♕

Tessa and Laurina had thrown together the traditional engagement party for James, Cordelia, Dahlia and Matthew at a moment's notice, but it was so lovely one would have guessed she had spent weeks planning it. The ballroom was bright with festive witchlights and candles, the walls hung about with ribbons in wedding gilt. Lace-draped tables bore plates of sweets, all in the theme of yellow and gold: iced lemon pastries stuffed with cream, cut-glass dishes of crystallized fruit, bonbons in fancy gold wrappings on an epergne, yellow plum and apricot tartlets. There were tumbling arrangements of flowers in urns on pillars around the ballroom: peonies, creamy camellias, sheaves of tall yellow gladioli, sprays of mimosa, pale gold roses and daffodils. The room was full of happy people—the quarantine was over, and everyone wanted to gather and gossip and congratulate Will, Tessa, Maurice and Laurina on the engagements.

Yet Tessa, even as she slipped an arm around Will's waist and smiled at Ida Rosewain, who had arrived in a simply enormous hat, looked worried. Laurina, who was chatting with one of the Wenworths, was rather shocked when Dahlia and Ariadne had burst into their home and told their parents about the news.

Dahlia had arrived a few minutes ago, chatting happily with her sister and Christopher. She was wearing a mint green lace gown with golden silk skirts under it which showed at the slit in the center, the top of the dress was simple. It painly mint and had a golden rosette in the middle near her chest. Her hair was dark with pearls in it, and she was wearing her diamond earrings. 

Cordelia came in with her mother and brother, Sona looking darkly regal in a green dress and black velvet roosari, Alastair—well, Lucie hardly noticed Alastair until he handed his hat to the maid and she realized he'd dyed his hair back to its natural black. It stood out strikingly against the brown of his skin.

And then there was Cordelia, arrayed in a tapering gown of deep blue silk and golden tulle, sleeves ruched and an opalescent brooch gathering together silk and gauze in a rosette between her breasts. Risa had dressed her hair with pearls winking among the dark red strands.

James took her hands and kissed her cheek. Both he and Cordelia looked aware of how many people were staring at them and probably whispering. Cordelia's announcement at the Enclave meeting, though it had led to marriage, remained the shock of the season.

Annoyed on their behalf, Dahlia began to make her way across the room toward her family. She was headed off by Thomas, carrying their little cousin Alexander. Aunt Cecily and Uncle Gabriel had clearly palmed Alexander off on Thomas while they devoted themselves to party preparation. It was rather sweet to see tall, muscular Thomas carefully carrying a child, though Dahlia would never tell him so lest he get a swelled head.

"Dahl," Thomas said. "I must go greet Cordelia and Alastair. Could you take this awful brat?"

"Not a brat," said Alexander, who was sucking a piece of licorice.

"I could," Dahlia acknowledged. "Fine, I shall." she sighed, taking the child into her arms.

"Matthew," demanded Alexander darkly. Matthew was his favorite pseudo-relative. "Oscar."

"I don't think Oscar was invited, old chap," said Thomas. "What with him being a dog."

"I think I'd better go look for Matthew," said Dahlia, as Alexander appeared to be about to slump into despair. Thomas gave her a wry salute and headed into the crowd, which had only grown. Dahlia saw with some delight that Magnus Bane had appeared, dressed rather like a pirate, with ruby buttons on his waistcoat and ruby jewels in his ears. He definitely raised the tone of the party.

She was halfway across the room, in search of Matthew, when Charles, wobbling a bit as if he'd had too much to drink, climbed up onto a low bench and tapped his family ring against his glass. "Excuse me!" he called, as the noise in the room began to quiet. "I've something I'd like to say."

Dahlia shook her head, Alexander glaring at Charles. "Charles is bad." he said.

Dahlia shook with laughter.

"He is not bad, Alex, he is confused. No one has time for his foolishness though, come now. Let us get you to Matthew." Dahlia said, booping his nose. Alexander giggled.

Dahlia had found Matthew huddled with Thomas and Lucie at the refreshments table.

"Here we are Alec. Fairchild!" she called. Alexander perked up at Matthew. Dahlia smiled, and swung him to Matthew in her arms and back to her like a swing.

