Cassandra Clare - Clockwork Prince

Tessa glanced back over her shoulder, to where Charlotte stood at the foot of the steps, having succeeded, it seemed, in finally getting Gideon to speak to her. She was gesturing animatedly, using her hands.

“We ought to wait for them, oughtn’t we—,” Tessa began.

Will shook his dark head determinedly. “Charlotte will be blathering at him for ages about what room he wants to stay in, and how grateful she is for his help, and all I want is to talk to you.”

Tessa stared at him as they entered the Institute. Will wanted to talk to her. He had said so before, true, but to speak so straightforwardly was very unlike him.

A thought seized her. Had Jem told him of their engagement? Was he angry, thinking her not worthy of his friend? But when would Jem have had a chance ? Perhaps while she was dressing—but, then, Will did not look angry.

“I can’t wait to tell Jem about our meeting,” he said as they mounted the stairs. “He’ll never believe that scene—for Gideon to turn on his father like that! It’s one thing to tell secrets to Sophie, another to renounce your whole allegiance to your family. Yet he cast away his family ring.”

“It is as you said,” Tessa said as they turned at the top of the stairs and made their way down the corridor. Will’s gloved hand was warm on her arm. “Gideon’s in love with Sophie. People will do anything for love.”

Will looked at her as if her words had jolted him, then smiled, that same maddeningly sweet smile he had given her in the carriage. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

Tessa made as if to answer, but they had reached the drawing room. It was bright inside; the witchlight torches were high, and there was a fire in the grate. The curtains were drawn back, showing squares of leaden sky. Tessa took off her hat and gloves and was just laying them on a small Moroccan table when she saw that Will, who had followed her in, was drawing closed the bolt on the door.

Tessa blinked. “Will, why are you locking—”

She never finished her sentence. Covering the space between them in two long strides, Will reached her and caught her up in an embrace. She gasped in surprise as he took her by the arms, walking her backward until they half-collided with the wall, her crinolette protesting.

“Will,” she said in surprise, but he was pinning her to the wall with his body, his hands sliding up her shoulders, into her damp hair, his mouth sudden and hot on hers. She fell and spun and drowned in the kiss; his lips were soft and his body was hard against her, and he tasted like rain. Heat spread through the pit of her stomach as his mouth moved urgently on hers, willing her response.

Jem’s face flashed against the back of her closed eyelids. She put her hands flat against Will’s chest and shoved him away from her, as hard as she could. Her breath came out on a violent exhalation: “No.”

Will took a surprised step backward. His voice, when he spoke, was throaty and low. “But last night? In the infirmary? I—you embraced me—”

I did? With an acute shock she realized that what she had taken for a dream had been no dream after all. Or was he lying? But no. There was no manner in which he could have known what she had dreamed.

“I . . .” Her words stumbled over themselves. “I thought I was dreaming . . .”

The hazy look of desire was fast vanishing from his eyes, replaced by hurt and confusion. He almost stammered: “But even today. I thought you—you said you were as eager to be alone with me as I was—”

“I imagined you wanted an apology! You saved my life at the tea warehouse, and I am grateful, Will. I thought you wanted me to tell you that—”

Will looked as if she had slapped him. “I didn’t save your life so you’d be grateful !”

“Then, what?” Her voice rose. “You did it because it’s your mandate? Because the Law says—”

“I did it because I love you!” he half-shouted, and then, as if registering the shocked look on her face, he said in a more subdued voice, “I love you, Tessa, and I have loved you, almost since the moment I met you.”

Tessa laced her hands together. They were icy cold. “I thought you couldn’t be crueler than you were on the roof that day. I was wrong. This is crueler.”

Will stood motionless. Then he shook his head slowly, from side to side, like a patient denying the deadly diagnosis of a physician. “You . . . don’t believe me?”

“Of course I don’t believe you. After the things you said, the way you’ve treated me—”

“I had to,” he said. “I had no choice. Tessa, listen.” She began to move toward the door; he scrambled to block her way, his blue eyes burning. “Please listen. Please .”

Tessa hesitated. The way he said “please” — the catch in his voice—this was not like it had been on the roof. Then he had barely been able to look at her. Now he was staring at her desperately, as if he could will her to remain with desire alone. The voice that cried within her that he would hurt her, that he was not sincere, grew softer, buried under an ever loudening treacherous voice that told her to stay. To hear him out.

“Tessa.” Will pushed his hands through his black hair, his slim fingers trembling with agitation. Tessa remembered what it was like to touch that hair, to have her fingers wound through it, like rough silk against her skin. “What I am going to tell you I have never told another living soul but Magnus, and that was only because I needed his help. I have not even told Jem.” Will took a deep breath. “When I was twelve, living with my parents in Wales, I found a Pyxis in my father’s office.”

She was not sure what she had expected Will to say, but this was not it. “A Pyxis ? But why would your father keep a Pyxis?”

“A memento from his Shadowhunting days? Who can guess? But do you recall the Codex discussing curses and how they can be cast? Well, when I opened the box, I released a demon—Marbas—who cursed me. He swore that anyone who loved me was doomed to die. I might not have believed it—I was not well schooled in magic—but my elder sister died that night, horribly. I thought it was the beginning of the curse. I fled my family and came here. It seemed to me the only way to keep them safe, not to bring them death on death. I did not realize at first that I was walking into a second family. Henry, Charlotte, even bloody Jessamine—I had to make sure that no one here could ever love me. To do so, I thought, would be to put them into deadly danger. For years I have held everyone at arm’s length—everyone I could not push away entirely.”

Tessa stared at him. The words echoed in her head. Held everyone at arm’s length—pushed everyone away— She thought of his lies, his hiding, the unpleasantness to Charlotte and Henry, the cruelties that seemed forced, even the story of Tatiana, who had only loved him the way little girls did, and whose affections he had crushed. And then there was . . . “Jem,” she whispered.

He looked at her miserably. “Jem is different,” he whispered.

“Jem is dying. You let Jem in because he was already near death? You thought the curse wouldn’t affect him?”

“And with every year that passed, and he survived, that seemed more likely. I thought I could learn to live like this. I thought when Jem was gone, after I turned eighteen, I’d go live by myself, not inflict myself or my curse on anyone—and then everything changed. Because of you.”

“Me?” said Tessa in a quiet, stunned voice.

The ghost of a smile touched his mouth. “When I first met you, I thought you were unlike anyone else I had ever known. You made me laugh. No one but Jem has made me laugh in, good God, five years. And you did it like it was nothing, like breathing.”