In this standalone sequel to Clockwork Angel, Tessa Gray finds that even the Shadowhunters cannot totally protect her from new dangers in the magical underworld of Victorian London. As the treachery of the mysterious Magister grows and becomes clearer, she worries about secrets from the past and relationships in the present. This Barnes & Noble Exclusive collector's edition includes a never-before-seen letter from Will to Tessa.
Clockwork Prince (Infernal Devices Series #2)by Cassandra Clare
The situation at the London Institute has never been more precarious. With Mortmain and his clockwork army still threatening, the Council wants to strip Charlotte of her power and hand the running of the Enclave over to the unscrupulous and power-hungry Benedict Lightwood.
In the hope of saving Charlotte and the Institute, Will, Jem, and Tessa set out to unravel… See more details below
The situation at the London Institute has never been more precarious. With Mortmain and his clockwork army still threatening, the Council wants to strip Charlotte of her power and hand the running of the Enclave over to the unscrupulous and power-hungry Benedict Lightwood.
In the hope of saving Charlotte and the Institute, Will, Jem, and Tessa set out to unravel the secrets of Mortmain’s past—and discover unsettling Shadowhunter connections that hold the key not only to the enemy’s motivations, but also to the secret of Tessa’s identity. Tessa, already caught between the affections of Will and Jem, finds herself with another choice to make when she learns how the Shadowhunters helped make her a “monster.” Will she turn from them to her brother, Nate, who has been begging her to join him at Mortmain’s side? Where will her loyalties—and love—lie? Tessa alone can choose to save the Shadowhunters of London…or end them forever.
Read an Excerpt
THE COUNCIL CHAMBER
Above, the fair hall-ceiling stately set
Many an arch high up did lift,
And angels rising and descending met
With interchange of gift.
—Alfred, Lord Tennyson, “The Palace of Art”
“Oh, yes. It really does look just as I imagined,” Tessa said, and turned to smile at the boy who stood beside her. He had just helped her over a puddle, and his hand still rested politely on her arm, just above the crook of her elbow.
James Carstairs smiled back at her, elegant in his dark suit, his silver-fair hair whipped by the wind. His other hand rested on a jade-topped cane, and if any of the great crowd of people milling around them thought that it was odd that someone so young should need a walking stick, or found anything unusual about his coloring or the cast of his features, they didn’t pause to stare.
“I shall count that as a blessing,” said Jem. “I was beginning to worry, you know, that everything you encountered in London was going to be a disappointment.”
A disappointment. Tessa’s brother, Nate, had once promised her everything in London—a new beginning, a wonderful place to live, a city of soaring buildings and gorgeous parks. What Tessa had found instead was horror and betrayal, and danger beyond anything she could have imagined. And yet . . .
“Not everything has been.” She smiled up at Jem.
“I am glad to hear it.” His tone was serious, not teasing. She looked away from him up at the grand edifice that rose before them. Westminster Abbey, with its great Gothic spires nearly touching the sky. The sun had done its best to struggle out from behind the haze-tipped clouds, and the abbey was bathed in weak sunlight.
“This is really where it is?” she asked as Jem drew her forward, toward the abbey entrance. “It seems so . . .”
“I had meant to say crowded.” The Abbey was open to tourists today, and groups of them swarmed busily in and out the enormous doors, most clutching Baedeker guidebooks in their hands. A group of American tourists—middle-aged women in unfashionable clothes, murmuring in accents that made Tessa briefly homesick—passed them as they went up the stairs, hurrying after a lecturer who was offering a guided tour of the Abbey. Jem and Tessa melted in effortlessly behind them.
The inside of the abbey smelled of cold stone and metal. Tessa looked up and around, marveling at the size of the place. It made the Institute look like a village church.
“Notice the triple division of the nave,” a guide droned, going on to explain that smaller chapels lined the eastern and western aisles of the Abbey. There was a hush over the place even though no services were going on. As Tessa let Jem lead her toward the eastern side of the church, she realized she was stepping over stones carved with dates and names. She had known that famous kings, queens, soldiers, and poets were buried in Westminster Abbey, but she hadn’t quite expected she’d be standing on top of them.
She and Jem slowed finally at the southeastern corner of the church. Watery daylight poured through the rose window overhead. “I know we are in a hurry to get to the Council meeting,” said Jem, “but I wanted you to see this.” He gestured around them. “Poets’ Corner.”
Tessa had read of the place, of course, where the great writers of England were buried. There was the gray stone tomb of Chaucer, with its canopy, and other familiar names: “Edmund Spenser, oh, and Samuel Johnson,” she gasped, “and Coleridge, and Robert Burns, and Shakespeare—”
“He isn’t really buried here,” said Jem quickly. “It’s just a monument. Like Milton’s.”
“Oh, I know, but—” She looked at him, and felt herself flush. “I can’t explain it. It’s like being among friends, being among these names. Silly, I know . . .”
“Not silly at all.”
She smiled at him. “How did you know just what I’d want to see?”
“How could I not?” he said. “When I think of you, and you are not there, I see you in my mind’s eye always with a book in your hand.” He looked away from her as he said it, but not before she caught the slight flush on his cheekbones. He was so pale, he could never hide even the least blush, she thought—and was surprised how affectionate the thought was.
She had become very fond of Jem over the past fortnight; Will had been studiously avoiding her, Charlotte and Henry were caught up in issues of Clave and Council and the running of the Institute—and even Jessamine seemed preoccupied. But Jem was always there. He seemed to take his role as her guide to London seriously. They had been to Hyde Park and Kew Gardens, the National Gallery and the British Museum, the Tower of London and Traitors’ Gate. They had gone to see the cows being milked in St. James’s Park, and the fruit and vegetable sellers hawking their wares in Covent Garden. They had watched the boats sailing on the sun-sparked Thames from the Embankment, and had eaten things called “doorstops,” which sounded horrible but turned out to be butter, sugar, and bread. And as the days went on, Tessa felt herself unfolding slowly out of her quiet, huddled unhappiness over Nate and Will and the loss of her old life, like a flower climbing out of frozen ground. She had even found herself laughing. And she had Jem to thank for it.
