“I told some of you last night, but it’s probably best I explain it again,” she said. “We were able to get a great deal of water from Lake Lyn with the help of the Wild Hunt; they are currently distributing it to warlocks all over the world.”
“The Clave and Council have noticed nothing,” said Helen. “Aline spoke to her father this morning and he confirmed it.” Aline was in the office now, tracking the progress of the deliveries of the lake water to warlocks in even the remotest places.
Emma raised her Styrofoam cup of tea. “Good job, Diana!”
A cheer went around the table; Diana smiled. “I could not have done it without Gwyn,” she said. “Or without Kieran. It is faeries who have helped us.”
“The Children of Lilith will indeed be in debt to the Children of the Courts after this day, Kieran Kingson,” said Magnus, staring intently in what he clearly thought was Kieran’s direction.
“That was a very nice speech, Bane,” said Jace. “Unfortunately, you’re talking to a doughnut.”
“I appreciate the sentiment regardless,” said Kieran. He had blushed at Diana’s words and the tops of his cheekbones were still pink. It made a nice contrast with his blue hair.
Diana cleared her throat. “We brought the lake water to the blight,” she said. “It seemed to stop it from spreading, but the land is still ruined. I don’t know if it will heal.”
“Tessa says it will stop affecting the warlocks,” said Cristina. “That the land will always be scarred, but the sickness will no longer spread.”
“Did you see anything else in Idris?” Julian asked. Emma looked at him sideways; it hurt to look at him too directly. “Anything else we should know?”
Diana turned the cup in her hands around thoughtfully. “Idris feels—empty and strange with no Downworlders there. Some of its magic has fled. A Brocelind without faeries is just a forest. It is as if a piece of the soul of Idris is gone.”
“Helen—” It was Aline, slamming the door behind her; she looked disheveled and worried. In her hand was a piece of slightly charred paper—a fire-message. She stopped dead as she seemed to realize how many other people were in the library. “I just talked to Maia in New York. A mob of Shadowhunters descended on a group of harmless faeries and slaughtered them. Kaelie Whitewillow is dead.” Aline’s voice was tight with strain.
“How dare they?” Magnus sat up straight, his face alive with fury. He slammed the vial down on the table. “The Cold Peace wasn’t enough? Banishing Downworlders who have lived in Idris for centuries wasn’t enough? Now it’s murder?”
“Magnus—” Alec began, clearly worried.
Blue flame shot from Magnus’s hands. Everyone jerked backward; Dru grabbed Tavvy. Kieran flung an arm across Cristina to shield her; so did Mark, at the same time. No one looked more startled than Cristina.
Emma raised an eyebrow at Cristina across the table. Cristina blushed, and both Mark and Kieran quickly dropped their arms.
The blue flame was gone in a moment; there was a streak of char on the table, but no other damage. Magnus looked down at his hands in surprise.
“Your magic’s back!” said Clary.
Magnus winked at her. “Some say it was never gone, biscuit.”
“This can’t go on,” Jace said. “This attack was in revenge for our deaths.”
Clary agreed. “We have to tell people we’re alive. We can’t let our names become instruments of vengeance.”
A hubbub of voices broke out at the table. Jace was looking sick; Alec had a hand on his parabatai’s shoulder. Magnus was grimly studying his hands, still blue at the fingertips.
“Be realistic, Clary,” Helen said. “How do you plan to reveal yourselves and still keep yourselves safe?”
“I don’t care about being safe,” Clary said.
“No, you never have,” Magnus pointed out. “But you are a significant weapon against the Cohort. You and Jace. Don’t take yourselves out of the equation.”
“A message from Idris came while I was in the office,” said Aline. “The parley with the Unseelie King and Horace Dearborn will take place on the Imperishable Fields in two days.”
“Who’s going to be there?” said Emma.
“Just the Cohort and the King,” she said.
“So they could say anything at all to each other, and we wouldn’t know?” said Mark.
Aline frowned. “No, that’s the odd thing. The letter said the parley would be Projected throughout Alicante. Everyone in the city will be able to see it.”
“Horace wants to be observed,” Julian said, half to himself.
“What do you mean?” Emma asked him.
