Clockwork Prince Teasers Collection p2

*Click here for part 1* 

Second part of CP teasers contain the short lines too :)

First, the last teaser posted:

Tessa pushed the carriage curtains aside. Outside she could see the gaslights going by in a yellow blur; two children were slumped in a doorway, leaning against each other, asleep. Temple Bar flew by overhead. 
“Have you ever thought of transforming yourself into one of your parents?” Will asked. “Your mother, or father? It would give you access to their memories, wouldn’t it?”
She turned to look at him. “I have thought of it. Of course I have. But I have nothing of my father’s or mother’s. Everything that was packed in my trunks for the voyage here was discarded by the Dark Sisters.”
“What about your angel necklace?” Will asked. “Wasn’t that your mother’s?”
Tessa shook her head. “I tried. I — I could reach nothing of her in it. It has been mine so long, I think, that what made it hers has evaporated, like water.”
Will’s eyes were dark blue in the shadows. “Perhaps you are a clockwork girl. Perhaps Mortmain’s warlock father built you, and now Mortmain seeks the secret of how to create such a perfect facsimile of life when all he can build are hideous monstrosities. Perhaps all that beats beneath your chest is a heart made of metal.”
Tessa drew in a breath, feeling momentarily dizzy. His soft voice was so convincing, and yet — “No,” she said, sharply. “You forget, I remember my childhood. Mechanical creatures do not change or grow. Nor would that explain my ability.”
“I know,” said Will, with a grin that flashed white in the darkness. “I only wanted to see if I could convince *you*.”
Tessa looked at him steadily. “I am not the one of us who has no heart.”
It was too dim in the carriage for her to tell, but she sensed that he had flushed, as he did when startled or upset, across the tops of his cheekbones. To her surprise, he reached out a gloved hand for her. It just brushed the edges of her curls, the kid leather smooth against her cheek — and the carriage wheels came to a jerking halt. They had arrived.

CP deleted scene

The darkness came and went in waves that grew ever slower. Tessa was
beginning to feel lighter, less like an awful weight was pressing her
down. She wondered how much time had passed. It was night in the
infirmary, and she could see Will a few beds away from her, a curled
figure under the blankets, dark head pillowed on his arm. Brother
Enoch had given him a tisane to drink once the [redacted] was cut out
of his skin, and he had fallen asleep almost instantly, thank God. The
sight of him in that much pain had been more harrowing than she could
have imagined.
She was in a clean white nightgown now; someone must have cut away her
blood-stiffened clothes and washed her hair before bandaging her — it
lay softly over his shoulders, no longer twisted into rat-tails of
tangles and drying blood.
‘Tessa,” came a whispered voice. “Tess?”
Only Will calls me that. She opened her eyes, but it was Jem seated on
the side of her bed, looking down at her. The moonlight spilling
through the high ceilings turned him almost transparent, an ethereal
angel, all silver but for the gold chain at his throat.
He smiled. “You’re awake.”
“I’ve been awake here and there.” She coughed. “Enough to know I’m all
right besides a crack on the head. A lot of fuss about nothing —”
Tessa’s eyes dropped, and she saw that Jem was carrying something in
his hands: a thick mug of some liquid that sent up a fragrant steam.
“What’s that?”
“One of Brother Enoch’s tisanes,” said Jem. “It will help you sleep.”
“All I’ve been doing is sleeping!”
“And very amusing it is to watch,” said Jem. “Did you know you twitch
your nose when you sleep, like a rabbit?”
“I do not,” she said, with a whispered laugh.
“You do,” he said. “Fortunately, I like rabbits.” He handed her the
cup. “Drink just a little,” He said. “It is right for you to sleep.
Brother Enoch says to think of the wounds and shocks to your spirit as
you would think of wounds and shocks to your body. You must rest the
injured part of yourself before you begin to heal.”
Tessa was dubious, but she took a sip of the tisane anyway, and then
another. It had a pleasant taste, like cinnamon. Barely had she
swallowed the second mouthful when a feeling of exhaustion swept over
her. She lay back against the pillows, listening to his soft voice
telling her a story about a beautiful young woman whose husband had
died building the Great Wall of China, and who had cried so much over
his loss that she had turned into a silvery fish and swum away across
a river. As Tessa drifted off into dreams, she felt his gentle hands
take the cup from her and set it down on the bedside table. She wanted
to thank him, but she was already asleep.

Short lines:

“What desperation drove you to me, in the middle of the night, in a
rainstorm? What has changed at the Institute? I can only think of one
thing…”

---

Will: ““Tess,” he said, and she thought, once again, how no one but
him ever called her that. “That is all I think about.”
---

Tessa: “Jem!” she cried again, and when he did not look up, she
strode across the room, and wrenched the bow out of his hand. “Jem, stop!”
---

“They’re not hideous,” said Tessa.
Will blinked at her. “What?”
“Gideon and Gabriel,” said Tessa. “They’re really quite good-looking, not hideous at all.”
“I spoke,” said Will, in sepulchral tones, “of the pitch-black inner depths of their souls.”
Tessa snorted. “And what color do you suppose the inner depths of your soul are, Will Herondale?”
“Mauve,” said Will.
---

Will’s voice dropped. “Everyone makes mistakes, Jem.”
“Yes,” said Jem. “You just make more of them than most people.”
“I —”
“You hurt everyone,” said Jem. “Everyone whose life you touch.”
“Not you,” Will whispered. “I hurt everyone but you. I never meant to
hurt you.”
Jem put his hands up, pressing his palms against his eyes. “Will —”
“You can’t never forgive me,” Will said in disbelief, hearing the
panic tinging his own voice. “I’d be —”
“Alone?” Jem lowered his hand, but he was smiling now, crookedly. “And
whose fault is that?”

---
“He’s Nephilim,” said his companion. “And you’ve never cared for them.
How much did he pay you?”
“Nothing,” said Magnus, and now he was not seeing anything that was
there, not the river, not Will, only a wash of memories: eyes, faces,
lips, receding into memory, love that he could no longer put a name
to. “He did me a favor. One he doesn’t even remember.”
“He’s very pretty. For a human.”
“He’s very broken,” said Magnus. “Like a lovely vase that someone has
smashed. Only luck and skill can put it back together the way it was
before.”
---

“Say something in Mandarin,” said Tessa, with a smile.
Jem said something that sounded like a lot of breathy vowels and
consonants run together, his voice rising and falling melodically: “Ni
hen piao liang.”
“What did you say?” Tessa was curious.
“I said your hair is coming undone — here,” he said, and reached out
and tucked an escaping curl back behind her ear. Tessa felt the blood
spill hot up into her face, and was glad for the dimness of the
carriage. “You have to be careful with it,” he said, taking his hand
back, slowly, his fingers lingering against her cheek.
---

““You’re seventeen,” Magnus said. “You can’t have wasted a life you’ve
barely lived.”

Source: teasers