The depth of the blue color of the cobalt sky mimicked the ocean during a storm surge. The friction between the earth and the atmosphere made the air humid, and Matthew felt like he was still on a ship being tossed about the sea. The scent of lavender contributed to the beautiful nicety of the scenery—he pictured a page right of one of Lucie’s manuscripts. But it wasn't for him, to his surprise.
The sky was sliced by slate clouds, triggering brilliant gold beams that weighed heavily against the brush and trees. There was a strong gust of wind, fallen leaves turning and spinning as if in a dance across the sandy road.
Stray strands of sun peeked out through the gray clouds and chased rogue shadows across the promenade. The light ignited the vibrant grassy fields beyond the road, before the thick blades turned yellow. Matthew shivered with the chill of an impending autumn despite the warmth of the vibrant sun.
The thin iridescent rays ran through the weeds and wildflowers, chasing one another into the darkness beyond the promenade. The twining gold threads of light were winding around his desolate heart as they were chased away by the approaching storm.
As he felt he was being chased away.
The sun dipped and the cloud cover thickened, cold kissed the air, and the atmosphere grew heavily with the scent of rain. Cold hands and a forgotten nostalgia warped the landscape, twisting it into something formed from memory. Jagged shadows of his childhood pinned Matthew to the tree. The grievance isolated him in the past.
He shifted his weight, his body on edge and uncomfortable. His mind was craving a lofty room in the Devil Tavern, and his body a space by the fire to breathe. Matthew blinked, squinted into the glare, and pretended everything was fine.
It was not.
Sadness and betrayal so deeply ripped through his abdomen and pressed in and against his chest, crushing his lungs. The pain divided more space between his ribs, making it difficult to breathe. Many distant voices echoed the negativity he sang in his head, the things he felt to be true. Every silent word deepened his isolation from Cordelia.
Anger, predictable and unfledged, soon overtook the lost longing he had felt for weeks meddling in his mind. The unnecessary pain prickled his skin as he quietly watched Cordelia watch the others prancing about, exposing their obvious happiness.
Frustration wore him down, and the urge to crawl out of his skin peaked as rain began to trickle down from the sky. He grit his teeth as his calloused hands gripped the rough bark, trying to remember the last time he was alone with Cordelia. Matthew struggled to clear his mind as varied emotions collided and shifted like the tides.
He needed to get a grip.
Resplendent sunlight pierced the Thames fog like a pin as the drizzle ended and a rainbow appeared overhead mere moments later. Birds sang cheerily as the sun returned, but Matthew ignored them along with the people rushing out from the trees back to the road of the promenade.
The crowd of men and women gathered and cheered. Children sang, and men threw up their hats as women laughed. Their jovial mood had been contrasting with his loneliness, yet the determination within him grew. He clung to resolve as hope battled isolation, and he could not let the chance escape. He needed to ask. He needed to know.
Estrangement from Cordelia troubled him, and he felt empty those months away despite being with someone. Joyous memories of her smile sharpened his yearning, as sanguinity and fear battled within him. He needed honesty. He needed both of them to be forthright, but Matthew was defeated by doubt. He counted to ten in his head, steadying himself as conflicting feelings surged.
“Why marry him if James doesn’t love you?” Matthew finally asked, his voice taut—breaking the unbearable silence. Pain cracked his words, and it was clear he had thought about asking this for some time. He shuffled his feet, and he looked devastated, as if he already knew the answer. Matthew anxiously twisted his rings, searching her face for solace or comfort. Some clue that he was wrong in his assumption.
Time had dulled his feelings for Cordelia, it was true. It was easy to forget London when useless knowledge, trysts, and mysteries took up space in your head. Now looking at her, everything he felt before came rushing back. His heart sank as he awaited her answer.
In Paris, forgetting had been easy and unexpected. He buried his love, clinging to a fantasy while occupying himself with his own adventures.