“You are a good friend,” she exclaimed. And when to her surprise he said nothing to that, she said, “At least, I hope we are good friends. You do think so too, don’t you, Jem?”
He turned to look at her, but before he could reply, a sepulchral voice spoke out of the shadows,
A dark shape stepped out from between two monuments. As Tessa blinked in surprise, Jem said, in a tone of resigned amusement, “Will. Decided to grace us with your presence after all?”
“I never said I wasn’t coming.” Will moved forward, and the light from the rose windows fell on him, illuminating his face. Even now, Tessa never could look at him without a tightening in her chest, a painful stutter of her heart. Black hair, blue eyes, graceful cheekbones, thick dark lashes, full mouth—he would have been pretty if he had not been so tall and so muscular. She had run her hands over those arms. She knew what they felt like—iron, corded with hard muscles; his hands, when they cupped the back of her head, slim and flexible but rough with calluses . . .
She tore her mind away from the memories. Memories did one no good, not when one knew the truth in the present. Will was beautiful, but he was not hers; he was not anybody’s. Something in him was broken, and through that break spilled a blind cruelty, a need to hurt and to push away.
“You’re late for the Council meeting,” said Jem good-naturedly. He was the only one Will’s puckish malice never seemed to touch.
“I had an errand,” said Will. Up close Tessa could see that he looked tired. His eyes were rimmed with red, the shadows beneath them nearly purple. His clothes looked crumpled, as if he had slept in them, and his hair wanted cutting. But that has nothing to do with you, she told herself sternly, looking away from the soft dark waves that curled around his ears, the back of his neck. It does not matter what you think of how he looks or how he chooses to spend his time. He has made that very clear. “And you are not exactly on the dot of the hour yourselves.”
“I wanted to show Tessa Poets’ Corner,” said Jem. “I thought she would like it.” He spoke so simply and plainly, no one could ever doubt him or imagine he said anything but the truth. In the face of his simple desire to please, even Will didn’t seem to be able to think of anything unpleasant to say; he merely shrugged, and moved on ahead of them at a rapid pace through the abbey and out into the East Cloister.
There was a square garden here surrounded by cloister walls, and people were walking around the edges of it, murmuring in low voices as if they were still in the church. None of them took notice of Tessa and her companions as they approached a set of double oak doors set into one of the walls. Will, after glancing around, took his stele from his pocket and drew the tip across the wood. The door sparked with a brief blue light and swung open. Will stepped inside, Jem and Tessa following just behind. The door was heavy, and closed with a resounding bang behind Tessa, nearly trapping her skirts; she pulled them away only just in time, and stepped backward quickly, turning around in what was a near pitch-darkness. “Jem?”
Light blazed up; it was Will, holding his witchlight stone. They were in a large stone-bound room with vaulted ceilings. The floor appeared to be brick, and there was an altar at one end of the room. “We’re in the Pyx Chamber,” he said. “Used to be a treasury. Boxes of gold and silver all along the walls.”
“A Shadowhunter treasury?” Tessa was thoroughly puzzled.
“No, the British royal treasury—thus the thick walls and doors,” said Jem. “But we Shadowhunters have always had access.” He smiled at her expression. “Monarchies down through the ages have tithed to the Nephilim, in secret, to keep their kingdoms safe from demons.”
“Not in America,” said Tessa with spirit. “We haven’t got a monarchy—”
“You’ve got a branch of government that deals with Nephilim, never fear,” said Will, crossing the floor to the altar. “It used to be the Department of War, but now there’s a branch of the Department of Justice—”
He was cut off as the altar moved sideways with a groan, revealing a dark, empty hole behind it. Tessa could see faint flickers of light in among the shadows. Will ducked into the hole, his witchlight illuminating the darkness.
When Tessa followed, she found herself in a long downward-sloping stone corridor. The stone of the walls, floors, and ceiling was all the same, giving the impression that the passage had been hewed directly through the rock, though it was smooth instead of rough. Every few feet witchlight burned in a sconce shaped like a human hand pushing through the wall, fingers gripping a torch.
The altar slid shut behind them, and they set off. As they went, the passage began to slope more steeply downward. The torches burned with a blue-green glow, illuminating carvings in the rock—the same motif, repeated over and over, of an angel rising in burning fire from a lake, carrying a sword in one hand and a cup in the other.
At last they found themselves standing before two great silver doors. Each door was carved with a design Tessa had seen before—four interlocking Cs. Jem pointed to them. “They stand for Clave and Council, Covenant and Consul,” he said, before she could ask.
“The Consul. He’s—the head of the Clave? Like a sort of king?”
“Not quite so inbred as your usual monarch,” said Will. “He’s elected, like the president or the prime minister.”
“And the Council?”
“You’ll see them soon enough.” Will pushed the doors open.
Tessa’s mouth fell open; she closed it quickly, but not before she caught an amused look from Jem, standing at her right side. The room beyond them was one of the biggest she had ever seen, a huge domed space, the ceiling of which was painted with a pattern of stars and constellations. A great chandelier in the shape of an angel holding blazing torches dangled from the highest point of the dome. The rest of the room was set up as an amphitheater, with long, curving benches. Will, Jem, and Tessa were standing at the top of a row of stairs that cut through the center of the seating area, which was three quarters full of people. Down at the bottom of the steps was a raised platform, and on that platform were several uncomfortable-looking high-backed wooden chairs.
In one of them sat Charlotte; beside her was Henry, looking wide-eyed and nervous. Charlotte sat calmly with her hands in her lap; only someone who knew her well would have seen the tension in her shoulders and the set of her mouth.
