"𝑰𝒕 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒇 𝑰'𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉, 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆. 𝑪𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰'𝒎 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆."

♛

Later that night, as Dahlia sat by the fireplace in her and Matthew's house on Curzon Street, she thought of all the events that had taken place. It was about one thirty in the morning when she started to drift off.

Then the door flew open greeting in a chilly wind and a flurry of snow along with a very pink Matthew Fairchild.

He closed the door behind him and sighed deeply. "Dahlia," he said. "I am so sorry for my tardiness. Have you been waiting long?" he asked, hanging his coat and taking off his gloves.

"No, Math. Do not worry, I have only been here all of thirty minutes."

Matthew nodded, "Good, good."

He sat down on the seat facing her. "How shall we start?"

"Well, for starters. Why did you go to Paris with Cordelia after asking me the exact same thing?"

Matthew looked as though he'd been asked to swallow a rather nasty sauce. "She was sad. To be fair, I was, well, infatuated with her for a few months after her arrival. She came to our doorstep, a mess and confused, and in that moment I did not consider much as I should have. I went with her to offer her something, some kind of solace."

"But you told her you loved her-"

"I did not love her the way I thought I did. I realized that too late," he said, looking at anywhere but Dahlia.

"Which is?"

"Like I would give my soul for her. As if when I look at her I want to spend the rest of my existence with her. That is something I realized I had only felt with you."

Dahlia looked at the fireplace. She did not want him to see her tears. "Do you mean that Matthew? Are you not saying sweet nothings just because your romantic adventure with Cordelia did not work?"

"I truly mean that Dahlia," his voice shook. "I mean it with all my being."

He came to sit on his knees in front of her. He took her hands in his, forcing her to look at him. "I love you Dahlia, in a way I have never loved anyone else. I would follow you until there is no tomorrow. To wake up next to you forever would be fulfilling my greatest desire, to be a father to our child would be my greatest blessing. I swear to the Angel Dahlia, you could have walked into that Academy with four eyes and a tentacle for a head and I probably would have fallen in love with you. I know everything about you, even the parts you think make you awful and I do not want to live without you."

Dahlia was sobbing now. He leaned over and wiped her tears off the best he could. "Please don't cry."

Dahlia caressed his cheek, too hollow, she thought. "I better not regret this, Fairchild." she whispered.

The smile that lit up his face made Dahlia realize exactly why she had fallen in love with Matthew Fairchild.

"Does this mean you forgive me?" He asked, almost like he was too scared to ask. Dahlia nodded, "Yes, yes it does."

Then he kissed her and Dahlia had finally come back home.

♛

Later, they lay in bed till the sun started pouring through the windows. Matthew drew lazy circles over her stomach.

Dahlia had finally been able to sleep properly for the first time in weeks. She did not want to admit how much for this she had missed. She turned into Matthew, curling up into him. He placed a soft kiss on her head.

"What is it, love?"

Dahlia shook her head. "It is just that we have never been this...calm before. So sure of each other that I am scared it will all fall away."

Matthew wrapped an arm around her waist pulling her so close to him that all she could breathe was his comforting scent of vanilla and cedar wood.

"This is our forever Dahlia, and I feel like we have earned this. Nothing is going to fall apart."

"You cannot say that, Math. We don't know where Belial is nor what he is planning. Tatiana is in close proximity with Grace and Raziel knows what will become of it. Who knows what they are planning? We might not get our forever Matthew."

"Then what we had and have right now is more valuable to me than the promise of forever."

She smiled at him. He looked at her. "How long have you been with child?"

"I believe I am five weeks along but I did not ask the Silent Brothers."

"Do you not want to know the exact amount of time?"

"Of course I do, I just wanted you to be there when I did and I was not sure if you would be there again."

He kissed her on the lips this time. So fiercely, it scared her. "When do you see the Silent Brothers, again?"

"In a fortnight," Dahlia replied. He smiled against her lips. "I'll clear out my day then."

Dahlia laughed, pulling away. "You act as though you have a business to attend to."

Realization struck Matthew's face immediately followed by guilt. "Dahlia, the Enclave is having a meeting at the Institute today for the whole Tessa being Belial's daughter issue."

"Oh, bloody hell. I forgot. We must go immediately, get dressed Matthew we can eat breakfast later."

♛

The meeting was held in the chapel, which already made Dahlia feel grim. Up on the altar stood Bridgestock, Charlotte, and Will. The Enclave filled the pews: Dahlia had scanned the room for her friends the moment they arrived, and cast as reassuring a glance as she could at Lucie and James, who sat in the front pew with Tessa and Jesse. Everyone else was there was well, even Anna, looking stern and furious between her father and Ari. (Cecily, it was to be presumed, was in the infirmary with Alexander.)

