Queen of Air and Darkness
Page 121

People were made up of all sorts of different bits, Dru thought. Funny bits and romantic bits and selfish bits and brave bits. Sometimes you saw only a few of them. Maybe it was when you saw them all that you realized you knew someone really well.
She wondered if there would ever be anyone besides her family that she knew like that.
“We should go downstairs,” Ty said, his gray eyes curious. “Find out what’s going on.”
He headed for the trapdoor that led to the stairs. Kit had just started to follow him when Drusilla tapped him on the shoulder.
Kit turned to look at her. “What is it?”
“Ty,” she said in a low voice. Dru glanced over at her brother automatically as she said his name; he’d already disappeared down the steps. “I want to talk to you about him, but not with anyone else around, and you have to promise not to tell him. Can you promise?”
* * *
“Have a good watch,” Jace said, ruffling Clary’s hair. Diana and Gwyn had departed for Idris. Emma had watched them vanish until they were a speck on the horizon, disappearing into the haze of the Los Angeles air. Alec had gone to be with Magnus, and the rest of them had agreed to take turns at patrolling the perimeter of the Institute.
“We need to be alert,” Julian had said. “This message from the Cohort is a loyalty test. They’re going to be watching Institutes to see who races to Alicante to pledge themselves to the fight against Faerie. They know we’ll delay as long as possible”—he gestured at Mark and Helen—“but I wouldn’t put it past them to move on us first.”
“That wouldn’t be very clever,” Mark had said, frowning. “All they have to do is wait, and they can declare us traitors soon enough.”
“They’re not that smart,” Julian had agreed grimly. “Vicious, but not smart.”
“Unfortunately, Manuel is pretty smart,” said Emma, and though everyone had looked grimmer than ever, no one had disagreed.
Clary and Emma had the second watch after Jace and Helen; Helen had already gone inside to check on Aline, and Emma was trying to look off into the distance while Clary and Jace kissed and made cutesy noises at each other.
“I hope everything’s all right in Alicante,” she said eventually, more to determine if they were still kissing than anything else.
“It can’t be,” said Jace, breaking away from Clary. “They all think I’m dead. There had better be a mourning parade. We should find out who’s sending flowers.”
Clary rolled her eyes, not without affection. “Maybe Simon or Izzy can make a list. Then when we come back from the dead, we can send them flowers.”
“Women will be in mourning to hear of my passing,” Jace said, bounding up the steps. “Garments will be rent. Rent, I tell you.”
“You’re taken,” Clary called up at him. “It’s not like you’re a single dead hero.”
“Love knows no bounds,” said Jace, and sobered. “I’m going to go check on Alec and Magnus. I’ll see you two later.”
He waved and vanished. Clary and Emma, both in gear, started to cut across the grass toward the path that led around the Institute.
Clary sighed. “Jace hates being away from Alec at times like this. There isn’t anything he can do, but I understand wanting to be with your parabatai when they’re suffering. I’d want to be with Simon.”
“It’s not like he’s there just for himself,” Emma said. The sky was dark blue and chased with fading clouds. “I’m sure it’s better for Alec, having him there. I mean, I think part of what was so awful for the Alec in Thule was that he must have felt so alone when he lost Magnus. So many of his friends were already dead, and his parabatai was worse than dead.”
Clary shuddered. “We should talk about something more cheerful.”
Emma tried to think about cheerful things. Julian getting the spell taken off him? Not a topic she could discuss. Zara being squished by a boulder made her seem vengeful.
“We could discuss your visions,” she said carefully. Clary looked at her in surprise. “The ones you told me about, where you said you saw yourself die. In the Unseelie Court, when you looked through the Portal—”
“I realized what I’d been seeing, yes,” Clary said. “I was seeing me, and I was dead, and I was also seeing the dream I’d been having.” She took a deep breath. “I haven’t had it since we came back from Faerie. I think the dreams were actually trying to tell me about Thule.”
They had reached the place where grass turned into desert and scrub; the ocean was a thick line of blue paint in the distance. “Did you tell Jace?” Emma asked.
“No. I can’t do it now. I feel so stupid, and like he might never forgive me—and besides, Jace needs to focus on Alec and Magnus. We all do.” Clary kicked a small stone out of her path. “I’ve known Magnus since I was a little girl. The first time I met him, I pulled his cat’s tail. I didn’t know he could have turned me into a frog or a mailbox if he wanted.”
“Magnus will be okay,” Emma said, but she knew she didn’t sound sure. She couldn’t be.
Clary’s voice shook. “I just feel like, if the warlocks are lost—if the Cohort succeeds in pitting Shadowhunters against Downworlders in war—then everything I ever did was useless. Everything I gave up during the Dark War. And it means I’m not a hero. I never was.”
Clary stopped walking to lean against a massive boulder, one that Ty liked to climb. She was clearly struggling not to cry. Emma stared at her in horror.
“Clary,” she said. “You’re the one who taught me what being a hero means. You said heroes don’t always win. That sometimes they lose, but they keep fighting.”
“I thought I had kept fighting. I guess I thought I had won,” Clary said.
“I’ve been to Thule,” Emma said fiercely. “That world was the way it was because you weren’t in it. You were the crisis point, you made all the difference. Without you, Sebastian would have won the Dark War. Without you, so many people would be dead, and so much goodness would be gone from the world forever.”
Clary took a deep breath. “We’re never done fighting, are we?”
“I don’t think so,” Emma said.
Clary pushed away from the rock. They rejoined the path, curving through the desert among the shrubs, deep green and chalky violet. The sun was low over the horizon, lighting the desert sand to gold.
“In Thule,” Emma said as they rounded the corner of the Institute, “Jace was under Sebastian’s mind control. But there was something I didn’t say in the library. Sebastian was able to control Jace only because he lied about his involvement in your death. He was afraid that even under a spell, no matter how strong the spell was, Jace would never forgive him for letting you be hurt.”
“And you’re telling me this because?” Clary eyed Emma sideways.
“Because Jace would forgive you for anything,” said Emma. “Go tell him you were being a butt for a good reason, and ask him to marry you.”
Clary burst out laughing. “That’s romantic.”
Emma grinned. “That’s just my suggestion about the sentiment. The actual proposal is up to you.”
* * *
Helen had given Magnus and Alec one of the largest rooms. Jace suspected it had probably belonged to the Blackthorns’ parents at one time.
It was odd, actually, even to think of Blackthorn parents and not to think of Julian—quiet, competent, secretive Julian—as the one who took care of the children. But people became what they had to be: Julian probably hadn’t wanted to become a parent at age twelve, any more than Jace had wanted to leave Idris and lose his father at age nine. He would not have believed it if someone had told him he would gain a new and better family in New York, just as Julian would not have believed that he would love his siblings so fiercely it would all be worth it. Or so Jace suspected, at least.
Jace looked over at Alec, the brother he had gained. Alec sat propped on one side of the big wooden bed in the room’s center: Magnus lay beside him, curled on his side, his black hair stark against the white pillow.