I thought you understood—that this would be a bit of happiness we could snatch for ourselves before the world forced us apart.

The hair made a satisfying sound as she cut through it. It rained down on the carpet. She took another fistful, then another, until her hair was to her chin. The cut brought her features into sharp relief. She trimmed more in the front, clipped away at the back, until there was just enough to sweep into a gentlemanly wave.

And now it was perfect. Her reflection gazed back at her, lips curved in an incredulous smile. The waistcoat brought out her eyes; the trousers, the slimness of her legs. She felt she could breathe, even with the ache of Ariadne’s loss in her chest. She might have lost the girl, but she had gained herself. A new Anna, confident, dapper, powerful.

Hearts were broken across London every day. Perhaps Anna might break a heart or two herself. There would be others—lovely girls would come and go, and she would remain in control of her heart. She would never be torn like this again.

She was a Shadowhunter. She would take the blow. She would harden herself and laugh in the face of pain.

Anna descended the stairs soon after. It was late afternoon now, though the sun was still shining brightly through the windows. This day would last forever.

Her mother was in the sitting room with a tea tray, baby Alex in a basket by her side. Her father sat opposite, engaged in reading the newspaper.

Anna stepped into the room.

Both her parents looked up. She saw them take in her new clothes, as well as her short hair. She stood in the doorway, bracing herself for whatever response was coming.

A long moment passed.

“I told you the blue waistcoat was the one,” Gabriel said to Cecily. “It brings out her eyes.”

“I did not disagree,” said Cecily, rocking the baby. “I just said she would also look very well in red.”

Anna began to smile.

“Much better than your brother’s clothes,” Gabriel said. “He does dreadful things to them with sulfur and acids.”

Cecily examined Anna’s shorn locks.

“Very sensible,” she said. “Hair can be cumbersome in battle. I like it very much.” She rose to her feet. “Come sit,” she added. “Stay with your brother and father a moment. There is something I meant to fetch for you.”

As her mother left the room, Anna felt her limbs go tingly as she sat down on the settee. She reached down to Alex. He was looking all around the room, taking in all the wonders anew in the way that babies do whenever they awake and find that the world is still there, to be understood in all its myriad complexities.

“I understand how you feel,” she said to her brother.