Clockwork Prince by Cassandra Clare

wistful again, but not as bleak as he had before. He reached out to stroke Church, who had slept through their entire conversation and the sound of the falling log in the fireplace, and was still stretched out on the book stand, paws in the air.
    “Will—,” Tessa began, but it was too late. Church made a yowling noise at being woken, and lashed out with his claws. Will began to swear. Tessa left, unable to hide the slightest of smiles as she went.

A J OURNEY
     
    Friendship is one mind in two bodies.
    —Meng-tzu
     
    Charlotte slammed the paper down onto her desk with an exclamation of rage. “Aloysius Starkweather is the most stubborn, hypocritical, obstinate, degenerate—” She broke off, clearly fighting for control of her temper. Tessa had never seen Charlotte’s mouth so firmly set into a hard line.
    “Would you like a thesaurus?” Will inquired. He was sprawled in one of the wing-back armchairs near the fireplace in the drawing room, his boots up on the ottoman. They were caked with mud, and now so was the ottoman. Normally Charlotte would have been taking him to task for it, but the letter from Aloysius that she had received that morning, and that she had called them all into the drawing room to discuss, seemed to have absorbed all her attention. “You seem to be running out of words.”
    “And is he really degenerate ?” Jem asked equably from the depths of the other armchair. “I mean, the old codger’s almost ninety—surely past real deviancy.”
    “I don’t know,” said Will. “You’d be surprised at what some of the old fellows over at the Devil Tavern get up to.”
    “Nothing anyone you know might get up to would surprise us, Will,” said Jessamine, who was lying on the chaise longue, a damp cloth over her forehead. She still had not gotten over her headache.
    “Darling,” said Henry anxiously, coming around the desk to where his wife was sitting, “are you quite all right? You look a bit—splotchy.”
    He wasn’t wrong. Red patches of rage had broken out over Charlotte’s face and throat.
    “I think it’s charming,” said Will. “I’ve heard polka dots are the last word in fashion this season.”
    Henry patted Charlotte’s shoulder anxiously. “Would you like a cool cloth? What can I do to help?”
    “You could ride up to Yorkshire and chop that old goat’s head off.” Charlotte sounded mutinous.
    “Won’t that make things rather awkward with the Clave?” asked Henry. “They’re not generally very receptive about, you know, beheadings and things.”
    “Oh!” said Charlotte in despair. “It’s all my fault, isn’t it? I don’t know why I thought I could win him over. The man’s a nightmare.”
    “What did he say exactly ?” said Will. “In the letter, I mean.”
    “He refuses to see me, or Henry,” said Charlotte. “He says he’ll never forgive my family for what my father did. My father . . .” She sighed. “He was a difficult man. Absolutely faithful to the letter of the Law, and the Starkweathers have always interpreted the Law more loosely. My father thought they lived wild up there in the north, like savages, and he wasn’t shy about saying so. I don’t know what else he did, but old Aloysius seems personally insulted still. Not to mention that he also said if I really cared what he thought about anything, I would have invited him to the last Council meeting. As if I’m in charge of that sort of thing!”
    “Why wasn’t he invited?” inquired Jem.
    “He’s too old—not meant to be running an Institute at all. He just refuses to step down, and so far Consul Wayland hasn’t made him, but the Consul won’t invite him to Councils either. I think he hopes Aloysius will either take the hint or simply die of old age. But Aloysius’s father lived to be a hundred and four. We could be in for another fifteen years of him.” Charlotte shook her head in despair.
    “Well, if he won’t see you or Henry, can’t you send someone else?” asked