But now, here outside in the open with her, Matthew grew sad as she stood before him—quiet and uneasy. The tepid moment felt awkward, like right before a storm surged. Time felt shuffled and slow, as if life had transformed into a single moment. He took a deep breath, and the weight was hot in his chest as the clock kept ticking.
Cordelia blinked and took a quick breath, swiveling her head to look directly at him. She had been studying the couple walking by them arm in arm. The woman was resplendent in a dress of lavender, and the man was handsome in his attire as well. But something odd struck Cordelia about them, and she could not quite put her finger on what it was. They seemed hesitant, as if parading themselves about was not the intention. The woman had her arm in the man’s, but she appeared unable to touch him, her fingers barely caressing the sleeve of his jacket. There was a noticeable gap between them. Truth be told, Cordelia wasn’t ready for this conversation with Matthew and would never be. She knew the words of her carefully planned answer were coming, but her nerves betrayed her entire mindset. “It is the right thing to do.”
She spoke plainly, flat as if it were self-evident to both. Matthew’s jaw clenched at Cordelia’s quiet composure, which was a reaction he was sure was a counterresponse to his anguish.
Her detachment from her own wedding unsettled him to the point of quiet hysteria. He sent silent prayers to Raziel in the hope that she was reaching a breaking point.
That she realized the wedding—saving hers and James's reputations wasn’t worth a lifetime of feeling unloved.
Matthew stepped back, then forward. He was uncertain whether to leave or approach; his hands kept neatly in his pockets, although his fingers were trembling. As he moved closer, potential mixed with dread, leaving him unsure.
He wanted to be close but feared the outcome, torn between reaching out and retreating. For a moment, uncertainty kept him silent and still as a statue, then he finally asked, "Is it?"
 His voice merged with hope and fear. His words sounded painfully hollow to his ears. He kept his heart open, giving it to Cordelia for the taking. He moved again, his feet inching towards her.
Cordelia fidgeted as he approached, sweat beading at her hairline. Her confidence wavered like the wind as she caught a whiff of his citrus cologne in the air. He wore a green suit that matched his eyes, a cranberry vest, and a white shirt. His muscles were visible beneath the thin fabric of his jacket. She knew his skin was still tan. She remembered how it felt to touch those muscles--how it felt to be close to him. But what would the feel of those hands feel like on my body?
The thought strangled her---it had come out of the blue. She gasped before speaking, regaining her composure. Her chest was hot and heavy. Her heart was like lead. Dread came, a cold pit in her stomach.
“Yes, it is. I’m sure,” Cordelia said. Her voice was edged with the adoration she suddenly felt towards Matthew, gripping her body. Doubt that he believed her gnawed at her, but she remained firm. She dusted imaginary lint from her skirts, gloved hand steady, though she wanted to wrap it around his throat. She had hoped for a boring and pleasant afternoon, but the day gave way to a deeper attachment.
An unwanted feeling. Tempation.
Matthew’s blond hair caught up in the light as he stepped from the shadow to her side. He was beautiful like a Greek god in the steady stream of sunlight. It was as if the Angel himself was illuminating Matthew in this tender moment.
“I could give you more, Daisy. You know I’d stay loyal, but you keep shutting me out. Why marry someone who doesn’t love you?” He said, his voice choked with emotion. He was honest and earnest. He would be faithful if Daisy ended her engagement to James.
Money wasn’t the reason, nor any type of propriety. He knew all three families were very respected and well-off.  He wondered at Cordelia’s insistence on the marriage between her and James. Matthew was hoping her reputation was the only reason she would reject him.
He hoped Cordelia's heart would change so she’d choose him. Smog from the square and mist from the forest clung to him, amplifying his desolation. Hope shimmered like the flames of a fire, then her response snuffed it out like water.
“I…I need to marry James. Please, let's talk about something else, Matthew.” Cordelia said, her cheeks highlighted with embarrassment. "We can talk about anything but the wedding." Her dark eyes stared at him as if she did not know what else to say. Her lips pouted, her tongue clicking her teeth.
He needed courage to let go, and she wanted to change the subject.
