Cruel Mercy~ Matthew Fairchild {2}

Two

A wedding was a joyous occasion, where the Enclave gathered together to celebrate the permanent bond of two people that generally loved each other. And, as far as everyone else knew, that was the case for James and Cordelia.

Amelia hadn't really attended any weddings, let alone a fake marriage arranged to save the reputation of one of her closest friends.

But Tessa—who didn't know about James and Cordelia's agreement—had gone all out for the wedding. The beams were festooned in garlands of chrysanthemums woven with winter wheat and tied with gold ribbons, the aisle strewn with golden petals. The ends of the pews were decorated with sprays of yellow-hearted lilies, Welsh daffodils, and marigolds, and gold velvet banners hung from the ceiling, stitched with designs of birds and castles—the symbols of the Herondale and Carstairs families, united. Candles glowed from every niche and surface.

It was quite a lot for Amelia to take in. She could only imagine how James and Cordelia must have felt.

She caught James' eye and dashed to his side. "Excited?" She asked him, a small grin on her face.

James scrunched his nose in fake disgust. "I've been greeting people for the past eternity. I think this will be my punishment in hell. Have you seen Matthew?"

"No, but he can't be too far behind."

They began to walk towards their friends, but were descended upon by a swarm of relatives wishing to congratulate James. Gideon clapped him on the back. "James!" He cried. "You're looking splendid!"

"Tone it down, papa," said Amelia with a wide grin on her face. "You'll scare him away. Poor boy's nervous."

Sophie beamed. "I was too, when I married. It will all work out, James."

James only nodded unconvincingly.

"What an excellent coat," Gabriel said. "Did my daughter help you find that?"

"Alas, this isn't Anna's work," said James, fiddling with his cuffs. "My father took me to his ancient tailor—who absolutely couldn't understand why I wanted a coat in gold and not a more gentlemanly color, like black or gray."

"Shadowhunters do not get married in gray," said Cecily, her eyes sparkling. "And Will has been using that tailor for so long I have begun to wonder if perhaps he lost a bet to him at cards. Have you met Filomena yet?"

Amelia and James both shook their heads before their eyes landed on a woman. She looked to be around Eugenia's age, with smooth dark hair caught up at the nape of her neck. Her lips were very red, her eyes dark and heavy-lidded. She smiled at the pair.

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure," said James.

"By the Angel, where are our manners?" Gabriel said, shaking his head. "James, Amelia, may I present Filomena di Angelo? She has just arrived from Rome, on her travel year."

Amelia grinned at her. "Amelia Lightwood, and this buffoon here—" she gestured to her cousin— "is James Herondale."

James gasped in mock offense, laying a hand over his heart. "I can't believe you would insult me like that."

Filomena raised an eyebrow at him. "The groom? It's a shame. You're very handsome."

"Well, you know what they say," said James. "All the best men are either married or Silent Brothers."

Before they had the opportunity to continue the conversation, Charles cut through the crowd and clapped James harshly on the back. "Congratulations!" He cried.

Amelia leaned over to Filomena. "I suggest you run while you can. Otherwise, you'll be here for hours."

Filomena's red lips turned up in amusement. "Thank you for the advice."