Before them, at a sort of speaker’s lectern—it was broader and longer than the usual lectern—stood a tall man with long, fair hair and a thick beard; his shoulders were broad, and he wore long black robes over his clothes like a judge, the sleeves glimmering with woven runes. Beside him, in a low chair, sat an older man, his brown hair streaked with gray, his face clean-shaven but sunk into stern lines. His robe was dark blue, and gems glittered on his fingers when he moved his hand. Tessa recognized him: the ice-voiced, ice-eyed Inquisitor Whitelaw who questioned witnesses on behalf of the Clave.
“Mr. Herondale,” said the blond man, looking up at Will, and his mouth quirked into a smile. “How kind of you to join us. And Mr. Carstairs as well. And your companion must be—”
“Miss Gray,” Tessa said before he could finish. “Miss Theresa Gray of New York.”
A little murmur ran around the room, like the sound of a wave receding. She felt Will, next to her, tense, and Jem draw a breath as if to speak. Interrupting the Consul, she thought she heard someone say. So this was Consul Wayland, the chief officer of the Clave. Glancing around the room, she saw a few familiar faces—Benedict Lightwood, with his sharp, beaky features and stiff carriage; and his son, tousle-haired Gabriel Lightwood, looking stonily straight ahead. Dark-eyed Lilian Highsmith. Friendly-looking George Penhallow; and even Charlotte’s formidable aunt Callida, her hair piled on her head in thick gray waves. There were many other faces as well, ones she didn’t know. It was like looking at a picture book meant to tell you about all the peoples of the world. There were blond Viking-looking Shadowhunters, and a darker-skinned man who looked like a caliph out of her illustrated The Thousand and One Nights, and an Indian woman in a beautiful sari trimmed with silver runes. She sat beside another woman, who had turned her head and was looking at them. She wore an elegant silk dress, and her face was like Jem’s—the same delicately beautiful features, the same curves to her eyes and cheekbones, though where his hair and eyes were silver, hers were dark.
“Welcome, then, Miss Tessa Gray of New York,” said the Consul, sounding amused. “We appreciate your joining us here today. I understand you have already answered quite a few questions for the London Enclave. I had hoped you would be willing to answer a few more.”
Across the distance that separated them, Tessa’s eyes met Charlotte’s. Should I?
Charlotte dropped her a nearly imperceptible nod. Please.
Tessa squared her shoulders. “If that is your request, certainly.”
“Approach the Council bench, then,” said the Consul, and Tessa realized he must mean the long, narrow wooden bench that stood before the lectern. “And your gentleman friends may escort you,” he added.
Will muttered something under his breath, but so quietly even Tessa couldn’t hear it; flanked by Will on her left and Jem on her right, Tessa made her way down the steps and to the bench before the lectern. She stood behind it uncertainly. This close up, she could see that the Consul had friendly blue eyes, unlike the Inquisitor’s, which were a bleak and stormy gray, like a rainy sea.
“Inquisitor Whitelaw,” said the Consul to the gray-eyed man, “the Mortal Sword, if you please.”
The Inquisitor stood, and from his robes drew a massive blade. Tessa recognized it instantly. It was long and dull silver, its hilt carved in the shape of outspread wings. It was the sword from the Codex, the one that the Angel Raziel had risen from the lake carrying, and had given to Jonathan Shadowhunter, the first of them all.
“Maellartach,” she said, giving the Sword its name.
The Consul, taking the Sword, looked amused again. “You have been studying up,” he said. “Which of you has been teaching her? William? James?”
“Tessa picks things up on her own, sir,” Will’s drawl was bland and cheerful, at odds with the grim feeling in the room. “She’s very inquisitive.”
“All the more reason she shouldn’t be here.” Tessa didn’t have to turn; she knew the voice. Benedict Lightwood. “This is the Gard Council. We don’t bring Downworlders to this place.” His voice was tight. “The Mortal Sword cannot be used to make her tell the truth; she’s not a Shadowhunter. What use is it, or her, here?”
“Patience, Benedict.” Consul Wayland held the Sword lightly, as if it weighed nothing. His gaze on Tessa was heavier. She felt as if he were searching her face, reading the fear in her eyes. “We are not going to hurt you, little warlock,” he said. “The Accords would forbid it.”
“You should not call me warlock,” Tessa said. “I bear no warlock’s mark.” It was strange, having to say this again, but when she had been questioned before, it had always been by members of the Clave, not the Consul himself. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man, exuding a sense of power and authority. Just that sort of power and authority that Benedict Lightwood so resented Charlotte laying claim to.
“Then, what are you?” he asked.
“She doesn’t know.” The Inquisitor’s tone was dry. “Neither do the Silent Brothers.”
“She may be allowed to sit,” said the Consul. “And to give evidence, but her testimony will be counted only as half a Shadowhunter’s.” He turned to the Branwells. “In the meantime, Henry, you are dismissed from questioning for the moment. Charlotte, please remain.”
Tessa swallowed back her resentment and went to sit in the front row of seats, where she was joined by a drawn-looking Henry, whose gingery hair was sticking up wildly. Jessamine was there, in a dress of pale brown alpaca, looking bored and annoyed. Tessa sat down next to her, with Will and Jem on her other side. Jem was directly beside her, and as the seats were narrow, she could feel the warmth of his shoulder against hers.
At first the Council proceeded much as had other meetings of the Enclave. Charlotte was called upon to give her recollections of the night when the Enclave attacked the stronghold of the vampire de Quincey, killing him and those of his followers who’d been present, while Tessa’s brother, Nate, had betrayed their trust in him and allowed the Magister, Axel Mortmain, entry into the Institute, where he had murdered two of the servants and nearly kidnapped Tessa. When Tessa was called up, she said the same things she had said before, that she did not know where Nate was, that she had not suspected him, that she had known nothing of her powers until the Dark Sisters had shown them to her, and that she had always thought her parents were human.
