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Cassandra Clare

The Last Hours: Chain of Thorns

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    Now, he and Alastair would be helping Sona move, along with baby Zachary, to Cirenworth, and after that, Thomas would be joining Alastair to live at Cornwall Gardens. (Thomas still remembered Alastair asking him if he would like it if they lived together; Alastair had been clearly terrified that Thomas would say no, and Thomas had had to kiss him and kiss him until he was pushed up against a wall and breathless before he finally believed that Thomas’s answer was yes.)
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    A year ago, perhaps Thomas would have thought Alastair was being serious; now he knew he was being ridiculous on purpose. He was quite a bit sillier than anyone gave him credit for. A year ago, Thomas would never have been able to picture Alastair down on his knees in the mud and grass with a dog. He would not have been able to picture Alastair smiling, much less smiling at him, and it would have been far beyond his wildest imaginings to picture what kissing Alastair would be like.
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    “Because the Consul is the mother of the dog’s owner,” pointed out Thomas, trying—and failing—to prevent Oscar from licking his face.

    “Terrible favoritism,” Alastair said.
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    “The Consul presented it,” Alastair said, kneeling down as well. He caught at the little medallion attached to Oscar’s collar. It was etched with the words OSCAR WILDE, HERO DOG. Charlotte had presented it to Matthew, saying that as far as she was concerned, Oscar had done as much as any human to save London.
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    “I do not see,” Alastair said as Oscar deposited a stick at his feet, “why this hound here got a medal. None of the rest of us got a medal.”

    “Well, it isn’t an official medal,” said Thomas, dropping to his knees in the grass to rub Oscar’s head and muddle his ears about. “You do know that.”
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    “You told me once you don’t believe in endings, happy or otherwise,” he said, his calloused hand gently cradling the back of her head. “Is that still true?”

    “Of course,” she said. “We have so much yet ahead—good, bad, and everything else. I believe this is our happy middle. Don’t you?”
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    “I’m sure you and Mother got up to all sorts of scandalous things when you lived together in the Institute,” Lucie had said.

    “Exactly,” Will replied darkly.

    Tessa had laughed. “Maybe when you’re engaged, we can loosen the rules,” she said cheerfully.
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    “I was about to come over there—”

    “It’s all right,” Lucie said. “He’s upset with me. I did make him a promise and break it. I feel awful.”

    Jesse shook his head. “There’s nothing you could have done. You did not know the power would be extinguished,” he said. “In the end, his anger is not at you. It is at what happened a long time ago. I only hope he can let go of it. Nothing can be done for Annabel now, and dwelling on the past will poison his future.”

    “When did you get so wise?” she whispered
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    “You can’t tease Thomas for always being hungry when you’re always hungry,” Lucie pointed out.
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    “I’m hiding a few. Otherwise Thomas will eat them all,” Jesse said, setting aside several of the Bakewell tarts. As he moved, a thick black Mark on his right forearm flashed. Home. It was a rarely used Mark, symbolic rather than practical, like the runes for grief and happiness.
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