He began it,” Cecily said, jerking her chin at Will, though she knew it was pointless. Jem, Will’s parabatai, treated her with the distant sweet kindness reserved for the little sisters of one’s friends, but he would always side with Will. Kindly, but firmly, he put Will above everything else in the world. Well, nearly everything.

But God knows, I don't want anyone but you. I don't even want to want anyone but you.

Even more blood welled up and spilled down his arm, splattering onto the ground. “Camille’s carpet,” Magnus protested. “It’s blood,” said Will. “She ought to be thrilled.

Not your parabatai any longer.

Does anyone know why Will left?" Charlotte demanded, standing at the head of a long table around which the rest of them were seated. Cecily, her hands folded demurely before her, suddenly became very interested in the pattern of the carpet.

Mr. Branwell and Mr. Carstairs seem to have no problem cleaning their boots,” Sophie said, looking darkly from Will to Tessa. “Perhaps you could learn from their example.” “Perhaps,” said Will. “But I doubt it.” Sophie scowled, and started off along the corridor again, her shoulders tightly set with indignation. Tessa looked at Will in amazement. “What was that?” Will shrugged lazily. “Sophie enjoys pretending she doesn’t like me.” “Doesn’t like you? She hates you!

And he understands. He understands why people hold hands: he’d always thought it was about possessiveness, saying This is mine. But it’s about maintaining contact. It is about speaking without words. It is about I want you with me and don’t go.