“Richard and Elizabeth Gray have been thoroughly investigated,” said the Inquisitor. “There is no evidence to suggest either was anything but human. The boy, the brother—human as well. It could well be that, as Mortmain hinted, the girl’s father is a demon, but if so, there is the question of the missing warlock mark.”
“Most curious, everything about you, including this power of yours,” said the Consul, looking at Tessa with eyes that were steady and pale blue. “You have no idea what its limits, its constructs are? Have you been tested with an item of Mortmain’s? To see if you can access his memories or thoughts?”
“Yes, I—tried. With a button he had left behind him. It should have worked.”
She shook her head. “I could not do it. There was no spark to it, no—no life. Nothing for me to connect with.”
“Convenient,” muttered Benedict, almost too low to be heard, but Tessa heard it, and flushed.
The Consul indicated that she might take her seat again. She caught sight of Benedict Lightwood’s face as she did so; his lips were compressed into a thin, furious line. She wondered what she could possibly have said to anger him.
“And no one has seen hide nor hair of this Mortmain since Miss Gray’s . . . altercation with him in the Sanctuary,” the Consul went on as Tessa took her seat.
The Inquisitor flipped some of the papers that were stacked on the lectern. “His houses have been searched and found to be completely emptied of all his belongings. His warehouses were searched with the same result. Even our friends at Scotland Yard have investigated. The man has vanished. Quite literally, as our young friend William Herondale tells us.”
Will smiled brilliantly as if complimented, though Tessa, seeing the malice under the smile, thought of light sparking off the cutting edge of a razor.
“My suggestion,” said the Consul, “is that Charlotte and Henry Branwell be censured, and that for the next three months their official actions, undertaken on behalf of the Clave, be required to pass through me for approval before—”
“My lord Consul.” A firm, clear voice spoke out from the crowd. Heads swiveled, staring; Tessa got the feeling that this—someone interrupting the Consul midspeech—didn’t happen very often. “If I might speak.”
The Consul’s eyebrows went up. “Benedict Lightwood,” he said. “You had your chance to speak earlier, during the testimonials.”
“I hold no arguments with the testimonials given,” said Benedict Lightwood. His beaky, sharp profile looked even sharper in the witchlight. “It is your sentence I take issue with.”
The Consul leaned forward on the lectern. He was a big man, thick-necked and deep-chested, and his large hands looked as if he could span Benedict’s throat easily with a single one. Tessa rather wished he would. From what she had seen of Benedict Lightwood, she did not like him. “And why is that?”
“I think you have let your long friendship with the Fairchild family blind you to Charlotte’s shortcomings as head of the Institute,” said Benedict, and there was an audible intake of breath in the room. “The blunders committed on the night of July the fifth did more than embarrass the Clave and lose us the Pyxis. We have damaged our relationship with London’s Downworlders by futilely attacking de Quincy.”
“There have already been a number of complaints lodged through Reparations,” rumbled the Consul. “But those will be dealt with as the Law sees fit. Reparations isn’t really your concern, Benedict—”
“And,” Benedict went on, his voice rising, “worst of all, she has let a dangerous criminal with plans to harm and destroy Shadowhunters escape, and we have no idea where he might be. Nor is the responsibility for finding him being laid where it should be, on the shoulders of those who lost him!”
His voice rose. In fact, the whole room was in an uproar; Charlotte looked dismayed, Henry confused, and Will furious. The Consul, whose eyes had darkened alarmingly when Benedict had mentioned the Fairchilds—they must have been Charlotte’s family, Tessa realized—remained silent as the noise died down. Then he said, “Your hostility toward the leader of your Enclave does not do you credit, Benedict.”
“My apologies, Consul. I do not believe that keeping Charlotte Branwell as the head of the Institute—for we all know that Henry Branwell’s involvement is nominal at most—is in the best interests of the Clave. I believe a woman cannot run an Institute; women do not think with logic and discretion but with the emotions of the heart. I have no doubt that Charlotte is a good and decent woman, but a man would not have been fooled by a flimsy spy like Nathaniel Gray—”
“I was fooled.” Will had leaped to his feet and swung around, eyes blazing. “We all were. What insinuations are you making about myself and Jem and Henry, Mr. Lightwood?”
“You and Jem are children,” said Benedict cuttingly. “And Henry never looks up from his worktable.”
Will started to climb over the back of his chair; Jem tugged him back into his seat with main force, hissing under his breath. Jessamine clapped her hands together, her brown eyes bright.
“This is finally exciting,” she exclaimed.
Tessa looked at her in disgust. “Are you hearing any of this? He’s insulting Charlotte!” she whispered, but Jessamine brushed her off with a gesture.
“And who would you suggest run the Institute instead?” the Consul demanded of Benedict, his voice dripping sarcasm. “Yourself, perhaps?”
Benedict spread his hands wide self-deprecatingly. “If you say so, Consul . . .”
Before he could finish speaking, three other figures had risen of their own accord; two Tessa recognized as members of the London Enclave, though she did not know their names; the third was Lilian Highsmith.
Benedict smiled. Everyone was staring at him now; beside him sat his youngest son Gabriel, who was looking up at his father with unreadable green eyes. His slim fingers gripped the back of the chair in front of him.
“Three to support my claim,” Benedict said. “That’s what the Law requires for me to formally challenge Charlotte Branwell for the position of head of the London Enclave.”
Charlotte gave a little gasp but sat motionless in her seat, refusing to turn around. Jem still had Will by the wrist. And Jessamine continued to look as if she were watching an exciting play.
“No,” said the Consul.
“You cannot prevent me from challenging—”
“Benedict, you challenged my appointment of Charlotte the moment I made it. You’ve always wanted the Institute. Now, when the Enclave needs to work together more than ever, you bring division and contention to the proceedings of the Council.”
“Change is not always accomplished peacefully, but that does not make it disadvantageous. My challenge stands.” Benedict’s hands gripped each other.