The wedding loomed like a dark cloud over their heads. Matthew knew his chances were slipping each day. He felt as if he were losing his mind whenever he thought of Daisy and her long, red hair. He had not thought of her much on the ship, the overwhelming glumness of his general purpose a loose cannon in his mind.
But now, all he thought about was Cordelia, despite keeping her name out of his mouth as much as possible.
Talking to Lucie usually helped, but uncertainty lingered when she asked which lady he was referring to when he spoke of love. She had become his unlikely close confidant, like a little sister. She was still kind to him, and he now found that he admired her in a different way than he had in the past. Â
His moods shifted—sometimes calm, sometimes unraveling, but he was always tranquil in her presence. Peace at night was a rarity for Matthew.  He often wandered barefoot in the Institute’s dark halls. Sometimes he explored the hidden passages or visited the ghostly gardens.
Welsh lessons with Lucie brought a new interest in life during the day. He figured out that he genuinely did like to be enlightened by new knowledge. Learning anchored his focus, and her directness cut his distractions. He wanted to make her proud, and he did.
Cordelia’s waning interest made him restless. Each time she looked away, loneliness crept back, followed by hope wrestling with fear. His weak smile brought vulnerability to his eyes. As dusk settled, her silence gave brief calm before nightfall stirred fresh doubts.
Couples strolled by—some muted and hesitant, others bold in colors and proposals. Matrons, cranky, whispered about the engaged ladies; governesses, tired, murmured about the single gentlemen.
Spoilt children, wide awake, darted from their bedtime. Men cracked old leather carriage whips; young dogs chased feral cats. The fish oil in the street lanterns burned bright, lighting up the sky.
The crowd that remained on the promenade unsettled Matthew. Few noticed them today, and for that he was thankful. Before leaving, Matthew used glamour to seek privacy with Cordelia.
He studied her now, hope flaring, then curdling to regret. He wondered if Flask could help him move on, torn between kissing her and feeling nothing but despair.
Each morning, he met Lucie for breakfast, therapy, and Welsh. After lunch, he sparred with Thomas or worked in the lab with Kit. Evenings brought tea and laughter. Stories with James and Lucie, but Cordelia hadn’t seen him since his return. She never visited the hospital or Silent City.
She never accompanied James or Lucie to tea or his lessons.
To Matthew’s surprise, Lucie supported him.
She steadied him through bleak months when James and Thomas went to Idris to plead his case with the Clave and Inquisitor. No, with her, he honestly relaxed. He could be truly himself.
 The old Matthew.
Cordelia didn't write. He wondered what he’d done that could have repulsed her enough to stay far away.
When James and Lucie avoided his questions, guilt grew inside him like a weed. He recalled their last conversation: collected his memories. He remembered as he lost composure, Cordelia looked relieved. He wasn’t sure if it was because he’d broken down or if it was because he was finally giving her a wayward piece of himself.
Cordelia watched him now as if she were looking into a glass. Dear, dear Matthew—bronzed skin, blond hair, strong jaw—appeared flawless, but to her, he was a sock needing mending. He would always be needy. He would always need someone holding him up as he fell apart.
Cordelia did not think she was the person he needed her to be.
She concealed her anxiety about her wedding by keeping busy with wedding business and societal obligations. Dress fittings, lessons, and cake tastings replaced romance. She worried about Matthew and valued others' support for him during his difficult time.
Torn between self-protection and caring for Matthew, Cordelia struggled daily. Watching him unravel about her engagement to James reminded her of her father’s struggles; the emotional weight was almost unbearable. Guilt kept her distant, even as concern drew her toward him, leaving her caught in indecision.
Watching him now in the grip of sobriety, she felt cautious and hopeful. Her heart beat with renewed adoration—emotions she’d once wanted, now shadowed by uncertainty. His tense shoulders, outlined by her hat’s shadow, filled her with doubt. She debated if silence still protected them, but worry broke through.
