"We have been getting more attacks in eastern London."

"We've just expanded. There ought to be more people outraged at us Aristocrats because they believe we are weakening their power. There will always be those who disagree with our actions. You must be courteous of this when you take over the estate and get your inheritance."

"The Commoners who rebel are just envious of our wealth. I try to think nothing of it."

"We are sending troops. You must be able to make the best decisions for your city when you own London."

"Best decisions?" William's voice comes more savagely this time, rising to a shout. "What do you know about decisions or protecting the city? You sent our armies out to our home country to trap a few escapees and, instead, you end up murdering the civilians of Wales who did nothing wrong. They were innocent, and you killed our people with one, thoughtless command!"

"Innocent," Mr. Herondale's voice was gruff and surly, cutting through the sickly muggy and dense atmosphere of the room, "is a sallow word to be throwing around in our time. The citizens of our home country allowed for this twisted rebellion to continue. Therefore, they are all at fault. You are being immature. It is a pity that the last of my legacy will be handed off to you. I thought you were a better son than that, but you are impetuous and at fault for many things."

"You have no idea who I am. You deserted the family because you were too concerned with setting fires of anger-"

"You too have that flame, William Herondale." Mr. Herondale says at last, silencing his son. "You too will want to burn our enemies. In time, you will learn to destroy and to create and to protect."

I lean against the door too heavily and it cracks open, revealing me as I tumble inside. Will's eyes grow furious again as his father stares at me in evaluation, tapping the table and moving to give Will a stern glare. Will stalks out of the room, catching my wrist and dragging me across the floor and out into the halls. Releasing my wrist, he narrows his eyes. "Why are you screwing around in the halls? God, I tell you one thing and you still don't listen."

Rubbing my wrist, I want to curl up into a tiny ball and disappear. "It's nearly afternoon. I'm sorry, I thought-"

"You thought? You thought you could come out? Look, I don't need you following me. I don't want you following me," he hisses menacingly, "Stay out of my way."

I straighten my back, meeting his gaze. I can tell he doesn't like it that I am but a few inches shorter than he is. He cannot look down at me like I am some child who has gotten into trouble. I feel angry and I know it is worth nothing to hide it. "Out of your way? Why an I even here, then? If you don't want me, then give me back. I don't want to be here either."

"You don't know my father." He says, rage lacing his voice." You don't know what the requirements are for me to be a worthy son. I'm eighteen and he wants me to have some sort of trophy that I can call my own because that is what defines the Aristocrat Class. We own things and thus, we are believed to be powerful. You are nothing more than an accessory. I decide your life now. I am the one you obey because you're an embarrassment when you act so foolishly. You are just a possession that I must care for and order around from here until death. You cannot escape the fact that you will be fully mine when we are married."

"Married?" My knees go weak and I can feel my hands get sweaty. Wiping them on my gown, I choke on my spit. "Married?"

"Of course." He gives me a loathing stare and makes me feel like a foolish child. "Why else do you think my father wants me to have you? Your brother has high social status and you are his sister. Who else could my father believe possibly suit me than the one and only Miss Tessa Gray?" He pulls me up straight with one hand. "Trust me, I don't want you either, but my image is more important than such petty dreams that I ever had. From now on, you will be my dog and I, your master. You will be my love and you will be the one thing that the public believes I cherish because it makes my family look better."

"I could never love you." I spit, my hands clawing over his but his grip is like iron.

"Funny. I could almost feel the same way." Letting go of the front of my gown, he brushes off the cuffs of his elegant suit. "Clean up, Tessa. We have plans."

~~ooo~~

The restaurant we go to is beautiful. It is enormous and lined in satin. The large windows that show the lit city are so clean that it almost seems as if they aren't there. I can see other Aristocrat families as well, sitting and conversing over the Ceremony and the attacks on London, though few seem to be genuinely worried. When I look to the left, I can see Cecily and Gabriel. She looks happy and her smile isn't forced like mine is. Will notices her but doesn't react.

