Chain of Thorns by Cassandra Clare EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author Name: Cassandra Clare
- Book Genre: Fantasy
- ISBN #
- Edition Language: English
- Date of Publication: January 31, 2023
- File Format: PDF / EPUB
- PDF / EPUB Size: 19 MB
- Status: Available for Download
- Price: Free
TWILIGHT DAYS
My Paris is a land wheretwilight days
Mergeinto violent nights of black and gold;
Where, it may be, theflower of dawn iscold:
Ah, but the gold nights, and thescented ways!
—Arthur Symons, “Paris”
The gold floor tiles gleamed under the lights of the magnificent
chandelier, which scattered droplets of light like snowflakes shaken from
a tree branch. The music was low and sweet, rising as James stepped out
from the crowd of dancers and held out his hand to Cordelia.
“Dance with me,” he said. He was beautiful in his black frock coat, the
darkness of the cloth accentuating the gold of his eyes, the sharpness of
his cheekbones. Black hair tumbled over his forehead. “You look
beautiful, Daisy.”
Cordelia took his hand. She turned her head as he drew her out onto
the floor, catching a glimpse of the two of them in the mirror at the far
end of the ballroom, James in black and she beside him, in a daring dress
of ruby-red velvet. James was looking down at her—no—he was gazing
across the room, where a pale girl in an ivory dress, her hair the color of
creamy-white rose petals, was looking back at him.
Grace.
“Cordelia!” Matthew’s voice made her eyes snap open. Cordelia,
feeling dizzy, put a hand against the wall of the changing room for a
moment to brace herself. The daydream—daymare? It hadn’t turned out
to be that pleasant—had been awfully vivid. “Madame Beausoleil wants
to know if you require any aid. Of course,” he added, his voice full of
mischief, “I would render the help myself, but that would be
scandalous.”
Cordelia smiled. Men did not usually accompany even wives or sisters
into a dressmaker’s shop. When they had arrived for their first visit, two
days ago, Matthew had deployed the Smile and charmed Madame
Beausoleil into allowing him to remain in the store with Cordelia. “She
does not speak French,” he had lied, “and will require my assistance.”
But letting him into the shop was one thing. Letting him into the
trying-on closet, where Cordelia had just finished donning an
intimidatingly stylish red velvet dress, would indeed be un af ront et un
scandale!—especially in an establishment as exclusive as Madame
Beausoleil’s.
Cordelia called back that she was all right, but a moment later there
was a knock on the door and one of the modistes appeared, wielding a
buttonhook. She attacked the closures at the back of Cordelia’s dress
without requiring any instruction—clearly she had done this before—
and pushed and pulled at Cordelia as if she was a stuffed mannequin. A
moment later—her dress fastened, her bust lifted, and her skirts
adjusted—Cordelia was decanted into the main room of the
dressmaker’s salon.
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