa Herondale in this very chapel. How proud and grateful I am to be here now to marry their son, James, to a woman whose family is also close to my heart. Cordelia Carstairs.”

Charlotte turned her steady gaze on Cordelia, who felt immediately uneasy. Surely Charlotte of all people would see through them. But she only smiled again and said, “We come together, Clave and Enclave, children of the Angel and the ones they love”—she dropped a wink and Cordelia realized, with some surprise, that Magnus Bane had joined Will and Tessa among the guests—“to celebrate the joining together of lives under Raziel’s auspices. We walk a lonely road and a high one, we Nephilim. The burden Raziel has laid upon us is a heavy one, as we have had recent cause to remember.” Her gaze moved for a moment to Gideon and Sophie. “But he has given us many gifts to balance our responsibilities,” Charlotte went on, and now her gaze rested tenderly on her husband, Henry. “He has given us a tremendous capacity to love. To give of our hearts, to let them be filled and filled again with the love that consecrates us all. To love one another is to come as close as we ever can to being angels ourselves.”

Cordelia felt a light squeeze to her hand. James had raised his head; he was looking at her with a level gaze and an encouraging smile. Steady on, he mouthed soundlessly, and she couldn’t help but smile back.

“James Morgan Henry Herondale,” said Charlotte. “Hast thou gone among the streets of the city and the watchmen there, and found the one thy soul loves?”