Cruel Mercy~ Matthew Fairchild {2}

Four

Amelia forgot how stupid the Wentworths' house looked. She laughed out loud when she saw it, earning a disapproving look from her mother.
It looked like a castle, if castles were decorated by five-year-olds. It hurt Amelia's eyes if she stared at it for too long.

But the inside was even worse. James had often called it a pastry. Amelia had always rejected the idea, but now she saw it.

There weren't very many people in the ballroom, but the party was in full swing. Normally, the entire London Enclave would jump at the chance to attend a function. Amelia had heard her parents talk about something that had happened a few days prior, but they refused to answer any of her questions.

Thomas had asked for the first dance. He'd looked unusually sheepish, as if he were about to ask her for something. He apologized profusely for the first half of the dance. "People keep talking about Amos Gladstone," he said. "Would you happen to know anything about that?"

She shook her head. She'd heard the whispers, but they'd ceased as soon as Amelia had made her presence known. "Not even Mother will tell me about it."

They parted ways after the dance, intent on finding information about Amos Gladstone. But before she could ask anyone anything, Matthew had found her.
"Would you like to dance?" he asked, his arm outstretched in invitation.

She took it, and the contact sent a shiver down her spine. "I thought you were too busy dancing with your parabatai's wife. I was worried you'd forgotten about me."

"I'm afraid Thomas got to you before I could."

"He wanted to apologize."

"Why would he need to do that? Matthew asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

"We had an argument last night."

"Are you alright? You two never fight."

"Don't you worry your pretty little head, Math," she said. "It was just a disagreement." She didn't miss the way his cheeks pinked at her words. It was satisfying, in a way, to know that she could make him blush.

Matthew cleared his throat. "Did you hear about Amos Gladstone?"

"People keep talking about him, but nobody will tell me anything. What happened?"

"I shouldn't have said anything. Forget—"

"Matthew."

His voice was uncharacteristically soft when he spoke. "He was killed on patrol."

The world stilled. "How long ago?"

"A couple days. He was found frozen in the alley, his throat slit. No sign of demons."

Amelia's breath got caught in her throat. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't speak. She couldn't reprimand Matthew for keeping this from her, though she wanted to.

Why was she reacting like this? She wasn't even close to Amos. She doubted that they'd even had a conversation.
Maybe Amelia was just reminded of her sister's untimely death. Maybe she was angry that everyone had kept this from her. She was but a month away from turning eighteen.

"Amelia," he said, "are you alright?"
The words got stuck in her throat. "I—"

They'd stopped dancing, and now he was leading her out to the balcony. "Let's get you some fresh air," he cooed as she caught her breath. "They thought you'd react poorly. They thought it would remind you of—"

Amelia didn't let him finish. "It's not that," she said harshly. She saw him wince at her tone. "Well, maybe a little. But mostly, it's the fact that nobody told me. They don't think I can handle it. They don't even see me as a Shadowhunter. God, it's so infuriating—"