He frowned, clearly puzzled and frustrated. “I don’t—I’m not entirely sure—”
“Manuel spoke of this in Faerie,” said Mark, as if suddenly remembering something. “Did he not, Kieran? He said to Oban: ‘When every Shadowhunter sees you meet and achieve a mutually beneficial peace, all will realize that you and Horace Dearborn are the greatest of leaders, able to achieve the alliance your forefathers could not.’ ”
“Oban and Manuel knew this would happen?” said Emma. “How could they have known?”
“Somehow, this is the unfolding of the Cohort’s plan,” said Magnus. “And that can’t be good.” He frowned. “It only involves half of Faerie. The Unseelie half.”
“But they are the half who are trying to destroy Nephilim. The half that opened the Portal to Thule and brought the blight,” said Mark.
“And it is a fact that many Shadowhunters will simply think that it is another sign the Fair Folk are evil,” said Cristina. “The Cold Peace made little distinction between Seelie and Unseelie, though it was only the Seelie Court who fought on Sebastian Morgenstern’s side.”
“It was also only the Seelie Court who accepted the terms of the Cold Peace,” said Kieran. “In the King’s mind, it has been war between Unseelie and Nephilim since then. Clearly, Oban and the Cohort are planning to make that war a reality. Oban does not care about his people, and neither does Horace Dearborn. They plan for the parley to fail before all, and Dearborn and Oban will tear power from the ruins.”
Julian was still frowning, as if trying to solve a puzzle. “Power does come from wartime,” he said. “But . . .”
“Now that the warlocks are cured, it’s time for us to stop hiding,” Jace said. “We need to intercede in Idris—before this sham parley.”
“Intercede?” said Julian.
“A team of us will go in,” said Jace. “The usual suspects—we’ll bring Isabelle and Simon, Bat and Maia and Lily, the core group we trust. We’ll have the advantage of surprise. We break into the Gard, free the Consul, and take the Inquisitor prisoner. We get him to confess what he’s done.”
“He won’t confess,” Julian said. “He’s a true believer. And if he dies for his cause, so much the better for him.”
Everyone looked at Julian in some surprise.
“Well, you can’t be suggesting we let the Cohort go on as they are,” Cristina said.
“No,” said Julian. “I am suggesting we raise a resistance.”
“There aren’t enough of us,” said Clary. “And those who oppose the Cohort are scattered all over. How are we to know who is loyal to Horace and who isn’t?”
“I was in the Council room before Annabel killed my sister,” Julian said. Emma felt her spine freeze; surely the others would notice how flatly he spoke about Livvy? “I saw how people reacted to Horace. And at the funeral, too, when he spoke. There are those who oppose him. I’m suggesting we reach out to Downworlders, to faeries, to warlocks, and to the Shadowhunters we know are against the Cohort, to form a bigger coalition.”
He’s thinking of Livvy in Thule, Emma realized. Her rebels—Downworlders and Shadowhunters together. But he should say rebels, then. Freedom fighters. Livvy inspired people to fight—
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kieran get up and quietly leave the room. Mark and Cristina watched him go.
�
��It’s too dangerous,” said Jace, sounding truly regretful. “We could bring a traitor into our midst. We can’t just go off your guesses about what people believe—”
“Julian is the smartest person I know,” said Mark firmly. “He isn’t wrong about how people feel.”
“We believe him,” said Alec. “But we can’t take the risk of bringing someone into our confidence who might spill our secrets to the Cohort.”
Julian’s face was still, only his eyes moving, roving up and down the table, studying the faces of his companions. “What the Cohort has going for them is that they’re together. They’re united. We’re individually throwing ourselves into danger to spare others from danger. What if instead we all stood together? We would be far more powerful—”
Jace cut him off. “It’s a good idea, Julian, but we just can’t do it.”
Julian went quiet, though Emma sensed he had more to say. He wasn’t going to push it. Maybe if he were more himself he would—but not this Julian.
Alec rose to his feet. “Magnus and I had better head to New York for tonight. If we’re all going to go to Idris, we should get the kids to my mom. We can bring Simon and Izzy back with us.”
“We’ll stay here,” said Jace, indicating himself and Clary. “This place is still vulnerable to an attack by the Cohort. We’ll be the first line of defense.”
