Cordelia Carstairs Quotes

“That's everyone's dream, isn't it, really? Instead of many who give you little pieces of themselves-one who gives you everything.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

“I thought of you,” he said again, “and it was as if you were there, with me. I saw your face. Your hair …” He wound a finger through a dangling curl beside her face. She could feel the warmth from his hand against her cheek. “And I was no longer afraid. I knew I would be able to come home, because of you. That you would lead me back. You are my constant star, Daisy.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Iron

“Sometimes grief and worry must take the form of action,” said Cordelia. “Sometimes it is unbearable to sit and wait.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

“Sona looked slightly horrified. “Cordelia has a tendency to throw herself into every situation headlong,” she said to Tessa and Will. “I’m sure you understand.”
“Oh, we do,” said Will. “We’re always speaking very sternly to our children about that very thing. ‘If you don’t throw yourself into situations headlong, James and Lucie, you can expect bread and water for supper again.’  ”
Alastair choked on a laugh. Sona stared at Will as if he were a lizard with feathers.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

“James dropped Cordelia’s hands. They were no longer dancing. James turned away from Cordelia without a word and strode across the room toward the newcomers. She stood, frozen in confusion, as James bent to kiss the hand of the stunningly beautiful girl who had just walked into the room. Titters rose on the dance floor. Lucie had stepped back from Matthew, her eyes wide. Alastair and Thomas both turned to look at Cordelia with expressions of surprise.
At any moment, Cordelia knew, her mother would notice that she was drifting in the middle of the dance floor like an abandoned tugboat and charge toward her, and then Cordelia would die. She would die of the humiliation. Cordelia was scanning the room for the nearest exit, ready to flee, when a hand grasped her arm. She was spun around and into an expert grip: a moment later she was dancing again, her feet automatically following her partner’s.
“That’s right.” It was Matthew Fairchild. Fair hair, spicy cologne, a blur of a smile. His hands were gentle as he swept her back into the waltz. “Just—try to smile, and no one will notice anything happened. James and I are practically interchangeable in the public consciousness anyway.”
“James—left,” Cordelia said, in shock.
“I know,” said Matthew. “Very bad form. One should not leave a lady on the dance floor unless something is actually on fire. I’ll have a word.”
“A word,” Cordelia echoed. She was beginning to feel less stunned and more angry. “A word?”
“Several words, if it will make you feel better?”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

“That's everyone's dream, isn't it, really, instead of many who give you little pieces of themselves - one who gives you everything.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

“As the carriage rolled under the Institute’s gates, James saw his parents standing in the courtyard.
“And where have you been?” Will demanded as James clambered out of the carriage. The others leaped down behind him, the girls, being in gear, needing no help to dismount. “You stole our carriage.”
James wished he could tell his father the truth, but that would be breaking their sworn promise to Ragnor.
“It’s only the second-best carriage,” James protested.
“Remember when Papa stole Uncle Gabriel’s carriage? It’s a proud family tradition,” said Lucie, as the group of them approached the Institute steps.
“I did not raise you to be horse thieves and scallywags,” said Will. “And I recall very clearly that I told you—”
“Thank you for letting them borrow the carriage to come and get me,” said Cordelia. Her eyes were wide, and she looked entirely innocent. James felt an amused stab of surprise: she was an interestingly skilful liar. “I had very much wanted to come to the Institute and see what I could do to help.”
Will softened immediately. “Of course. You are always welcome here, Cordelia.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

“I appreciate the scientific rigor with which you’ve approached this project, Anna,” said Christopher, who had gotten jam on his sleeve. “Though I don’t think I could manage to collect that many names and also pursue science. Much too time-consuming.”
Anna laughed. “How many names would you want to collect, then?”
Christopher tilted his head, a brief frown of concentration crossing his face, and did not reply.
“I would only want one,” said Thomas.
Cordelia thought of the delicate tracery of the compass rose on Thomas’s arm, and wondered if he had any special person in mind.
“Too late for me to only have one,” declared Matthew airily. “At least I can hope for several names in a carefully but enthusiastically selected list.”
“Nobody’s ever tried to seduce me at all,” Lucie announced in a brooding fashion. “There’s no need to look at me like that, James. I wouldn’t say yes, but I could immortalize the experience in my novel.”
“It would be a very short novel, before we got hold of the blackguard and killed him,” said James.
There was a chorus of laughter and argument. The afternoon sun was sinking in the sky, its rays catching the jeweled hilts of the knives in Anna’s mantelpiece. They cast shimmering rainbow patterns on the gold-and-green walls. The light illuminated Anna’s shabby-bright flat, making something in Cordelia’s heart ache. It was such a homey place, in a way that her big cold house in Kensington was not.
“What about you, Cordelia?” said Lucie.
“One,” said Cordelia. “That’s everyone’s dream, isn’t it, really? Instead of many who give you little pieces of themselves—one who gives you everything.”
Anna laughed. “Searching for the one is what leads to all the misery in this world,” she said. “Searching for many is what leads to all the fun.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

