“Surely you jest,” said Matthew. “I know you only say these things to hurt me. Off with you. Brush your hair!”

“The hairbrush mutiny is coming,” warned James, making for the door.

“Come back victorious or on the hairbrushes of your soldiers!” Matthew called after him.

When Jamie had flown, Matthew turned to Lucie, who was scribbling intently but who looked up as if sensing his glance and smiled. Matthew wondered how it would be, to be self-sufficient and welcoming with it, like a house with sturdy walls and a beacon light always burning.

“Should I brush my hair?” Lucie teased.

“You are, as always, perfect,” said Matthew.

He wished he could fix the ribbon in her hair, but that would be taking a liberty.

“Do you wish to attend our secret club meeting?” asked Matthew.

“I cannot, I am doing lessons with my mother. Mam and I are teaching ourselves Persian,” said Lucie. “I should be able to speak the languages my parabatai speaks, shouldn’t I?”

James had recently started calling his mother and father Mam and Da rather than Mama and Papa, since it sounded more grown-up. Lucie had instantly copied him in this matter. Matthew rather liked hearing the Welsh lilt in their voices when they called their parents, their voices soft as songs and always loving.

“Of a certainty,” said Matthew, coughing and making a private resolution to return to his Welsh lessons.

There had been no question of Lucie attending Shadowhunter Academy. She had never demonstrated any abilities like James’s, but the world was cruel enough to women who were even suspected of being the least bit different.

“Lucie Herondale is a sweet child, but with her disadvantages, who would marry her?” Lavinia Whitelaw had asked Matthew’s mama once over tea.

“I would be happy if either of my sons wished to,” said Charlotte, in her most Consul-like manner.

Matthew thought James was very lucky to have Lucie. He had always wanted a little sister.

Not that he wanted Lucie to be his sister.

“Are you writing your book, Luce?” Matthew asked tentatively.

“No, a letter to Cordelia,” Lucie answered, shattering Matthew’s fragile plot. “I hope Cordelia will come to visit, very soon,” she added with earnest eagerness. “You will like her so much, Matthew. I know you will.”

“Hmm,” said Matthew.

Matthew had his doubts about Cordelia Carstairs. Lucie was going to be parabatai with Cordelia one day, when the Clave decided they were grown-up ladies who knew their own minds. Lucie and James were acquainted with Cordelia from childhood adventures that Matthew had not been part of, and which Matthew felt a bit jealous about. Cordelia must have some redeeming qualities, or Lucie would not want her for a parabatai, but she was Alastair Loathly Worm Carstairs’s sister, so it would be strange if she was entirely amiable.

“She sent me a picture of herself in her latest. This is Cordelia,” Lucie continued in tones of pride. “Is she not the prettiest girl you ever saw?”