“We should all be ready,” Clary said. “If it’s okay, Helen, we’ll go up to the weapons room, see if we need to requisition anything—” She paused. “I guess we can’t reach out to the Iron Sisters, can we?”
“They oppose the government in Idris,” said Aline. “But they’ve shut themselves up in the Adamant Citadel. They haven’t yet responded to any messages.”
“There are other ways to get weapons,” said Ty. “There’s the Shadow Market.”
Emma tensed, wondering if anyone was going to point out that the Shadow Market was technically off-limits to Shadowhunters.
No one did.
“Good idea,” said Jace. “Weapons are gettable if we need them—there are weapons caches in every church and holy building in Los Angeles, but—”
“But you’re not fighting demons,” said Kit. “Are you?”
Jace gave him a long look; it was hard to miss their resemblance when they were at close quarters. “Not the usual kind,” he said, and he and Clary headed to the weapons room.
Mark was on his feet too; he headed out of the room with Cristina by his side, and Ty and Kit followed shortly after. Dru left with Tavvy and his Slinky. Amid the scattering, Magnus looked across the table at Julian, his cat’s eyes sharp.
“You stay,” he said. “I want to talk to you.”
Helen and Aline looked curious. Alec raised an eyebrow. “All right,” he said. “I’ll go call Izzy and let her know we’re on our way back.” He glanced over at Aline and Helen. “I could use some help packing. Magnus isn’t quite up to it yet.”
He’s lying to get them out of the room, Emma thought. The invisible communication between Alec and Magnus was easy to read: She wondered if people could see the same with her and Julian. Was it clear when they were silently conversing? Not that they’d been doing that since they’d gotten back from Thule.
Magnus started to turn to Emma, but Julian shook his head minutely. “Emma knows,” he said. “She can stay.”
Magnus sat back while the others filed out of the room. In a moment it was empty except for the three of them: Emma, Julian, and Magnus. Magnus was regarding the two Shadowhunters quietly, his steady eyes moving from Julian to Emma and back again.
“When did you tell Emma about the spell, Julian?” Magnus asked, his voice deceptively bland. Emma suspected there was more to the question than was immediately obvious.
Julian’s dark eyebrows drew together. “As soon as I could. She knows I want you to take it off me.”
“Ah,” Magnus said. He leaned back against the sofa. “You begged for that spell,” he said. “You were desperate, and in danger. Are you sure you want me to remove it?”
The bright sunlight turned Julian’s eyes to the color of tropical oceans in magazines; he wore a long-sleeved shirt that matched his eyes, and he was so beautiful it made her heart stutter in her chest.
But it was a statue’s beauty. His expression was nearly blank; she couldn’t read him at all. They had barely spoken since that night in her room.
Maybe it had been enough time now that he had forgotten what it meant to feel; maybe he didn’t want it anymore. Maybe he hated her. Maybe it was best if he did hate her, but Emma could never believe it would be best if he never felt anything again.
After an excruciating moment of silence, Julian reached down and drew up his left sleeve. His forearm was bare of bandages. He stretched his arm out to Magnus.
YOU ARE IN THE CAGE.
The color drained from Magnus’s face. “My God,” he said.
“I cut this into my arm in Thule,” Julian said. “When I had my emotions back, I was able to realize how miserable I’d been without them.”
“That is—brutal.” Magnus was clearly shaken. His hair had gotten quite shaggy, Emma thought. It was rare to see Magnus less than perfectly coiffed. “But I suppose you’ve always been determined. I talked to Helen while you were missing—she confirmed for me that you’d been running the Institute for quite a while on your own. Covering up for Arthur, who never recovered from his experience in Faerie.”
“What does that have to do with the spell?” said Julian.
“It sounds as if you’ve always had to make hard choices,” said Magnus. “For yourself, and for the people you care about. This seems like another hard choice. I still know less than I wish I did about the outcome of the parabatai curse. A friend of mine has been looking into it, though, and from what he’s told me, the threat is very real.” He looked pained. “You may be better off as you are.”