The Consul drummed his fingers on the lectern. Beside him the Inquisitor stood, cold-eyed. Finally the Consul said, “You suggest, Benedict, that the responsibility of finding Mortmain should be laid upon the shoulders of those who you claim ‘lost him.’ You would agree, I believe, that finding Mortmain is our first priority?”
Benedict nodded curtly.
“Then, my proposal is this: Let Charlotte and Henry Branwell have charge of the investigation into Mortmain’s whereabouts. If by the end of two weeks they have not located him, or at least some strong evidence pointing to his location, then the challenge may go forward.”
Charlotte shot forward in her seat. “Find Mortmain?” she said. “Alone, just Henry and I—with no help from the rest of the Enclave?”
The Consul’s eyes when they rested on her were not unfriendly, but neither were they entirely forgiving. “You may call upon other members of the Clave if you have some specific need, and of course the Silent Brothers and Iron Sisters are at your disposal,” he said. “But as for the investigation, yes, that is for you to accomplish on your own.”
“I don’t like this,” complained Lilian Highsmith. “You’re turning the search for a madman into a game of power—”
“Do you wish to withdraw your support for Benedict, then?” asked the Consul. “His challenge would be ended and there would be no need for the Branwells to prove themselves.”
Lilian opened her mouth—and then, at a look from Benedict, closed it. She shook her head.
“We have just lost our servants,” said Charlotte in a strained voice. “Without them—”
“New servants will be provided to you, as is standard,” said the Consul. “Your late servant Thomas’s brother, Cyril, is traveling here from Brighton to join your household, and the Dublin Institute has given up its second cook for you. Both are well-trained fighters—which, I must say, Charlotte, yours should have been as well.”
“Both Thomas and Agatha were trained,” Henry protested.
“But you have several in your house who are not,” said Benedict. “Not only is Miss Lovelace woefully behind in her training, but your parlor girl, Sophie, and that Downworlder there—” He pointed at Tessa. “Well, since you seem bent on making her a permanent addition to your household, it would hardly hurt if she—and the maid—were trained in the basics of defense.”
Tessa looked sideways at Jem in astonishment. “He means me?”
Jem nodded. His expression was somber.
“I can’t—I’ll chop off my own foot!”
“If you’re going to chop off anyone’s foot, chop off Benedict’s,” Will muttered.
“You’ll be fine, Tessa. It’s nothing you can’t do,” Jem began, but the rest of his words were drowned out by Benedict.
“In fact,” Benedict said, “since the two of you will be so busy investigating Mortmain’s whereabouts, I suggest I lend you my sons—Gabriel, and Gideon, who returns from Spain tonight—as trainers. Both are excellent fighters and could use the teaching experience.”
“Father!” Gabriel protested. He looked horrified; clearly this was not something Benedict had discussed with him in advance.
“We can train our own servants,” Charlotte snapped, but the Consul shook his head at her.
“Benedict Lightwood is offering you a generous gift. Accept it.”
Charlotte was crimson in the face. After a long moment she bent her head, acknowledging the Consul’s words. Tessa felt dizzy. She was going to be trained? Trained to fight, to throw knives and swing a sword? Of course, one of her favorite heroines had always been Capitola in The Hidden Hand, who could fight as well as a man—and dressed like one. But that didn’t mean she wanted to be her.
“Very well,” said the Consul. “This session of the Council is ended, to be reconvened here, in the same location, in a fortnight. You are all dismissed.”
Of course, everyone did not depart immediately. There was a sudden clamor of voices as people began to rise from their seats and chatter eagerly with their neighbors. Charlotte sat still; Henry beside her, looked as if he wanted desperately to say something comforting but could think of nothing. His hand hovered uncertainly over his wife’s shoulder. Will was glaring across the room at Gabriel Lightwood, who looked coldly in their direction.
Slowly Charlotte rose to her feet. Henry had his hand on her back now, murmuring. Jessamine was already standing, twirling her new white lace parasol. Henry had replaced the old one that had been destroyed in battle with Mortmain’s automatons. Her hair was done up in tight bunches over her ears like grapes. Tessa got quickly to her feet, and the group of them headed up the center aisle of the Council room. Tessa caught whispers on each side of her, bits of the same words, over and over: “Charlotte,” “Benedict,” “never find the Magister,” “two weeks,”
“challenge,” “Consul,” “Mortmain,” “Enclave,” “humiliating.”
Charlotte walked with her back straight, her cheeks red, and her eyes gazing straight ahead as if she couldn’t hear the gossip. Will seemed about to lunge off toward the whisperers to administer rough justice, but Jem had a firm grip on the back of his parabatai’s coat. Being Jem, Tessa reflected, must be a great deal like being the owner of a thoroughbred dog that liked to bite your guests. You had to have a hand on his collar constantly. Jessamine merely looked bored again. She wasn’t terribly interested in what the Enclave thought of her, or any of them.
By the time they had reached the doors of the Council chamber, they were nearly running. Charlotte paused a moment to let the rest of their group catch up. Most of the crowd was streaming off to the left, where Tessa, Jem, and Will had come from, but Charlotte turned right, marched several paces down the hall, spun around a corner, and abruptly stopped.
“Charlotte?” Henry, catching up to her, sounded worried. “Darling—”
Without warning Charlotte drew her foot back and kicked the wall, as hard as she could. As the wall was stone, this did little damage, though Charlotte let out a low shriek.
“Oh, my,” said Jessamine, twirling her parasol.
“If I might make a suggestion,” said Will. “About twenty paces behind us, in the Council room, is Benedict. If you’d like to go back in there and try kicking him, I recommend aiming upward and a bit to the left—”
“Charlotte.” The deep, gravelly voice was instantly recognizable. Charlotte spun around, her brown eyes widening.
It was the Consul. The runes picked out in silver thread on the hem and sleeves of his cloak glittered as he moved toward the little group from the Institute, his gaze on Charlotte. One hand against the wall, she didn’t move.