“A demon lunged for Alastair: Cordelia brought Cortana down in a great curving arc, severing its head.
Alastair looked peevish. “Really,” he said. “I could have done that on my own.”
Cordelia considered killing Alastair, but there was no time.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

“Will glanced over at Cordelia and smiled. “We could ask for no lovelier girl to be his wife.”
Alastair looked as if he wished to edge away. Cordelia didn’t blame him. “Thank you, Mr. Herondale,” she said. “I hope to live up to your expectations.”
Tessa looked surprised. “Why would you ever worry about that?”
“Cordelia worries,” Alastair said unexpectedly, “because of the idiots who mutter about our father, and our family. She should not let them bother her.”
Tessa laid a gentle hand on Cordelia’s shoulder. “The cruel will always spread rumors,” she said. “And others who take pleasure in that cruelty will believe them and spread them. But I believe that in the end, truth wins out. Besides,” she added with a smile, “the most interesting women are always the most whispered about.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

“Malcolm Fade smiled. “Welcome, little Shadowhunters. Few of your kind ever see the inner chambers of Hypatia Vex.”
“Is she welcome, I wonder?” asked Hypatia, with a catlike smile. “Let her approach.”
Cordelia and Matthew advanced together, Cordelia moving cautiously around the rococo chairs and tables, gleaming with gilt and pearls. Close up, the pupils of Hypatia Vex’s eyes were the shape of stars: her warlock mark. “I cannot say I care for the idea of so many Nephilim infesting my salon. Are you interesting, Cordelia Carstairs?”
Cordelia hesitated.
“If you have to think about it,” said Hypatia, “then you’re not.”
“That hardly makes sense,” said Cordelia. “Surely if you do not think, you cannot be interesting.”
Hypatia blinked, creating the effect of stars turning off and on like lamps. Then she smiled. “I suppose you may stay a moment.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

“Daisy. She seem to blaze like a torch. James had always known she was beautiful-How he always known? Have there been a moment he had realized it? – But still the sight of her hit him like a blow. She was all fire, or heat and light, from the gold silk roses woven into her dark red hair to the ribbons and beads on her golden dress. The hilt of Cortana was visible over her left shoulder; the straps that secured it had been fashioned from thick gold ribbons.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Iron

“I hear you have come to London to be parabatai with our Lucie,” said Cecily. She looked nearly as young as Tessa, though since she wasn’t an immortal warlock, one wondered how she managed it. “I am pleased—it is high time more girls became parabatai. It has been a state monopolized by men for far too long.”
“Well, the first parabatai were male,” Will pointed out, in a manner that made Cordelia wonder if Cecily had once found him insufferable, as she found Alastair.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

“The brave princess Lucretia raced through the marble halls of the palace. "I must find Cordelia, " she gasped. "I must save her."
"I believe Prince James holds her even now, captive in his throne room!" Sir Jerrod exclaimed. "But Princess Lucretia, even though you are the most beautiful and wise lady that I have ever met, surely you cannot fight your way through a hundred of his stoutest palace guard!" The knight's green eyes flashed. His straight black hair was is disarranged, and his white shirt entirely undone.
"But I must!" Lucretia cried.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Iron

“Tessa said, “The natural state of Shadowhunters is battle. When it is always ongoing, there is no time to stop and think that it is not an ideal condition for happiness. Shadowhunters are not suited to a halcyon state, yet we have had that time for the past decade or so. Perhaps we had begun to think ourselves invincible.”
“People are only invincible in books,” said Cordelia.
“I think you will find most of the time, not even then,” said Tessa. “But at least we can always pick up a book and read it anew. Stories offer a thousand fresh starts.”
“The only equivalent in real life is memory,” Tessa said, looking up as Will Herondale came into the room, followed by Cousin Jem. “But memories can be bitter as well as sweet.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

“He is not yours. He is mine. He is mine.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Iron

“She would tell herself she must endure the situation, but I love her, and I cannot bear to see her suffer for the next year. I hope you will forgive me—I think you will forgive me. You must see that in the situation we have now, there are four unhappy people. Surely you, too, wish that were not the case. Surely you care for her even if you do not love her, and want her to be happy.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Iron

“Then this should be fun," Cordelia said quickly. "Seducing Hypatia. After all, what are rules for it not to be broken?”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