"The events in Cornwall have obviously disturbed me greatly," Bridgestock declaimed, "and in combination with the claims of Tatiana Blackthorn, I must say that the failure to protect us from Belial has greatly shaken my trust in the Herondales' leadership." He cast a dark glance at Will. "Now, I am not necessarily saying that you are in league with demons," said Bridgestock.

"What a compliment," said Will coldly. 

"But," the Inquisitor went on smoothly, "Tatiana Blackthorn certainly told one truth—that Belial is Tessa's father. A truth that has been concealed from all of us, all these years. Well," he added with a sarcastic nod at Charlotte, "from most of us."

"This was all settled years ago," Charlotte said. "Tessa is a Shadowhunter in good standing, in addition to being a warlock. It is a situation unique to her, caused by a mundane with a specific ill intent, unlikely to ever be repeated. The identity of the demon who fathered her was not known to anyone, even to Tessa, until recently. And regardless, we do not believe warlocks to be in league with their demon parents."

"With all due respect," said Bridgestock, "most warlocks' demon parent is an anonymous, minor demon, not one of the Nine Princes. Most Shadowhunters have never faced a Prince of Hell. But I have," he thundered, which made Dahlia feel cross. He hadn't so much faced Belial, had he, as passed out in his presence. "I cannot tell you of the depth of his vile evil. To think he is the parent of Tessa Herondale makes me shudder." 

"I remember these discussions," said Charlotte. "Twenty-five years ago. I was there. So were you, Maurice. The ravings of Tatiana Blackthorn, who is by her own admission an ally of Belial, should not disinter this debate from its long-ago burial."

After a moment of silence, Eunice Pounceby piped up, the flowers on her hat trembling with her agitation. "Perhaps they shouldn't, Charlotte. But... they do."

"What are you saying, Eunice?" Tessa asked. Though Cordelia knew her real age, Tessa still looked only about twenty. She was dressed plainly, her hands folded in front of her. Cordelia felt the sort of desperate pity for her she would have felt for a girl her own age, staring down the barrel of the Enclave's anger.

"What Eunice is saying," said Martin Wentworth, "is that while it may be true that we have all known Mrs. Herondale to be a warlock, for many years now, the fact that her demon parent is a Prince of Hell, and that you

have all known and concealed it—well, it might be within the letter of the Law, but it does not inspire trust."

A murmur went through the crowd. Bridgestock said, "It seems the London Enclave has lost faith in the Herondales to run our Institute. Indeed, had they but spoken earlier, I might not bear now the terrible branded sigil upon my arm." He scowled.

"You do not speak for the Enclave," said Esme Hardcastle unexpectedly. "Perhaps Tessa did know that her father was Belial. Why would she tell anyone, when the result would be this—this tribunal?"

To Dahlia's surprise, Charles rose to his feet. "This is not a tribunal," he said. His face looked strained, as if some unseen force were pulling his skin too tight. "This is a meeting we are holding to decide what our next steps will be." 

Nothing could have prepared her for what happened next.

 "We?" said Will. He was looking at Charles with a sort of hurt bewilderment—was Charles trying to be helpful? 

He had not stopped speaking. He turned to look around the room, his mouth a hard line. "I'm the only one of my family who will have the courage to say it," he said. "But the Inquisitor is right."

Dahlia's gaze shot to Matthew. His eyes were squeezed tight, as though he were trying to shut out everything around him. Henry, beside him, looked as if he were going to be sick. Charlotte stood motionless, but the effort it took her was clear. 

Dahlia felt nausea crawl up her stomach. She clutched Matthew's hand in hers as tight as she could.

"I have known the Herondales all my life," Charles said. "But the revelation of this terrible secret has shaken us all. I wish to assure you all, I was not made aware of it, even if my mother knew. I believe the Herondales had a duty to share it, and that my mother had the same duty. My loyalty to family cannot account for this unconscionable omission."

There was a terrible silence. Dahlia stared at Charles. What was he doing? Was he truly so loathsome that he would betray his own family? But then she remembered what Ariadne had said, how Maurice tended to blackmail people. What if he had blackmailed Charles?

"Charles," Gideon said wearily. "You speak to protect your own ambition, though the Angel knows what has so corrupted your heart. There is no evidence whatsoever to indicate any alliance between the Herondales and Belial, though you are trying to imply otherwise—"

"I am not saying that," Charles snapped.

