Jamie was telling him now. Tom had told him that whatever Alastair said was nonsense. If Matthew had asked his father about what Alastair had said, his father could have told him about Great-Aunt Matty, and they might even have laughed about how absurd it was to think some stupid malicious boy could ever make them doubt their family.

Jamie’s mouth crooked down a little. “Oh well. I know you have to hear a lot about me and my unfortunate antecedents already. I do not want you to think I am an unbearable nuisance and you got a bad bargain with your parabatai.”

“Jamie,” Matthew said on a wounded breath, as if he had been hit.

“I know it must feel wretched to remember anything hurtful that worm Carstairs said about your mother,” James plunged on. “Especially when she is—she is unwell. The very next time we see him, we will punch him in the head. What do you say to that, Mathew? Let’s do it together.”

Matthew’s father and his mother and his brother and his parabatai had all been trying not to burden him, while Matthew pranced on thinking he was no end of a fine fellow and dealing remarkably by himself. James would not have done what Matthew had. Nor would Christopher or Thomas. They were loyal. They were honorable. When someone had insulted Jamie’s mother, Jamie had thrown him in the river.

Matthew pressed his palm against James’s linen shirt, over the steady beat of his loyal heart. Then Matthew clenched his hand into a fist.

He could not tell him. He could never do it.

“All right, old chap,” said Matthew. “We will do it together. Do you think I could have a moment alone, though?”

James hesitated, then drew back.

“Is that what you want?”

“It is,” said Matthew, who had never wanted to be alone in his life, and never wanted to be alone less than in this moment.

James hesitated again, but he respected Matthew’s wishes. He bowed his head and went out, Matthew assumed to rejoin his sister. They were both good and pure. They should be together and comfort each other. They deserved comfort as he did not.

After James was gone, Matthew could not keep standing. He fell to his hands and knees in front of the fire.

There was a statue above the fire showing Jonathan Shadowhunter, the first Shadowhunter, praying for the world to be washed clean of evil. Behind him was the Angel Raziel flying to gift him with strength to defeat the forces of darkness. The first Shadowhunter could not see him yet, but he was standing firm, because he had faith.