“What a pretty dress,” Ariadne said to Cordelia, her voice warm. Her own gown was of flattering wine-colored silk. “I believe that’s the shade they call ‘ashes of roses.’ Very popular in Paris.”
“Oh, yes,” Cordelia said eagerly. She’d known so few girls growing up—just Lucie, really—so how did one impress them and charm them? It was desperately important. “I did get this dress in Paris, as a matter of fact. On Rue de la Paix. Jeanne Paquin made it herself.”
She saw Lucie’s eyes widen in concern. Rosamund’s lips tightened. “How fortunate you are,” she said coolly. “Most of us here in the poky little London Enclave rarely get to travel abroad. You must think us so dull.”
“Oh,” said Cordelia, realizing she had put her foot in it. “No, not at all—”
“My mother has always said Shadowhunters aren’t meant to have much of an interest in fashion,” said Catherine. “She says it’s mundane.”
“Since you’ve spoken of Matthew’s clothes admiringly so often,” said Ariadne tartly, “should we assume that rule is only for girls?”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

“I simply cannot see why one would wish to picnic in the nude. There would be ants in dreadful places.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold

“Cordelia clamped her lips together tightly, as if she were struggling not to cry. Christopher looked terribly alarmed. "Oh, what ho, tears," he said helplessly. "Ghastly- not that you shouldn't cry if you wish, of course. Cry like the blazes, Cordelia."
"Christopher," said James darkly. "You are not helping.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Iron

“Cordelia glanced down. She was scratched, but that was nothing to the spot in her heart where the knowledge that she was Lilith's paladin now bit like teeth. She couldn't look at James- she glanced over and saw Lucie, who was kneeling by Jesse's body. He lay where he had fallen, motionless and unbreathing. If he had not been truly dead before, he was now. Lucie looked utterly lost.
Cordelia closed her eyes, and hot tears spilled down her cheeks, scorching her skin.
"Daisy," she heard James say; she felt his stele brush over her arm, the faint sting and then the numbness of healing runes being applied. "Daisy, my love, I'm so sorry.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Iron

“But I am a paladin,” Cordelia cried. “It’s awful, I loathe it— don’t imagine that I feel anything other than hated for this thing that binds me to Lilith. But they fear me because of it. They dare not touch me—”
“Oh?” snarled James. “They dare not touch you? That’s not what it bloody looked like.”
“The demon at Chiswick House—it was about to tell me something about Belial, before you shot it.”
“Listen to yourself, Cordelia!” James shouted. “You are without Cortana! You cannot even lift a weapon! Do you know what it means to me, that you cannot protect yourself? Do you understand that I am terrified, every moment of every day and night, for your safety?”
Cordelia stood speechless. She had no idea what to say. She blinked, and felt something hot against her cheek. She put her hand up quickly—surely she was not crying?— and it came away scarlet.
“You’re bleeding,” James said. He closed the distance between them in two strides. He caught her chin and lifted it, his thumb stroking across her cheekbone. “Just a scratch,” he breathed. “Are you hurt anywhere else? Daisy, tell me—”
“No. I’m fine. I promise you,” she said, her voice wavering as his intent golden eyes spilled over her, searching for signs of injury. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s the furthest thing from nothing,” James rasped. “By the Angel, when I realized you’d gone out, at night, weaponless—”
“What were you even doing at the house? I thought you were staying at the Institute.”
“I came to get something for Jesse,” James said. “I took him shopping, with Anna—he needed clothes, but we forgot cuff links—”
“He did need clothes,” Cordelia agreed. “Nothing he had fit.”
“Oh, no,” said James. “We are not chatting. When I came in, I saw your dress in the hall, and Effie told me she’d caught a glimpse of you leaving. Not getting in a carriage, just wandering off toward Shepherd Market—”
“So you Tracked me?”
“I had no choice. And then I saw you—you had gone to where your father died,” he said after a moment. “I thought—I was afraid—”
“That I wanted to die too?” Cordelia whispered. It had not occurred to her that he might think that. “James. I may be foolish, but I am not self-destructive.”
“And I thought, had I made you as miserable as that? I have made so many mistakes, but none were calculated to hurt you. And then I saw what you were doing, and I thought, yes, she does want to die. She wants to die and this is how she’s chosen to do it.” He was breathing hard, almost gasping, and she realized how much of his fury was despair.
“James,” she said. “It was a foolish thing to do, but at no moment did I want to die—”
He caught at her shoulders. “You cannot hurt yourself, Daisy. You must not. Hate me, hit me, do anything you want to me. Cut up my suits and set fire to my books. Tear my heart into pieces, scatter them across England. But do not harm yourself—” He pulled her toward him, suddenly, pressing his lips to her hair, her cheek. She caught him by the arms, her fingers digging into his sleeves, holding him to her. “I swear to the Angel,” he said, in a muffled voice, “if you die, I will die, and I will haunt you. I will give you no peace—”
He kissed her mouth. Perhaps it had been meant to be a quick kiss, but she could not help herself: she kissed back. And it was like breathing air after being trapped underground for weeks, like coming into sunlight after darkness.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Thorns

“It is a dreadful chore, being the eldest."