“I don’t understand. How can you marry him?” Matthew blurted and then pressed his hand to his mouth, fingers grazing his lip. His feet were already inching forward. “Why don't you care that he doesn’t love you?”
“It doesn’t matter how James feels. Marriage will save our reputation after my lie. The vows and celebration are Will and Tessa’s attempt to rewrite our story.” Cordelia’s smile faded, and she sounded wounded and angry. Loving James was hard to discuss with his parabatai, but Matthew was still her friend. She still owed him some kind of explanation. “Or to prove to James and Lucie that their legacy is true.”
Matthew was momentarily stunned. He had always thought Will and Lucie believed James. He never considered otherwise.
"What legacy? The terror of ducks?" Matthew asked, stifling a laugh and pretending not to know what Cordelia was talking about. He’d known that one for ages and still found it comical. "I thought only males were afflicted—"
Cordelia laughed, cheeks flushing. “Yes, silly—Lucie likes ducklings.”
They both laughed, tension melting away, and Matthew stared at her longingly. Then Cordelia grew quiet, her gaze darkening with a hidden vulnerability. "The Herondale legend—Will says anyone with that name loves only once. I believed it once. I thought I was James’s soulmate, but now I’m not sure."
"If that’s true, why go through with a loveless marriage?" Matthew asked. He didn’t really believe James and Lucie could only love once, but he let Cordelia hold onto the Herondale family story. “Why choose him?”
Her smile vanished. She saw no way to stop the wedding, only to go forward, determined to save James. She knew things with Matthew would only get worse. “I am choosing him, even without his love.”
Matthew pressed on, serious. "Why not tell Will the truth? You could avoid disgrace. Your name will recover after the gossip. People will move on, and your reputation will be fine. You will marry someone who loves you, Daisy. "
Cordelia knew Matthew could be right. But he would never fully understand why she chose James. It wasn’t just reputation or rules. It was pure connection. Unfounded and wild.
When she looked into James's gold eyes, she saw James’s heart. Resolve brought her to her knees; her longing for James clashed with societal duty. Time might clear her name, but ending the engagement would scar her for life. She could never abandon James—not now, or ever.
She felt ashamed for not visiting Matthew, but staying away seemed necessary to both their sanity. Every hesitation about going out the door to visit him brought a wish to comfort him, clashing sharply with her pain at his suffering. Guilt grew, filling her thoughts as memories of her father’s struggles crept in—she couldn’t bear to see Matthew in similar pain, fearing it might break her resolve to keep her distance.
Cordelia wanted James, but also longed for Matthew. Her heart split, and she was filled with guilt, her breathing intensifying as these feelings collided.
Before, guilt would have made her step away, but as longing won, the smell of him drew her close. She suddenly embraced him, breathing in his scent of orange soap and mint. Desire surged, but remembering her promise to James instantly tempered her yearning. She held back.
Cordelia admitted into his chest, voice trembling, “James matters more to me than survival.”
Matthew, reckless in love, grew frustrated with James’s lies. He swallowed, hoping Cordelia understood his plight. He kissed the top of her head and put his hand on her back, fingers lightly tracing the flowered embroidery. “But he doesn’t love you as I do.”
Cordelia sighed, close to crying. She was holding back the urge to kiss him in response. She steadied her voice and leaned on him for support. Her arms were wrapped tight around his torso. "It wouldn’t matter if I loved you, Math. If we ran away, we would be caught. You have to let go of me. James and I are marrying in a few weeks, and you are his parabatai—his brother."
Matthew felt torn, hope flickering in his eyes as her words weighed on him. He knew she was right, but refused to be pushed back so roughly. Frustration at her resignation battled with his desire to comfort her. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, trying to steady himself and stay calm before gently lifting and cupping her face—his actions shifting as he moved from inner conflict to gentle comfort.
The rain began falling again, drenching them as they stood together beneath the canopy of trees. The sky was already a dark amethyst, and the pink opal of the moon hung in the sky like a gem. The colors reflected off the surface, giving the sky an array of pastel colors just above the tree tops. Twilight.