"But you are implying it," Gideon said. "It is a cynical ploy. At a time when the Enclave must come together, to defeat the threat Belial still poses, you are trying to divide us."

"He speaks for those who did not know until yesterday," Bridgestock cried, "that the Institute was inhabited by the offspring of a Prince of Hell! Has he truly never made an overture, never reached out to his blood—"

James shot to his feet. He looked as he did when he held his pistol in his hand, an avenging angel, with eyes like chips of gold. "If he were to reach out," he snarled, "we would refuse him."

Beside her, Cordelia started to rise, but to Dahlia's surprise, Christopher stopped her. Christopher, who she had assumed was in the infirmary. He was looking at her with an uncharacteristic seriousness, his eyes dark purple behind his owlish glasses.

"Come with me," he said quietly. "Quickly. No one will notice in all this fuss."

Cordelia looked over at her, Dahlia shrugged as if to say he had no more idea than she did what Christopher wanted. "Christopher," Cordelia whispered. "I must speak for them—"

"If you truly wish to help James," Christopher said, and there was an intensity in his voice that Dahlia hadn't heard in a while, "come with me. There is something you must know." 

♛

Eventually, as the shouting reached a fever pitch, a recess was called for everyone to calm down. As people began to cluster into small groups—the Herondales and Lightwoods together, she saw Alastairross the room to Charles, who was standing obstinately alone, and fall into conversation with him. Well, it wasn't quite a conversation—whatever Alastair was saying, it was low and furious, accompanied by urgent gestures. Charles stood looking off into the air, as if Alastair was not there. 

And then she saw her father. As he stepped down from the altar and ducked through a side door, she rose to her feet. Dahlia gently touched Matthew's shoulder before departing. 

Beyond it was a stone-bound corridor, in which her father was pacing. He looked smaller than he had up on the altar, the focus of all eyes. He muttered as he paced, though she could catch only a few of the words —"Belial" and "have to see the truth" and, one of his favorite words, "unfair."

"Father," she said. "What have you done?"

He looked up. "This isn't any of your concern, Dahlia."

"You must know that none of what you have said is true."

"I know no such thing," he snapped.

"If there is a lack of faith in the Herondales, it is only because you have created it."

He shook his head. "I would have thought you would give me more credit than that," he said. "I am not the villain in a play where the Herondales are the heroes. Tessa Herondale is the child of a Greater Demon. And they lied about it." 

"In the face of blind prejudice, one curls in on oneself," A voice said behind them. Ari. "It is not something you would understand. Will acted to protect his wife, James and Lucie to protect their mother. Against the hatred you are whipping up right now. A hatred born out of fear, out of the blind belief that the blood in Tessa's veins, in her children's veins, matters more than every act of heroism or kindness she has ever performed."

His face crumpled into a look that mixed fury with a terrible sort of pity. "They have drawn you in," he rasped. "The Herondales, who came from nowhere to rule over us, magic users all. And the Lightwoods, the children of Benedict, who famously consorted with demons, so much so that eventually it killed him. Whatever was twisted up in his heart is there, you know, in the blood of his children and his grandchildren. Including that half-woman who has taken you under her wing—"

"Don't speak about Anna in that way," Ari said in a clear and calm voice. "She has shown me more kindness of late than any of my own family." 

"You left," he said. "You took your things, the things we have given you over the years, and you went to live with that Lightwood creature. You

could still come home, you know." His voice had taken on a wheedling quality. "If you swear you will never see any of these people again. The Herondales, the Lightwoods—they are a sinking ship. It would be wise for you to disembark while you still can."

Ari shook her head. "Never."

"It's a dangerous path you're on," her father said. "One that ends in ruin. It is out of kindness that I wish to save you—"

"Kindness?" Ari said. "Not love? The love you owe a daughter?"

"A daughter is not defiant. A daughter is obedient. A daughter cares for her parents, protects them—"

Dahlia cringed at the words out of her father's mouth. She despised this man.

 "As James and Lucie are protecting Tessa?" Dahlia shook her head. "You cannot see it, Father. You are too blinded by your hatred. The Herondales are not criminals. They are not, for instance, blackmailers."

It was an arrow shot blindly, but Dahlia saw it hit its mark. Her father flinched and stared at her in horror.

"The letter," he whispered. "The fireplace—"

"I don't know what you mean," Dahlia said blandly. "I only know this. The further you push this, Father, the more you, too, will come under scrutiny. Only be sure you can bear such scrutiny of your every action. Most men could not." 

♛