He could certainly set fire to anything. Matthew had not meant for Christopher to be asked to leave Shadowhunter Academy, but as it emerged, they did not let you remain in school if you blew up any portion of it. Besides which, Professor Fell had threatened to leave the Academy forever if Christopher remained.

Thomas had stayed out the full year, but found no reason to return with his friends gone and Alastair God-Help-Us Carstairs graduated.

So by luck, the closeness between their families, and an irresponsible attitude to flammable materials, more often than not all Matthew’s bosom friends could live near each other in London. They trained together at the London Institute and took lessons together in various schoolrooms, and Lavinia Whitelaw had referred to them as “that notorious bunch of hooligan boys.” Matthew and James had called themselves Shadowhooligans for some time after that remark. They had decided it was long past time to have a room of their own, inviolate from parents—however well-meaning—and preserved from siblings; though Cousin Anna and Luce were always welcome, due to being kindred spirits. So they had rented a room from the proprietor of the Devil Tavern, who owed the Herondales some sort of favor. They paid a monthly fee and had it all to themselves.

Matthew regarded their room with deep satisfaction. It looked very well, he thought, and best with all four of them sitting in it. In honor of Ben Jonson’s Apollo Club, which had once held its meetings in this very tavern, a bust of the god hung over the fireplace with words cut into the marble beneath the head and shoulders:

Welcome all, who lead or follow,

To the Oracle of Apollo

All his answers are divine,

Truth itself doth flow in wine.

There was, of course, a window seat for Jamie, and Jamie was already installed with his book upon his lap. Christopher sat in his laboratory, adding an alarming orange liquid to a bubbling purple liquid, his face a picture of contentment. Thomas was seated cross-legged upon the sofa and earnestly practicing his blade work. Thomas was very conscientious and worried about not being a good enough Shadowhunter due to being undersized.

Thomas’s sisters were a good deal taller than he was. So was everybody. Aunt Sophie, Tom’s mama, said that Thomas would shoot up someday. She said she believed one of her grandpapas had been a blacksmith and a giant of a man, small as a pea until he was seventeen.

Aunt Sophie was a kind lady, very beautiful and most interesting with her tales of mundanes. Matthew did not know how Mr. Gideon Lightwood could live with himself.

He turned over the vial of truth potion in his waistcoat.

“Friends, now we are all gathered together, shall we share secrets?”

Jamie fiddled with his shirt cuff again, which he always did upon certain occasions, and pretended not to hear. Matthew suspected he had a secret love. He sometimes wondered whether James would have confided in him if he had been a different sort of person, more serious-minded and dependable.