Matthew could not stand the vulnerability he saw in Cordelia's dark eyes. His body moved of its own compulsion, his eyes entirely focused on hers. He leaned down, slowly, as she tilted her head up. They closed their eyes as their lips met, soft and sweet. Thunder roared beyond the promenade and lightning crackled in the distance as their arms reached for one another. The rain poured down on them, hair dripping along their faces as their fingers moved, tracing each other's bodies. Rain water dripped down their faces, landing on their lips. He pressed his mouth harder against hers, eager to devour her entirely.
His tongue was a moment away from slipping into her mouth when Cordelia abruptly pushed back, her eyes springing open. She did not uncurl herself from Matthew's grasp on her waist, but her cheeks flushed and he could tell she was embarrassed.
"Math, I...I..." Cordelia began, stuttering and breathless. Her hands remained on his chest, her palms wide spread. Cordelia’s eyes were sincere and wide. "I don't know what to say."
"Say that you do mind that he still wants Grace. I do not understand how can you stay with someone who loves someone else. It is beyond cruel," Matthew said, pretending he was not upset that Cordelia broke the kiss. His body reacted otherwise, however, by loosening his grip on her, his other hand now gently twisting her loose hair. Her skin smelled like toasted vanilla and was soft like silk. Matthew felt like he was on the cusp of losing all control. Â "Have you thought about yourself, Daisy?"
Cordelia grew more tense as she realized Matthew might be right. Her lips still tingled from his kiss, and she fought the childish urge to wipe the feeling away. She swallowed, being caught between remembering Matthew's affection, which once meant so much, and her feelings for James. The warmth she once felt for Matthew made her shiver with excitement, but now that she was engaged to James. With her feelings in limbo, Cordelia’s heart leaned toward loyalty, even as she still had doubts about the honesty of James’s heart.
This kiss would stay only between the two of them. It had to. James could never find out.
She exhaled the hot breath she had not realized she was holding. Taking another breath, her forehead clammy, she struggled to stay firm as she pulled Matthew’s hand away from her face and let go of him. “You can never tell," she said abruptly, feeling guilty. "No one. Not Lucie, not Thomas. No one must know."
Nothing could change her connection with James—not even an interest in another on either side. Even if she was hurting Matthew. It didn’t matter. She would be bound to James body and soul.
Matthew frowned, shoving his own shame down. "I will not say a word."
Cordelia sighed as she noticed a strange rune on Matthew’s neck as his hand fell to his side. Any warmth she felt towards him vanished as she looked at the unfamiliar mark, trying to remember if she had seen it in the Codex. She pulled away from Matthew, both in her feelings and in her actions, knowing she needed to keep her distance. Her eyebrows narrowed, and she licked her lips, wiping his kiss away.
Cordelia forced a bright smile, even though she didn’t feel it as she stepped back. "Yes, Math. I have thought about myself in this arrangement with James, and I stand by my decision despite what just transpired."
She straight faced lied to Matthew. She straightened out her spine. She hadn’t really thought about her own needs or wants, but her body tingled in places that hadn't in a long time after she kissed Matthew.
Neither of them could face the truth, and she didn’t want to hurt him more than she already had. She would rather let him believe he meant everything to her as a friend than tell him how she really felt and lead him down a path she could not consider to go down.
Cordelia knew that she had already betrayed herself and James. She couldn’t keep playing with Matthew's heart. She needed to lie to him. She needed him to let go of her.
She hadn’t wanted to have this conversation. Guilt had driven her out of the house and now it was back, creeping into her heart.
Cordelia loved both James and Matthew.
Matthew was in love with Cordelia.
James was in love with Grace and Cordelia.
Matthew stared at her in shock, having half-expected Cordelia to call off the engagement when he asked. He frowned and glanced down at the blueberry bush he was standing next to. He hid his tears as he picked blueberries, brushing them onto his cranberry-colored vest.
He spoke quietly, hoping to change her mind. "Cordelia, you care. I see it every time he mentions her or looks at her. I don’t know why Lucie keeps including her. That girl is trouble."