"Matthew!" Alexander called, Matthew looked back smiling.  She sighed and placed the child at her hip as she neared the group.

"What are you thinking, Luce?" Thomas was saying as she neared them, he was leaning against the wall of the ballroom, tie loosened. He had nobly danced several dances with Esme Hardcastle before retreating to the safety of the corner near the refreshments table. "You're gazing very thoughtfully at Jamie and Cordelia."

"I was thinking she makes him a better dancer," said Lucie.

Matthew cocked his head to the side. "By the Angel," he said. "Marriage. Did you know James asked me to be his suggenes?"

In Shadowhunter marriage ceremonies, your suggenes was the one who escorted you down the aisle. You could pick anyone in your life—mother, father, brother, best friend. "Well, that's not odd," Lucie said. "Parabatai almost always pick each other."

"It does make one feel very grown-up, sadly I had to decline seeing Daisy and Dahlia wanted the weddings on the same day." said Matthew. He was drinking from the flask in his hand, which to Lucie was not a good sign. Usually at parties where spirits were provided, Matthew would be seen with a wineglass in hand. If he were getting his "drain of pale" from his flask, he must be very determined indeed to be as drunk as possible. His eyes were glittering too, rather dangerously. Perhaps he was angry at Charles? Angry at his parents for accepting Charles's marriage to Grace so easily? Though how could they know? Dahlia wondered, glancing at Henry and Charlotte where they sat at a table at the far end of the room. Henry's Bath chair stood sentry against the wall and the Consul and her husband leaned together, talking softly, their hands entwined. "Although," he added, his eyes narrowing as he gazed past Thomas, "not grown-up enough to put up with that."

Dahlia looked over and saw Alastair Carstairs moving through the crowd toward them. His shoulders were slightly hunched, and his once-again dark hair made him look like a different person.

"Be polite to him, Matthew," said Thomas, straightening. "He was a great help to me when I needed to make the antidote."

"Has anyone tried the lemon tarts?" said Alastair lightly, as he arrived among their group. "You have an excellent cook, Lucie."

Lucie blinked. Matthew set his jaw. "Do not try to make small talk, Alastair," he said. "It gives me a headache."

"Matthew," said Thomas severely. "Do you need to go sit down?"

Matthew shoved his flask back into his jacket with shaking hands. "I do not," he said. "I need Carstairs to leave us alone. Tonight is difficult enough—"

There was no chance for Dahlia to ask why tonight might be difficult, for Alastair had already cut in. He seemed half-annoyed and half-abashed, his voice even but tense. "Can we not put our schooldays behind us?" he said. "If I admit I was a cad, is that enough? How can I apologize?"

"You cannot," said Matthew, his voice very strange, and they all looked at him. Dahlia had the odd sense she was watching someone balanced on a knife's edge; Matthew seemed all sharp angles in that moment, as if he were made of daggers beneath the skin. "Do not think you are our friend now, or welcome among us, regardless of all that has happened."

Thomas frowned. "Matthew," he said, his usually gentle voice remonstrative, "that was the past. It is time for us to be adults and forget childish slights."

"Thomas, you are kind," said Matthew. "Too kind, and you wish to forget. But I am not kind, and I cannot help but remember."

The light had gone from Alastair's eyes. Yet he did not, to Dahlia's surprise, look angry. He looked almost resigned. "Let him say what he wants to say, Thomas."

"You have no right to talk to Thomas in that familiar way," said Matthew. "I never told this to you, Thomas. I couldn't bear to. But better that you know the truth than that you allow this snake to befriend you."

"Matthew—" Thomas began impatiently.

"Do you know what he used to say at school?" Matthew said. "That my mother and your father were lovers. That I was your father's bastard. He told me that Henry was only half a man and couldn't father children, and therefore Gideon had stepped into the breach. He said that your mother was so hideously ugly because of her scarred face that no one could blame your father for looking elsewhere. And that you were a sickly, ugly little thing because you had inherited her weakness of constitution—because she had been a mundane."

Matthew stopped on a sort of gasp, as if even he could not quite believe what he had just said. Thomas stood stock-still, the color draining from his face. Alastair had not moved either. It was Lucie who said, to her own surprise, "He was the source of that awful rumor? Alastair?"

