Cordelia heard Lucie catch her breath. She didn’t release it until James responded in a firm, clear voice that echoed through the chapel.

“I have,” he said, then seemed slightly startled, as if surprised at the strength of his own conviction. “And I will not let her go.”

“Cordelia Katayoun Carstairs,” said Charlotte. “Hast thou gone among the streets of the city and the watchmen there, and found the one thy soul loves?”

Cordelia hesitated. James’s hands were firm and gentle on hers; she knew he would always be this way, gentle and determined, kind and thoughtful. Her heart beat hard and treacherous inside her chest. He had not been gentle in the Whispering Room. Not gentle with his hands on her body and his lips on hers. That had been the James she wanted, her one glimpse at the James she could not have.

She had told herself she could get through this time easily, that at least she would be close to James, be beside him, see him sleeping and waking. But she knew now, looking at his face—the curves of his mouth, the arch of his eyelashes, sweeping down to hide his thoughts—that she would not walk away at the end of this year unscathed. She was agreeing to have her heart broken.

“Yes,” said Cordelia. “And I will not let him go.”

There was a flourish of violin music. Charlotte beamed. “It is time for the exchange of the first runes, and the second vows,” she said. Shadowhunters generally placed two runes upon each other when they were married: a rune upon the arm, given during the public ceremony, and a rune over the heart—done later, in private. One rune for the community, and one for the privacy of marriage, Sona had always said.

Matthew and Lucie turned to the altar, returning with two golden steles. “Set me as a seal upon thy heart, as a seal upon thy arm,” said Lucie, handing the first stele to Cordelia with an encouraging smile. The ritual words were ancient, freighted with the gravity of years. Sometimes they were spoken by the bride and groom, sometimes by their suggenes. In this instance, James and Cordelia had wanted Matthew and Lucie to speak.

“For love is strong as death,” said Matthew, placing the second stele in James’s hand. His tone was uncharacteristically somber. “And jealousy cruel as the grave.”

James pushed up the left sleeve of his jacket and shirt, revealing more of the runes placed on his arms earlier that day. Runes for Love, Luck, and Joy. Cordelia leaned in to place the marriage rune on his upper arm—a few quick, fluid strokes. She had to steady his arm with her free hand to do it, and she shivered a little at the contact: the hard muscle of his bicep under her fingers, the smoothness of his skin.