James mimed a whistle. “Indeed. Much to be said on that topic, but for the moment—” He turned to Cordelia. “Mrs. Herondale, would you do me the honor of dancing the first waltz with me?”

Cordelia looked at him in surprise. “But husbands aren’t supposed to—I mean, they don’t dance with their wives.”

“Well, this one does,” said James, and whirled her away across the floor.

GRACE: 1896

Jesse’s was not a clean death. He had begun screaming in the night, and Grace had rushed in, to find her brother already a grotesque horror, a tangle of linens and blood, so much blood, screaming, inhuman in his torment. Grace shouted for her mother, her cries joining Jesse’s. She knew there were healing runes, Shadowhunter magic that could help, but she didn’t know how to draw them. Besides, she had no stele.

She held her brother, his blood soaking her nightclothes, and when she let go of him he was dead. In between she had a vague awareness of Tatiana’s arrival, of her own wailing, there next to Grace. At one point her mother held a gold locket to her son’s lips, sobbing violently, for what reason Grace did not then know, though she was to find out soon enough.

Grace had wanted her mother there, but she felt only more alone. Tatiana broke down, screaming, tearing at her clothes, crying prayers and imprecations to entities unknown to Grace to save him, save her boy, and once he was gone she sat on the floor, her legs splayed like a little girl, crying to herself. She didn’t show any awareness of Grace at all.

In the days after, if Grace had hoped to find comfort in her common grieving with her mother, she was to be disappointed. In the wake of Jesse’s death, her mother vanished further into herself, and often went long periods without acknowledging Grace or reacting when she spoke. While Grace sought to understand how to go on in the face of her desolation, her mother spat imprecations about the corruption of the Shadowhunters, their determination to ruin her, her unwillingness to go quietly without a fight. She even managed to throw blame in the direction of the Herondale family, though Grace could not see any connection between them and Jesse’s death.

In truth, while some part of her would have happily clung to the idea that someone was at fault for Jesse’s death, she knew that sometimes Shadowhunters could not take runes and died in the attempt. It was terrible—unfair, meaningless—but it was true. And so Grace found no comfort in her mother’s rage.