“I’m not,” Julian said. “And you know this isn’t emotionality talking.” Despite the bitterness of the words, his tone was flat. “Without my emotions, without my feelings, I’m a worse Shadowhunter. I make poorer decisions. I wouldn’t trust someone who felt nothing for anyone. I wouldn’t want them to make decisions that affected other people. Would you?”
Magnus looked thoughtful. “Hard to say. You’re very clever.”
Julian didn’t look as if the compliment affected him one way or the other. “I wasn’t always clever in the way you mean. From the time I turned twelve, when my father died and the kids became my responsibility, I had to learn how to lie. To manipulate. So if that’s cleverness, I had it. But I knew where to stop.”
Magnus raised his eyebrows.
“Julian without feelings,” said Emma, “doesn’t know where to stop.”
“I liked your idea earlier,” Magnus said, looking at Julian curiously. “Raising a resistance. Why didn’t you push it more?”
“Because Jace wasn’t wrong,” Julian said. “We could be betrayed. Normally I’d be able to think past that. Imagine a solution. But not like this.” He touched his temple, frowning. “I thought I’d be able to think more clearly, without feelings. But the opposite is true. I can’t think at all. Not properly.”
Magnus hesitated.
“Please,” Emma said.
“You’ll need a plan,” Magnus said. “I know your plan before was exile, but that was when Robert could help you. Horace Dearborn won’t.”
“Dearborn won’t, but another Inquisitor might. We must overthrow the Cohort in any case. There’s a chance the next Inquisitor might be reasonable,” said Julian.
“They don’t have a history of being reasonable,” said Magnus. “And we don’t really know the time frame here.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “I have an idea,” he said finally. “You won’t like it.”
“What about one we would like?” Emma suggested.
Magnus gave her a dark look. “There are a few things that will, in an emergent situation, break your bond. Death, which I don’t recommend. Being b
itten by a vampire—hard to arrange, and can also end in death. Having your Marks stripped off and being turned into a mundane. Probably the best option.”
“But only the Silent Brothers can do that,” said Emma. “And we can’t get near them right now.”
“There’s Jem,” Magnus said. “He and I have both seen Marks stripped. And he was a Silent Brother himself. Together, we could make it happen.” He looked slightly ill. “It would be painful and unpleasant. But if there was no other choice—”
“I’ll do it,” Emma said quickly. “If the curse starts to happen, then strip my Marks. I can take it.”
“I don’t . . . ,” Julian began. Emma held her breath; the real Julian would never let her offer this. She had to get him to agree before Magnus took off the spell. “I don’t like the idea,” Julian said at last, looking almost puzzled, as if his own thoughts surprised him. “But if there’s no other choice, all right.”
Magnus gave Emma a long look. “I’ll take this as a binding promise,” he said after a pause. He stretched out a ringed hand. “Julian. Come here.”
Emma watched in an agony of anticipation—what if something went wrong? What if Magnus couldn’t remove the spell?—as Julian went over to the warlock and sat down on a chair facing him.
“Brace yourself,” said Magnus. “It’ll be a shock.”
He reached out and touched Julian’s temple. Julian started as a spark of light flew from Magnus’s fingers to brush against his skin; it vanished like a firefly winking out, and Julian flinched back, suddenly breathing hard.
“I know.” Julian’s hands were shaking. “I already went through it in Thule. I can—do it again.”
“It made you sick in Thule,” Emma said. “On the beach.”
Julian looked at her. And Emma’s heart leaped: In that look was everything, all of her Julian, her parabatai and best friend and first love. In it was the shining connection that had always bound them.
He smiled. A careful smile, thoughtful. In it she saw a thousand memories: of childhood and sunshine, playing in the water as it rushed up and down the beach, of Julian always saving the best and biggest seashells for her. Carefully holding her hand in his when she’d cut it on a piece of glass and was too young for an iratze. He’d cried when they stitched it up, because he knew she didn’t want to even though the pain was awful. He’d asked her for a lock of her hair when they both turned twelve, because he wanted to learn to paint the color. She remembered sitting on the beach with him when they were sixteen; the strap of her swimsuit had fallen down and she recalled the sharp hitch of his breath, the way he’d looked away quickly.
Queen of Air and Darkness (The Dark Artifices #3) Page 57
