Trapped

Trapped

IDRISNNET'S GET TO KNOW THE MEMBERS: bella

favorite ship: gracetopher

In all honesty, Christopher had no idea why he’d volunteered to watch Grace overnight. Maybe it was because he felt sorry for her. Perhaps it was because of pity, but he’d be lying if he said that she didn’t intrigue him.

She sat on the floor, her head buried in her hands. She hadn’t said anything to him or the rest of the Merry Thieves since James had told them to watch her in case she “tried anything.”

Christopher wasn’t fully aware of what had happened between James and Grace, but he knew better than to ask questions.

“Can I get you anything?” Christopher asked her. “Perhaps some tea?”

Her voice was muffled by her hands, and he struggled to hear her. “You shouldn’t be offering your prisoner tea, Mr. Lightwood.”

“You’re not a prisoner.”

She pulled her head out of her hands and laughed, and the sound sent a shiver down his spine. Her eyes darted across the room, looking at anything but him. “What would you call me, then? An unwilling guest? I’m trapped here, and you’re trapped with me.”

“I don’t feel so trapped,” he said. “And you shouldn’t, either.”

“And why is that? Does a criminal deserve to feel free?”

“You’re not a criminal, Miss Blackthorn.”

She winced at her surname. “Please, just call me Grace.”

“You are not a criminal, Grace. You did what you had to do in order to survive. Any of us would have done the same if we were put into your situation. It isn’t right of us to blame you for that.”

She sighed, curling in on herself further. Her voice was barely audible. “Well, I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m not quite sure your friends feel the same way.”

“It doesn’t matter what they think,” Christopher said. “It just matters what the clave will think.”

“Don’t even get me started on what the clave is going to think. They may have been the ones to get me into this mess, but they would never get me out of it.”

“What do you mean? The clave— the clave can help you.”

She laughed bitterly. “They can. But they won’t. Do you truly think they’ll sympathize with the accomplice of a prince of hell?”

“Unwilling accomplice,” Christopher insisted. “That’s what you were. And the Mortal Sword will prove it. And then they’ll have to help you. My aunt Charlotte—“

“If you think she’ll go easy on me, you’re sadly mistaken. She’s not my aunt. To me, she’s just the Consul.”

He stood from his seat, crossing the room to sit next to Grace on the floor. “We will get you through this,” he whispered. “I promise you.”

She sat up, but she didn’t turn to look at him. “Don’t make promises you have no intention of keeping, Mr Lightwood.”

“Just Christopher, please. And I’ve every intention of keeping this promise.”

She froze, making eye contact with him for the first time that night. “I appreciate it, I really do, but I’m afraid you won’t have much of a say in the matter.”

Christopher didn’t know how to respond to that. In the eyes of the clave, he was just a teenager, with no power, no ability to do anything to help Grace. But he’d be damned if he didn’t try.