“Charlotte,” Consul Wayland said again, “you know what your father always said about losing your temper.”
“He did say that. He also said that he should have had a son,” Charlotte replied bitterly. “If he had—if I were a man—would you have treated me as you just did?”
Henry put his hand on his wife’s shoulder, murmuring something, but she shook it off. Her large, hurt brown eyes were on the Consul.
“And how did I just treat you?” he asked.
“As if I were a child, a little girl who needed scolding.”
“Charlotte, I am the one who named you as head of the Institute and the Enclave.” The Consul sounded exasperated. “I did it not just because I was fond of Granville Fairchild and knew he wanted his daughter to succeed him, but because I thought you would accomplish the job well.”
“You named Henry, too,” she said. “And you even told us when you did it that it was because the Enclave would accept a married couple as their leader, but not a woman alone.”
“Well, congratulations, Charlotte. I do not think any members of the London Enclave are under the impression that they are in any way being led by Henry.”
“It’s true,” Henry said, looking at his shoes. “They all know I’m rather useless. It’s my fault all this happened, Consul—”
“It isn’t,” said Consul Wayland. “It is a combination of a generalized complacency on the part of the Clave, bad luck and bad timing, and some poor decisions on your part, Charlotte. Yes, I am holding you accountable for them—”
“So you agree with Benedict!” Charlotte cried.
“Benedict Lightwood is a blackguard and a hypocrite,” said the Consul wearily. “Everyone knows that. But he is politically powerful, and it is better to placate him with this show than it would be to antagonize him further by ignoring him.”
“A show? Is that what you call this?” Charlotte demanded bitterly. “You have set me an impossible task.”
“I have set you the task of locating the Magister,” said Consul Wayland. “The man who broke into the Institute, killed your servants, took your Pyxis, and plans to build an army of clockwork monsters to destroy us all—in short, a man who must be stopped. As head of the Enclave, Charlotte, stopping him is your task. If you consider it impossible, then perhaps you should ask yourself why you want the job so badly in the first place.”
© 2011 Cassandra Claire LLC
What People are saying about this
Kirkus Reviews, November 2011
“Clare delivers in this trilogy second. . . . Really very well done. Be sure to start with the first in the Infernal Devices trilogy, Clockwork Angel, to best enjoy this tale.”
Romantic Times Book Review, December 2011
"Whether it's the overly tight corsets or the smell of dark magic that hangs in the air "like sulfur mixed with the Thames on a hot day," there's something about Victorian England that heightens tensions, both romantic and paranormal. In "Clockwork Prince," the second installment in a prequel trilogy to the bestselling "The Mortal Instruments" series, Cassandra Clare demonstrates her relentless authorial alchemy, blending societal restraint and an otherworldly battle into a steamy steampunk drama."
Los Angeles Times, December 2011
"This novel offers mystery, adventure, and, most importantly, a delicious love triangle. . . . It will not disappoint fans and it will definitely leave them eager for the conclusion of the trilogy."
SLJ, January 2012
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
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You know that feeling of finally returning home after you have been on a trip for several days? The type of trip that ends with a long drive, and those last few hours of highway seem to keep multiplying. From the moment I cracked open this book, that was the feeling I was overwhelmed with. I felt like I had come home again after a long journey. Most people that know me, know that I love Cassandra Clare (and Jace), and love might be too weak of a word! Something about her writing calls to me, and just clicks with my personality. She has gone far beyond my expectations with Clockwork Prince. As I say above, it is stunningly perfect!!! At the end of Clockwork Angel, we were left with many questions. My main question was, what the heck is going on with Will? I wanted to love him him in CA, then he would do something that made me question whether I had judged him correctly! I like my boys broken, and they don't come anymore broken than Mr. Herondale. To my abiding joy, Cassie answers those questions in CP, and not on the last page of the novel! It was wonderful to have those answers almost immediately. It seems to be a mighty feat to be able to produce a successful 2nd novel in a series. Many times we don't find out enough information, and its basically just a huge setup for the finale. Clockwork Prince is not that way in the least. I was overjoyed by how many questions we actually got answered. Another unique quality of Cassie's writing is her ability to build a character. Her novels are all in 3rd person and are deeply character driven. Every character is distinctly different, and they seem to come to life right before your eyes. After reading this, I feel like I genuinely know and have a substantial insight into what makes each character tick. (ha!) We find out more about every single character, and even get to see a different side of Magnus that makes me only love him more. The insights don't stop with the characters either. So much more of the Shadowhunter world is revealed especially what all encompasses a parabatai relationship. I can't wait to go back and read all the other novels in light of this new knowledge! I know that Cassie promised a Dirty Sexy Balcony Scene, but just let me say there is so much more where that came from! If you like the kissing (from both boys), you will be bursting with giddiness through this book!!! I will also say, hands down, that this is the best love triangle that exists in written words to date! I am so utterly torn. One moment I want her to be with Will because of his emotional brokenness, and the next moment I'm routing for Jem because of his physical brokenness. All three of them deserve to be happy, but I'm worried our hearts and theirs will be broken either way! Its ripping my heart out! Through the pages, I experienced the entire gamut of emotions. I laughed, cried, loved and was terrified at moments. I love novels that make me feel and boy did I get exactly what I wanted! After it was all over, I couldn't stop crying! Ms. Clare gives us exactly what we all want in the novel, but just puts her classic spin on it! I am simultaneously overjoyed and aggrieved at the same time! Its a beautiful book, full of everything that encompasses wonderful in a novel. It is honestly one of the best books I have ever read!!!
Clockwork Angel was Great=) By the end you are going crazy trying not to think about the possible outcomes=) All of the characters are riveting and all of the twists leave you begging for the answers=P I cannot wait !
I am so excited. Hope to read it soon.