-Alastair Carstairs”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Thorns

“Get on top of me," he said, his voice barely recognizable to his own ears.

It was her turn to look surprised. "What-?"

“I am tied to the bed,” he said. “I cannot get up and kiss you, so I will have to sit here and kiss you. Which means I need you”—he held out his free arm, his gaze never leaving hers—“closer.” ...

"Tell me again what you want me to do," he said.

The smooth column of her throat moved as she swallowed. "Show me how to kiss," she said. "Properly.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Iron

“She was not the same person she had been then, she thought, as Magnus made a gesture, and the brass lamps lining the walls lit, casting the stone walls in eerie gold. She had learned so much since then, of what people were capable of—of what she herself was capable of—and she had learned that things could not be changed by willing them to be different. Dreams, hopes, wishes, were just that. Strength lay in keeping tight hold of reality, even if it was like grasping a stinging nettle in her hand.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Thorns

“I had my reasons, Alastair.”
“I’m sure you did,” he said, surprising her again. “I wish you’d tell me what they were. Are you in love with Matthew?”
“I don’t know,” Cordelia said. Not that she didn’t have thoughts on the matter, but she didn’t feel like sharing them with Alastair at the moment.
“Are you in love with James, then?”
“Well. We are married.”
“That’s not really an answer,” said Alastair. “I don’t really like James,” he added, “but on the other hand, I also don’t like Matthew very much. So you see, I am torn.”
“Well, this must be very difficult for you,” Cordelia said crossly. “I cannot imagine how you will find it within yourself to go on.”
She made a dismissive gesture, which was spoiled when Alastair burst out laughing. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But those gloves are enormous on you.”
“Humph,” said Cordelia.
“About James—”
“Are we the sort of family that discusses our intimate relationships now?” Cordelia interrupted. “Perhaps you would like to talk about Charles?”
Generally not. Charles seems to be healing up, and beyond him surviving, I have no further interest in what happens to him,” said Alastair. “In fact, there have been a few touch-and-go moments with my caring about whether he survives. He was always demanding that I adjust his pillows. ‘And now the foot pillow, Alastair,” he said in a squeaky voice that, to be fair, sounded nothing like the actual Charles. Alastair was terrible at impressions.
“I wouldn’t mind a foot pillow,” said Cordelia. “It sounds rather nice.”
“You are clearly in an emotional state, so I will ignore your rambling,” said Alastair. “Look, you need not discuss your feelings about James, Matthew, or whatever other harem of men you may have acquired, with me. I merely want to know if you’re all right.”
“No, you want to know if either of them has done something awful to me, so you can chase them around, shouting,” said Cordelia darkly.
“I could do both,” Alastair pointed out.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Thorns

“After a careful look up and down the corridor, James ushered Cordelia down the stairs. But their covert escape was not to be: Will appeared suddenly on the landing, in the midst of fixing his cuff links, and beamed with delight to see Cordelia. “My dear,” he said. “A pleasure to see you. Have you come from Cornwall Gardens? How is your mother?”
“Oh, very well, thank you,” Cordelia said, then realized that if her mother really were in peak condition, she had little excuse for staying away from James and the Institute. “Well, she has been very tired, and of course we are all concerned that she get her energy back. Risa has been trying to build her back up again with many…soups.”
Soups? Cordelia was not at all sure why she’d said that. Perhaps because her mother had always told her that ash-e jo, a sour barley soup, could cure anything.
“Soups?”
“Soups,” Cordelia said firmly. “Risa’s caretaking is very thorough, though of course, my mother wishes me to be by her side as much as possible. I have been reading to her—”
“Oh, anything interesting? I’m always seeking a new book,” said Will, having finished with the cuff links. They were studded with yellow topaz. The color of James’s eyes.
“Ah—no,” said Cordelia. “Only very boring things, really. Books about…ornithology.” Will’s eyebrows went up, but James had already thrown himself into the fray.
“I really must get Cordelia back home,” he said, laying a hand on her back. It was an entirely ordinary husbandly gesture, not at all remarkable. It felt to Cordelia like being struck by lightning between her shoulder blades. “I’ll see you in a moment, Father.”
“Well Cordelia, we all hope you’ll be back before too long,” Will said. “James is positively pining away without you here. Incomplete without his better half, eh, James?” He went away up the stairs and down the corridor, whistling.
“Well,” said James after a long silence. “I thought, when I was ten years old and my father showed everyone the drawings I’d made of myself as Jonathan Shadowhunter, slaying a dragon, that was the most my parents would ever humiliate me. But that is no longer the case. There is a new champion.”
“Your father is something of a romantic, that’s all.”
“So you’ve noticed?”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Thorns

“... But he was a boy. People treated boys differently.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Thorns

“There is no special protection in this world for kind people.”
― Cassandra Clare, Chain of Gold