Clary eyed herself critically in the mirror.
Her adoptive sister was grinning like the Cheshire Cat at her skeptical expression. Isabelle - thrilled that Clary had finally consented to be her "model", as she put it (the word Clary had used was victim) - had leaped at the chance to dress the shorter girl up in fancy clothes that had her scowling and writhing in discomfort.
"You love it." Isabelle insisted, her dark eyes shining. Isabelle was the kind of girl who looked perfect with no effort. Her black hair was always perfectly done, and she was tall, with a face that had men staring at her like she was a star that would burn out their eyes of they looked for too long, but the view was worth going blind for. Clary knew that Isabelle was jealous of her petite body and slender frame, but Isabelle had nothing to be jealous of in her eyes. She was perfect: bright, brilliant and beautiful.
Clary wasn't beautiful. She knew it, and had other talents to rely on.
But Isabelle was cutting it pretty fine. She had pulled Clary's scarlet hair into an elaborate hairdo, stuck through with seemingly thousands of glittery gold pins. She had done little to Clary's face, seeing as it would be covered by the pearl-studded gold mask shaped like two wings spreading over her eyes that had been chosen by her sister. The dress Isabelle had threatened, blackmailed and bribed Clary into had a tight corset - but not as tight as those of the other ladies; Isabelle knew enough not to go that far - that showed off her slim waist. The golden material widened slightly below the waist, but not so wide that it required a whalebone frame, like some extravagant dresses Clary had seen. Again, that would be impractical given Clary's position. Clary had flat out refused to don the slight heels Isabelle had given her, instead just wearing flats.
"I do not." Clary replied, though both girls knew she was lying. Clary had a strange fascination for beautiful things and this dress was no exception. But that didn't mean she was thrilled about having to wear it.
"Lying is a sin, dearest sister." Isabelle chastised, arranging a lock of Clary's hair so it hung over her shoulder. "And it won't kill you to admit what a genius I am. The gold compliments your blush perfectly."
Clary spun around to full on glare at Isabelle, who cried out as the hairstyle came tumbling down at the sudden movement. "Clary!"
Clary spoke through gritted teeth. "Let it go, Isabelle." She should have known her adoptive sister had ulterior motives when dressing her up in gold. It was too obvious.
"According to you, there's nothing to let go." She point out, smiling wickedly at she restarted on Clary's hair. Clary rolled her eyes, an unladylike habit she had no intention of breaking.
"That's because there is nothing!" She ground her teeth in frustration. This had to be the millionth time she had had this conversation in the past two years. And yet Isabelle still didn't get it.
"Izzy, stop tormenting poor Clary." Called an amused voice from the doorway. Clary twisted round, ignoring Isabelle's muttered protests, and gestured forcefully at her adoptive brother.
"Thank you, Alec!" Isabelle huffed.
"Fine." She said, before shooing Clary out of the seat so she could do herself.
Clary had been adopted by the Lightwoods at three years old, when she was found abandoned and freezing on the doorstep of their household. Robert, at his wife's insistence, had appealed to King Stephen to allow the Lightwoods to keep her and raise her like she was Isabelle and Alec's sister. The King had agreed on one condition: she had to earn her keep.
She gulped, swallowing the guilt, at the thought.
She walked over to stand next to Alec, who was clearly trying to contain his laughter at her disgruntled expression. "Our sister is mental." He murmured, so Isabelle didn't hear him and whack him.
Clary nodded violently. "Tell me about it." She turned to grin at Alec, not surprised to find him grinning back.
A small pang went through her when she realised they might not have moments like these anymore. Alec had been appointed by the King as an ambassador to visit and try to smooth relationships between the Herondale kingdom, and their neighbouring one, the Morgenstern kingdom. They had been fraught for as long as anybody could remember. There had once been a plan for Stephen's only son, Jonathan, to marry the Morgenstern's second child and only daughter, Clarissa, but she had disappeared a long while ago. Whilst the engagement still held, since Clarissa's family hadn't stopped searching for her and insisted she was still alive, the bond did nothing to help the unity between the kingdoms. The King feared that if the discord grew too great then the Morgensterns - who were superior to the Herondale's in weapons and might - could declare war, which wouldn't end well for his rule.
Clary reached over and laced her fingers with Alec's, a carelessly affectionate gesture. "We'll miss you whilst you're gone."
He smiled down at her, but there was something pained about it. "I'll miss you and Izzy too." They stood in silence for a moment.
"Done." Isabelle said, rising from the chair like Aphrodite out of the sea. "How do I look?"
That had to be a rhetorical question. Isabelle wore a long white dress lavishly festooned with creamy lace that seemed to put colour into her pale skin. Silver embroidery decorated her arms and ivory mask, and her hair was pulled up in an elegant knot with a few strands coming down to frame her face.
"Phenomenal, Izzy," Clary breathed.
Isabelle laughed and clapped her hands. "Let's go!" She swept out of the door to her and Clary's chambers without a backward glance to see if her siblings followed.
Alec turned to Clary and whispered hesitantly "At this ball... you don't have a job to do, do you?"
She frowned. "What makes you think that?"
"It's a masked ball."
Clary shook her head. "No, but the King ordered me to go anyway, considering it would look suspicious if I was only at the events where a murder occurred. If a person noticed and mentioned it to the King, he'd have to execute me and have me replaced. And we all know I'm the best at what I do."
Alec's crystal blue eyes were sombre. "Well, those who know what you do know that." She nodded, slowly, careful not to dislodge her hair. "Who are they again?"
She checked them off on her fingers. "King Stephen, Queen Celine, Robert, Maryse, you, and Izzy." She listed.
Alec raised an eyebrow. "Not the Prince?"
She raised her eyebrows in response, seeing as she couldn't raise one. "Why would he know?"
Alec smirked. "Well, you two seem particularly close-" He broke off with a laugh as Clary lightly smacked the back of his head, reaching up on her tiptoes to do it.
"Not you too!" She groaned. "I get enough of that from Isabelle."
Still chuckling, Alec raised his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine." He turned to the doorway where Isabelle reappeared, looking impatient. "But," he added as he reached his sister, "I think I speak for both of us when I say that if anything does happen... we had better be the first to know."
"He's engaged." She pointed out.
"Even so..."
She rolled her eyes again. "Very well."
They nodded to her and disappeared down the corridor. Clary moved to follow them.
But not before she picked up a small pocket knife and slipped it into her bodice.
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