"Sit." Will says, pulling out a chair at a small table. His father and mother settle themselves a few tables away, already ordering their meal and glancing at the restaurant inhabitants.

"Yes, Master Herondale." Giving a defeated nod, I slip into my chair, looking down at the table setting of silver utensils and crisp linen cloths. As clean as everything looks, it disgusts me. Everything about the Herondale family disgusts me. When our waitress finally arrives at our table, I realize that she is a Convicted. Then again, most of the servants I have seen so far are. Her mouth is bound by a blood red cloth and her hair is shorn close to her scalp. I try not to feel nauseous.

"The specialty wine for the both of us." Will orders, resting one arm over the back of his chair. "That'll be all for now." The waitress nods painfully, scars peeking out from the edges of the bindings, before scurrying off to the kitchen.

"Why are we here?" I ask hesitantly, smoothing my dress though there is not much to smooth.

"Because my father wanted to go here."

"Why did he want to go here?"

"So I could show you off to the other families." He frowns. "You ask too many questions. You talk too much."

"I am curious."

"It is harmful to discover." Will says softly, tilting his head slightly. He has mood swings, I assume. He is different from this morning, but still has that underlying hate as if he is a time bomb ready to explode. I just stay quiet. His eyes travel at the see through slits in the side of my dress."You look like a slut."

I ball my hands up into fists by my sides. "I didn't pick out my outfit."

"I wasn't accusing you. I'm simply stating what I believe."

"Ever heard about being quiet?"

He looks at me in displeasure, leaning forward slightly. "I am a Herondale. You are a woman who has so graciously been allowed into my home. I will not stand you talking down to me as if I am a Commoner such as yourself. Consider yourself lucky. Most would have you cast out and labeled you as a Disloyal by now."

"You mean your father would have?" I grimace. "Like screwed up father, like screwed up son."

For a moment, he looks genuinely hurt until a small smirk plays on his lips. He's vying for me to snap. "Feisty, aren't you, Miss Gray?" The waitress returns to our table and places the two glasses onto our table, leaving without acknowledgement. Picking up his glass, Will sips quietly, eyeing me as I don't let my gaze leave his. "Do have some of the wine. I would hate for you to waste it."

"I don't drink."

"Let me rephrase that sentence: Drink the wine I have so generously gotten you, Theresa."

I am tempted to take the drink and throw it at him, but I pick it up and I take a mouthful. It is bitter and dry, but it is my order. Swallowing, I set it down beside my water, watching as the little bubbles rose to the top, popping free from the liquid. "I don't want you."

"I think we have already agreed on that one." Will studies his reflection on the side of the steak knife, pushing a curl of hair from his eyes. "But my options have run out and you are the last one I can ever learn to love."

"Someone like you can never love."

"Actually, I love many things." Will drawled, leaning back into his chair. "Getting laid happens to be one of them. But also hitting things and throwing daggers in my free time."

I cringe and he notices, but he doesn't say anything. "I'm sure that is why every one of your whores killed themselves."

He laughs dryly. "You can think what you like, Tessa, but the reason for their death was very different." Giving his father a warning glance, he stood up, looking back at me and holding out one hand. "Say, how would you like to join me on the balcony?"

Author's Note: Hey guys! If you want to just go over terms that I mention in the story so far, I made a glossary defining each one.

Aristocrat/ic Class: People of high social status. This group mainly includes men and married women. (Will is part of this class).

Ceremony: The "auctioning" when the Owner selects the partnership pairings of unwed ladies and unwed gentlemen.

Commoner Class: People of low social status. This group mainly includes non-married women and sons of prostitutes. (Tessa is part of this class).

Convicted: People who have committed serious crimes such as murder or treason.

Disloyals: People who have committed a semi-serious crime such as stealing or smuggling. (Jem is part of this class).

One: The woman a man is assigned to. Vice versa.

Owner: AKA M. He is the one who prepares young women for the Ceremony. There are other Owners as well, but M is the one who owned Tessa.