Once again, Cassandra Clare hasn't failed to produce a book that falls in my top 10 list. This book was so incredible!!! It was terrible and depressing and shocking and tear-jerking and completely UNFAIR!!! MAJOR CLIFFHANGER AND CLOCKWORK PRINCESS DOESN'T COME OUT TIL SEPT 2013!!!!! This book kept me up allll night for 2 days until I finished it. I cried sooooo much. I absolutely loved it (as masochistic as that is since the outcome DESTROYED ME!!)!! I swear Cassandra Clare feeds on the souls of her readers because that ending was cruel. I was so depressed when it was over because I NEEDED MORE!!!! I absolutely reccomend it. It was amaazing!!!!!!!!
Starting the book I was torn between Jem & Will for Tessa. I knew that Will had to have a reason for pushing her away but I am a hopeless romantic and felt he could've tried harder to atleast be pleasant towards her. Just as I had decided that Jem was the one Cassie Clare throws in her famous surprises and has made me change my mind completely. I found myself heart broken with how much Will is hurting and I am now 100% Team Will. I still love Jem but Will is her soulmate with no doubt. MUST READ!! Can't wait for Clockwork Princess.
Cassandra Clare definitely has best sellers here. She does a great job writing both the Mortal Instruments and Infernal Devices series (so far). I have not been able to put any of the books down. I absolutely love the mix of fantasy and historical fiction. The characters in both series are compelling and very real. The plots and subplots are brilliantly played out for a true page turner. For those of you who have not read the Mortal Instruments series(City of Ashes, City of Bones, City of Glass and City of Fallen Angels), I would recommend reading those first before you start the infernal devices series. Even though the plots are indendent of one another, there will be some elements of the infernal devices series that would be unexplained otherwise. If you love Stephenie Meyers', Sally Gardner's and/or Maggie Stiefvator's writing you will absolutely adore Cassandra Clare's. I cannot wait for the release date.
An amazing book as is expected to the Infernal Devices trilogy. I recommend it to anyone looking for an exciting read!
I'm not sure if it is the time setting, location, characters or simply all these aspects that make me love the Infernal Devices so much. All the questions from the last book are answered and the ultimate question left hanging is "what is going to happen between Jem, Will and Tessa?" Unlike most novels by Cassandra Clare the book doesn't end in one huge annoying cliff hanger where terrible things occur and all questions are answered at the last minute. The story and complexity is unraveled piece by piece throughout the whole course of the book and excitement occurs from the first to last page, especially in terms of the love triangle. What I find so sad, yet at the same time interesting to read about the love triangle is that all three people have some type of relationship and no matter what happens the ending is still sad. The ending of this book is bitter sweet and I was absolutely torn between Jem and Will, as is Tessa. I knew all along that Will would never intentionally be as cruel as he made himself to be and I love his wittiness and the true, kind side to him. Jem is so interesting and the perfect, ideal guy for any girl, he is so sweet and affectionate :(. I'm just praying that he survives his disease that makes him so fragile. I loved how the story went more in depth with the Lightwoods and Sophie. Lets just say Sophie meets a significant other. Not to mention more of Henry and Charlottes relationship being shown. It's all very cute. Anyway, this book went above my expectations and lives up to the first, unlike City of Ashes which I disliked and feared this would be the same which it was not. It was a great read and I will most likely be reading it again in anticipation for Clockwork Princesss.
Cassandra Clare sure knows how to write a love scene. Her hot and steamy writing, while appropriate for a young adult audience, will have women regardless of age tearing through the pages of her Infernal Devices sequel, Clockwork Prince in eager anticipation of the passionate make-out sessions and heated embraces. And, of course, the addition of a heartbreaking love triangle never fails to heighten the emotion of an already charged atmosphere. This paranormal romance is set in late 19th century London at the Institute, a center of learning and seat of wisdom for a supernatural clave called the Shadowhunters. These ninja-like warriors are referred to as Nephilim, a race of humans whose lineage descends from angels. Their sole purpose is to protect humanity from the demons that crossover into the earthly realm. They also keep Downworlders in line such as warlocks, fairies, vampires and werewolves. However as the action begins, they are on the watch for Mortmain, their sworn enemy who seeks their destruction with his army of mechanized automatons. Not to mention, he wants to kidnap and marry our heroine, Tessa, who he believes is an instrumental component to his takeover strategy. Being the object of Mortmain's obsession confuses Tessa because she herself is unsure of her exact genetic makeup. She exhibits the ability to take on the physical form of another person, yet she does not bear the mark of a warlock. Rescued by the Shadowhunters, she is offered protection at the Institute where she just happens to come between two best friends, Will and Jem. The boys share a special mystical bond whereby they pledged an oath to stand by each other for the rest of their lives. Tragically, although just a teenager, Jem is slowly succumbing to an untimely death. The opium he takes to stay alive has preternaturally aged him turning his hair and eyes silver. Yet he seemingly starts to regain his strength when he believes Tessa might actually care for him. And that's where the drama begins. After being cruelly rebuffed by the painstakingly handsome, Will, Tessa is left in a state of confusion and dismay. Will is a self-proclaimed playboy who has no intentions of pursuing any kind of lasting romantic relationship with Tessa. He pushes her away for reasons unknown to her but are gradually revealed over the course of the novel. His advances toward her run hot and cold. Undeniably physically attracted to him, she is unable to reconcile his changeable behavior into something she would want to endure on a regular basis. Little does Will know that Jem is harboring a flame of his own for Tessa. While always appreciative of Jem's kindness and friendship, Tessa is surprised that she also experiences a strong feeling of desire for him. The dynamics shift when Jem boldly makes his move during an unexpected nighttime visit by Tessa. Jem caresses Tessa's body like his delicate hands painstakingly tune his violin. She intuitively knows that what they have is something special and she eagerly responds to his gentle touch. Tessa can't stand Will's arrogance and aloofness, yet she can't take her eyes off him or remove him from her fantasies. However with Jem she feels a deeper, more intimate, connection that she can't deny makes her feel complete like she has finally come home. After a violent showdown with Nate, both Jem and Will plead their case to win her heart. In the end, she makes the decision to choose one over the other.