"Not—not the source," Alastair said, his voice sounding as if he were forcing it through a tight throat. "And I did not say all of those things to Matthew—"

"But you did say them to others," Matthew said icily. "I have heard all about it in the years since."

"Yes," Alastair admitted flatly. "I did spread the story. I repeated—those words. I did do that." He turned to Thomas. "I am—"

"Don't say you are sorry." Thomas's lips were gray. "You think I have not heard that tale? Of course I have, though Matthew may have tried to protect me. I have heard my mother weep over it, my father incoherent with rage and sorrow, my sisters crushed with shame over lies—" He broke off, breathless. "You repeated those words without knowing or caring if they were true. How could you?"

"They were just words," said Alastair. "I did not think—"

"You are not who I thought you were," Thomas said, each word cold and sharp. "Matthew is right. This is your sister's engagement party and my closest friend's as well, and for Dahlia's sake, we will mind our manners toward you, Carstairs. But if you come near me or speak to me at any point after this, I will knock you into the Thames."

Dahlia had never in her life heard Thomas speak so icily. Alastair backed away, his expression stunned. Then he turned on his heel and darted into the crowd.

Dahlia heard Matthew murmur something to Thomas, but she did not stay to hear what: she was already racing after Alastair. He ran like there were wings on his feet, and she bolted after him: through the ballroom doors, down the stone steps, finally catching up to him in the entryway. "Alastair, wait!" she cried.

He spun around to look at her and she realized to her shock that he had been crying. In a strange way, she was reminded of the first time she had ever seen a man cry: the day her father had found out his parents were dead.

Alastair dashed the tears furiously from his eyes. "What do you want?"

Dahlia was almost relieved to hear him sound so much himself. "You can't leave."

"What?" he sneered. "Don't you hate me too?"

"Oh Alastair," she whispered. "You may have hurt may people, but you are trying. Trying o be a better person and make amends." she said.

He turned on his heel and ran into the night. Dahlia picked up her dress, aware of Matthew's piercing emerald glare, and ran after Alastair.

♕

"Alastair! " she called, cupping her hands around her mouth. She saw his slumped figure at the Institute's fountain area. She approached him slowly.

"Alastair, look at me, please." she said, sitting next to him. He looked at her with tearful eyes, blinking viciously.

"Stop it, Alastair. Please, give people time, it takes everyone ages to trust someone." she said, placing a gentle hand on hsi shoulder.

"Why are you here, Dahlia. You need to be at your engagement to Matthew, oh the irony." he said bitterly.

Dahlia shook her head stubbornly.

"Alastair Carstairs, look me in the eye and see if I care. I will not let a person who is trying so hard to change simply slip away!" she exclaimed. 

"I have only just made conversation with you since you arrived at London, I remember clearly you trying to take Christopher from to the Silent City. I thank you for that, I am forever in your debt. But please do not think it is hopeless. You have a cause Alastair." she said softly.

She hesitated.

"We-we are special people Alastair. Unique. Something that dumbfounds people." 

He looked stricken. "How-how did you know?" he asked, looking as if he would throw up.

Dahlia gave him a shaky smile. "I-I have always been attracted to both men and women. I remember when I was thirteen, I thought-thought that I had some kind of....illness. Then Matthew was so carefree about it, and Anna, oh Anna could be anything and everything. I haven't told anyone, in fact you and my sister-Ariadne- are the only people who know." she said, fear flashed across her eyes.

Alastair's eyes softened. "Dahlia, I will tell you this, I have been attracted to men my whole life. It was never women, we do not have an illness, Dahlia. It is what makes us exceptional. It is not a curse, it is a blessing. We are something normal people could never fathom. We are in a way magical." he said, his arm across Dahlia's shoulder. She embraced Alastair Carstairs.

"Do not hate yourself, Alastair. I do not hate you, I did distrust you. Now....I am slowly trusting you I think. But do not give up, keep going, one day they will forgive you." she whispered.

Alastair closed his eyes and looked up at the stars.

"I hope so Dahlia, I really do."

Little were either of them aware that Matthew Fairchild was watching their interaction from the institute balcony. They were to far away from him to hear anything, but he could make out their sillouettes. 

Matthew glared at the scene, and drank from his flask, his emerald eyes ablaze.

♕