When he went into the breakfast room, he found Matthew, who had been all gold and laughter, cowering in his chair as if he could not bear what was to come.

“My mother,” he whispered at once, his voice brittle and dry as old bones.

She will live, said Jem, and softened seeing the boy’s pain.

James had known his parabatai’s heart better than Jem. There had been a time when Will was a boy everybody assumed the worst of, with good reason. Everybody except for Jem. He did not want to learn harsh judgment from the Silent Brothers, or a less forgiving heart.

Matthew lifted his head to face Brother Zachariah. His eyes told of agony, but he held his voice steady.

“And the child?”

Brother Zachariah said, The child did not live.

Matthew’s hands closed on the edge of his chair. His knuckles were white. He looked older than he had a mere two nights ago.

Matthew, said Brother Zachariah, and walled off his Brothers in his head as well as he might.

“Yes?”

Rely upon a Silent Brother for silence, said Jem. I will not tell anybody about the Shadow Market or any bargains you may have made there.

Matthew swallowed. Jem thought he might be about to be thanked, but Jem had not done this for thanks.

I will not tell anybody, he said, but you should. A secret too long kept can kill a soul by inches. I watched a secret almost destroy a man once, the finest man ever made. Such a secret is like keeping treasure in a tomb. Little by little, poison eats away at the gold. By the time the door is opened, there may be nothing left but dust.

Brother Zachariah stared into the young face that had been so bright. He waited and hoped to see that face lit again.

“All this about the Shadow Market,” Matthew faltered.

Yes? said Jem.

The boy flung back his golden head.

“I’m sorry,” said Matthew coldly. “I do not know what you are talking about.”

Zachariah’s heart fell.

So be it, he said. James and Lucie are waiting for you in the library. Let them give you whatever comfort they can.

Matthew stood from his chair, moving as if he had grown suddenly old over the course of a day. Sometimes the distance Silent Brothers possessed moved them to dispassionate observation and too far from pity.

It would be a long time, Brother Zachariah knew, before there could be any comfort for Matthew Fairchild.

The library in Matthew’s house was a far smaller and less loved and lived-in room than the library in the London Institute, but tonight there was a fire burning and Herondales waiting within. Matthew stumbled into the room as if he were walking in from midwinter cold, his limbs too chilled to move.