Tessa found her voice. "Who are you?"
"Oh, my kind doesnt like to give our names, but you can call me whatever you like. You can invent a lovely name for me. Your mother used to call me Hyacinth. "
"The blue flower," Tessa said faintly. "How did you know my mother? You dont look any older than me-"
"After our youth, my kind does not age or die. Nor Will you. Lucky girl! I hope you appreciate the service done you. "
Tessa shook her head in bewilderment. "Service? What service? Are you speaking of Mortmain? Do you know what I am?"
"Do you know what I am?"
Tessa thought of the Codex. "A faerie?" she guessed.
"And do you know what a changeling is?"
Tessa shook her head.
"Sometimes," Hyacinth confided, dropping her voice to a whisper, "when our faerie blood has grown weak and thin, we Will find our way into a human home, and take the best, the prettiest, and the plumpest child-and, quick as a wink, replace the babe with a sickly one of our own. While the human child grows tal and strong in our lands, the human family Will find itself burdened with a dying creature fearful of cold iron. Our bloodline is strengthened-"
"Why bother?" Tessa demanded. "Why not just steal the human child and leave nothing in its place?"
Hyacinths dark blue eyes widened. "Why, because that would not be fair,"
she said. "And it would breed suspicion among the mundanes. They are stupid, but there are many of them. It does not do to rouse their ire. That is when they come with iron and torches. " She shuddered.
"Just a moment," Tessa said. "Are you tell ing me Im a changeling?"
Hyacinth bubbled over with giggles. "Of course not! What a ridiculous thought!" She held her hands to her heart as she laughed, and Tessa saw that her fingers, too, were bound together with blue webbing. Suddenly she smiled, showing glittering teeth. "Theres a very good-looking boy staring over here," she said. "As handsome as a faerie lord! I should leave you to your business. " She winked, and before Tessa could protest, Hyacinth melted back into the crowd.
Shaken, Tessa turned, expecting the "good-looking boy" to be Nate-but it was Will, leaning against the wal beside her. The moment her eyes found him, he turned and began studiously examining the dance floor. "What did that faerie woman want?"
"I dont know," Tessa said, exasperated. "To tell me Im not a changeling, apparently. "
"Well, thats good. Process of elimination. " Tessa had to admit, Will was doing a good job of somehow blending in with the dark curtains behind him, as if he were not there at all. It must have been a Shadowhunter talent. "And what news from your brother?"
She gripped her hands together, looking at the floor while she spoke.
"Jessamines been spying for Nate all this time. I dont know how long exactly. Shes been tell ing him everything. She thinks hes in love with her. "
Will looked unsurprised. "Do you think hes in love with her?"
"I think Nate cares only about himself," said Tessa. "Theres worse, too.
Benedict Lightwood is working for Mortmain. That is why he is scheming to get the Institute. So the Magister can have it. And have me. Nate knows all about it, of course. He doesnt care. " Tessa looked at her hands again.
Jessamines hands. Smal and delicate in their fine white kid gloves. Oh, Nate, she thought. A unt Harriet used to call him her blue-eyed boy.
"I expect that was before he kil ed her," said Will. Only then did Tessa realize she had spoken aloud. "And there he is again," he added, in a mutter, under his breath. Tessa glanced out at the crowd and saw Nate, his fair hair like a beacon, coming toward her. In his hand was a glass of sparkling golden liquid. She turned to tell Will to hurry away, but he had already vanished.
"Fizzy lemonade," said Nate, coming up to her and thrusting the glass into her hand. The ice-cold sides felt good against the heat of her skin. She took a sip; despite everything, it was delicious.
Nate stroked her hair back from her forehead. "Now, you were saying," he said. "You did hide the book in my sisters room . . . "
"Yes, just as you told me to do," Tessa fibbed. "She suspects nothing, of course. "
"I should hope not. "
"Nate . . . "
"Yes?"
"Do you know what the Magister intends to do with your sister?"
"Ive told you, she isnt my sister. " Nates voice was clipped. "And Ive no idea what he plans to do with her, nor any interest. My plans are all for my -our future together. I should hope that you are as dedicated?" Tessa thought of Jessamine, sitting sul enly in the room with the other Shadowhunters while they shuffled through papers about Mortmain; Jessamine fal ing asleep at the table rather than leave when they were discussing plans with Ragnor Fell. And Tessa pitied her even as she hated Nate, hated him so much it felt like fire in her throat. Ive told you, she isnt my sister.
Tessa let her eyes widen, her lip tremble. "Im doing the best I can, Nate,"
she said. "Dont you believe me?"
She felt a faint sense of triumph as she watched him visibly beat back his annoyance. "Of course, darling. Of course. " He examined her face. "Are you feeling better? shall we dance again?"
She clutched the glass in her hand. "Oh, I dont know . . . "
"Of course," Nate chuckled, "they do say a gentleman should dance only the first set or two with his wife. "
Tessa froze. It was as if time had stopped: Everything in the room seemed to freeze along with her, even the smirk on Nates face.