Matthew tried not to look at Cordelia, but glanced at her anyway. His pain was present in every sense of his body language. Cordelia needed a barrier. Something to separate her from his anguish. A single word would put distance between them, but she wasn’t sure she wanted that.
“No, Matthew. I don’t care about his feelings or why Lucie wants Grace around.” Cordelia spoke firmly, her jaw set as if the other girl’s name hurt. She took a breath and met his eyes, letting go of the pain corroding her eyes. “Honestly.”
Matthew scoffed at Cordelia’s lie, knowing she was only half truthful. He bit his lip then grew serious, his green eyes darkening to a shade that reminded her of oak leaves in summer. He stared at her, hoping she would reconsider. He blinked as he handed her the blueberries. "Do you love him? James? Is that why you’re going through with the wedding?"
Cordelia started to answer, but stayed silent as she took the berries in her hand. The sky was darkening like the mood between them. Her heart sank and her eyes were hooded.
Yes, yes, yes!
Matthew watched her carefully as he put a few berries in his mouth, chewing them with the two mint leaves he had been given. Lucie had suggested it, and it seemed to help with his tremors. “Well, do you?”
Cordelia ate a few blueberries, enjoying their tart taste before swallowing. As the rain finally slowed to a stop and the thunder grew quieter, the night seemed to resume festivities. She could hear faint music and voices in the distance.
“My feelings don’t matter either. Whether you or anyone else agrees, this is happening, Matthew. The Enclave has already started getting ready.”
“But you still have time to call it off or change your mind,” Matthew mumbled as he reached for her hand. “They can’t make you do this, Cordelia, they can’t if you don’t love James.”
“We already have the Inquisitor’s approval, and the Consul has agreed,” Cordelia said, her voice flat as she gently moved away from Matthew. She leaned on her closed parasol, her hands resting on it as she looked at the fruit in her hand, staining her white glove purple. It was getting late. She should have been at home by now, but she did not want to leave. Not quite yet. “There’s no going back now, Math. Please, be happy for us.”
The way she said his name broke his heart, but he still felt he had to tell her how he felt. He hated himself for it, but he went ahead. He cleared his throat, dropped the rest of the berries from his hand, and said, “I hate to agree with your brother, but he’s right. Do yourself a favor: don’t give your heart to James, even if you go through with this wedding. He’ll only take your heart and give it to Grace to break.”
Cordelia scoffed, but inside, his words hurt her, and she wished she had never heard them. She frowned as Matthew stepped on the berries he had dropped, crushing them into the ground. Her dark eyebrows narrowed as she watched him act like a rotten child. “You are just being a poor sport, Matthew.”
It was true that she couldn’t believe he agreed with Alastair, but she was even more surprised and hurt that he thought his own parabatai wasn’t worthy of her love, even if it was one-sided. How could he believe that?
“So what if I am,” he said crossing his arms over his chest. “It doesn’t change anything.”
That alone annoyed her.
“You agree with Alastair? The same Alastair who bullied you at the Academy?” she asked, her voice angry. "What else has my brother said to Thomas, whom I assume told you of my personal affairs?”
Matthew took a deep breath, his heart pounding as the silence grew heavy between them. The sounds of the promenade faded, replaced by their heartbeats. Had he gone too far? “Yes, well, your brother has said a lot about your predicament to Thomas, and it has been spread to me. Unfortunately, Alastair seems to be right about your situation.”
“So then, if not James, who should I give my precious heart to, Matthew Fairchild? You?” She scoffed, laughing. After a long moment of him staring at her, she frowned.
Matthew nodded.
"You can not be serious," she said after a moment, a hint of a smile on her blueberry-stained lips. She shook her head as she popped the last two sour berries into her mouth. “Seriously? I am good enough for you, but not James. ”
Matthew grinned, his pearly teeth taking up his mouth. He lit up, and it was like a beam of sunlight sailing across his face in the night.
“Yes.”