I was really excited to get my "invitation" for the masquerade, letting me know that I would be getting an ARC of CP, and it showed up the very next day, with another surprise--a t-shirt. They are both awesome, but didn't hold a light to how it was actually reading the book. Clockwork Prince starts where CA left off, and I was not at all disappointed. The plot was awesome-it always had me guessing what would happen next and kept me on the edge of my seat. The way that some things turned out were not at all what I expected-could never have imagined is more like it-I was shocked and pleasantly surprised by some of the developments. Jem really gets his chance to shine in this novel, and I'm really happy for him, even though everything is still overshadowed by his illness. Jem is my favorite for me, but for now, I still have to with-hold judgement on who I think is best for Tessa. Will is really complicated, and we find out some of the reasons for his defenses and it breaks my heart. It feels like one thing gets figured out for him, and then something else stands in his way. But I love getting the glimpses into his heart when we see him interact with Jem--and we get a few of those in CP, and I love every moment of it. There is some steamy in this book never fear, but that's all I'll say to avoid spoilers. I SO can't wait until the next book!
I loved Clockwork Angel, I can't wait until Clockwork Prince comes out, I'm loving all the CA references so far in City of Fallen Angels, it just makes me want CP more!
I have recently finished this book and it was, in the least of words, amazing! The love triangle between Tessa, Will, and Jem is so mysterious and thrilling that it keeps you begging for more. The betrayed relationship between Tessa and Nate is heart-wrenching and always leaves you wondering, why? Anybody who is looking for an action packed love story would find this book to their liking. Books always move me in passionate ways;however, this one started to get me to thinking about other things, not just love and compassion, but how people absorb the world. Some may see it only as a cruel place with unforgivable people. Others may look at it as a place with benevolence and concern. I have never given much thought to why those people you hear on television are able to kill and do harm to others without thought. But then I start wondering: Maybe something happened in their past that scarred them, or maybe they have nobody left to care for in the world. And then there are those who do it simply because they have no compassion, nor a kind heart. This magnificent book has taught and shown me many things, and all I have to say is this: Thank you to a superior level of gratitude, Mrs. Cassandra Clare.
I'm going to fangirl vent about this book, so sorry to anyone who reads this. I..ugh! I love you, Cassandra Clare, but no, just no. Sure mmphmm may be nicer and sweeter, and better for Tessa's emotional state, but hmphmh is better, so much better. I've honestly never cried so much over a book, ever. When Tessa broke hmphmh heart like that, I threw my nook across the room. I just.........ugh.........just ugh.... I can't stop tearing up. Hopefully Clockwork Princess will have a better ending. Sorry for the names, but trying to keep this review as spoiler free as possible while still venting. Anyway, buy this freaking book! Seriously, if you read Clockwork Angel, you have to read this. Clare did a fan-freaking-tastic job (even if it made my tear out my hair). Stop reading reviews and buy the book!
Clockwork Angel is an absolutely amazing book. It is one of my absolute favorites! I cant wait for Clockwork Prince to come out!!!!! In my opinion, I think that Tessa should be with Jem. I can see how she would like the mysteriousness about Will, and I can tell that he cares about her, but I just think that Jem cares more in the sense of making her feel safe and happy, and that he is more honest with her than Will is. And if Will had a fling with Gabriel Lightwoods sister, how do we know that if Tessa chooses Will, he will have his fun with her and then just go find another girl? But he does say he is intruiged by her, so I dont know. I dont hate Will at all, but I honestly prefer her with Jem. And dont you think its weird that even though Will and Gabriel hate each other, their decendants (Jace and Alec) end up being parabatai? I think its pretty ironic. And btw, I think thats Jem on the cover. Because the person is holding a walking stick with a dragon head, and anyone who has read the book will know that Jem owns a walking stick with a dragon head. But anyway, I cant wait for this book to come out. Im sure i will positively love it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Omg this book was so amazing! Cant believe ill have to wait till 2013 to keep reading this amazing series!!!! I love this author! But at the end i was so sad and so surprised at the same time! I did not expect wat happened to happen i thought it was gonna b the conplete opposite! This book has surprises everytime u turn the page! Its a defenite must read! Definitley one of my fav authors and books!!
I hate love triangles :(
I loved these books but was so mad whn tessa chose to marry jem i mean i feel bad for him but will is so much better nd didnt deserve to get his heart broken nd it was all bc of the stupid curse he thought that demon put on him!! :(
This is Cassandra Clare's best so far! This book has great literary references, and makes everyone wish they living in the 1800s.The plot will keep you on the edge of your seat, and the passion? Wooo you'll need a cold shower afterward. Clare makes it so hard for us to decide who we want Tessa to end up with. It is utterly painful, and wonderful at the same time. You wish that she could be with Jem because this is probably his last, and only chance at happiness, and Will because well I don't want to reveal anything but your heart will just break- basically he deserves to be happy with Tessa. I honestly don't know if I can wait for Clockwork Princess - I'm going through serious withdrawal! Go out and buy this book, you will not be sorry!!
loved it, even more than the first book! good job cassandra! well done! team jem!!! ;)
After reading Clockwork Angel I was left hanging, and couldn't stand it. When Clockwork Prince finally came out, I got so excited! The plot is just as good as the first one, and will keep the pages turning from the action and plot twists. The audience is also introduced to the love triangle of Will, Tessa, and Jem. In most love triangles, I automatically choose one or the other, but with Clockwork Prince, I rather liked both Will and Jem. You can't help, but be drawn to both guys. However, in the end, even though Jem is such a sweetheart, I'm rooting for Will.
I caint believe what happens with Tessa and Jem...I would rather it be Will...but I guess I'm a suckr or the self destrucking heart breakers...still an amazing story with much thought, details, and hard work put into it...very excited for Clockwork Princess!!
By the way the way it is spelled favorite.