The Last Hours: Chain of Thorns

“I want you to be nice in there,” she said sternly. “I don’t want to hear any comments about how the furniture is shabby and the bust of Apollo has its nose chipped.”

Alastair arched one eyebrow. “My concern is never with the shabbiness of the furniture,” he said loftily, “but the shabbiness of the company.”

“All your Thieves are already upstairs,” she said to Cordelia with a nod, and then turned to take in Alastair with wide eyes. “Cor, who knew the Shadowhunters have been hidin’ their handsomest away until now. What’s your name, love?”

Alastair, shocked into silence for a change, let Cordelia pull him past and up the stairs. “That was—did she really—”

“Fret not,” Cordelia said with a grin. “I shall keep a weather eye out lest she assail your virtue.”

But you cannot fix someone, Cordelia,” she added. “In the end, if they can be fixed at all, they must do the repairs themselves