He thinks he is alone when the final moments come.

As impeccable as his timing usually is, this moment takes the trophy. Instead of lying on the floor gasping for breath as he is doing right this very moment, James Carstairs should be standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for his lovely bride to make her way towards him. He never believed he would run out of time before he could marry Tessa.

The drug surrounds him – a fine silver powder, sprinkled around his twitching body like a ring of salt from the famous folktales. Jem doesn't know where it came from. He cannot even remember how he ended up in his room; all he is aware of is that he is dying, and he should be somewhere else.

"Tessa," he gasps, as another wave of agony overtakes him.

To his shock, another voice answers. "She is conveniently absent, my friend."

Cecily Herondale picked her way delicately over his jerking body. She was adorned with an extremely fancy dress, and smirked down at him with lips as red as the blood he had coughed up only moments before. Jem thought that he certainly must be dreaming. No.

"My apologies," she cooed, "for skipping out on your wedding. Luckily for me, you can say the same."

Perhaps it was the cold feet that killed him after all.

Tessa burned her wedding dress.