فصل 34

34

THE CITY IN THE SEA

Kieran had been waiting in the meadow for some time now. No one ever told you, he thought, that when you became a King of a Faerie Court, you would have to wear very itchy velvet and silk nearly all the time. The boots were nice—the King had his own cobbler, who molded the leather to his feet—but he could have done without wearing a jeweled belt, heavy rings, and a doublet with five pounds of embroidery on it on a bright summer day.

A rustle in the grass announced the arrival of General Winter, who bowed deeply before Kieran. Kieran had told him many times not to do that, but Winter persisted.

“Adaon Kingson, your brother,” he announced, and stepped aside, allowing Adaon to pass him and come close to Kieran.

The two brothers regarded each other. Adaon wore the green livery of a page of the Seelie Court. It suited him. He seemed rested and calm, his dark eyes thoughtful as he gazed at Kieran. “You sought private word with me, my liege?” he said.

“Winter, turn your back,” Kieran said. In truth, he did not mind what Winter heard: He had not bothered keeping secrets from the head of his guards. It was better for a King not to have secrets if he could avoid it, in his opinion. It simply gave the tools for blackmail into enemy hands.

Winter walked a few steps away and turned his back. There was a rustle as the handful of redcap guards who had come with him did the same. Adaon raised an eyebrow, but surely he could not be surprised: The guards were good at making themselves invisible, but Kings did not stand around in meadows alone and unprotected.

“You have come all the way to the doors of an enemy Court to see me,” said Adaon. “I suppose I am complimented.” “You are the only brother I have ever trusted,” Kieran said. “And I came to ask you if you wished—if you would consider becoming King in my place.” Adaon’s eyebrows flickered like bird wings. “Do you not enjoy being King?”

“It is not to be enjoyed or not enjoyed. It does not matter. I have left Mark and Cristina, who I love, to stand as King, but I cannot bear it. I cannot live like this.” Kieran fiddled with his heavy rings. “I cannot live without them.” “And they would not survive the Court.” Adaon fingered his chin thoughtfully. “Kieran, I am not going to become King, for two reasons. One is that with you on the King’s throne and me beside the Queen, we can work toward peace between Seelie and Unseelie. The Queen hated Arawn, but she does not hate you.” “Adaon—” Kieran’s voice was raw.

“No,” Adaon said firmly. “Already I have made the Queen see the wisdom of a peace between the Lands, but if I leave her to become the King of Unseelie, she will hate me and we will return to being enemies.” Kieran took a deep breath. The meadow smelled of wildflowers, but he felt nauseated, sick and hot and despairing. How could he live without hearing Cristina’s voice again? Without seeing Mark’s face? “What was your second reason, then?” “You’ve been a good King,” Adaon said. “Though you have only held the position these past weeks, Kieran, you have already done many fine things—released prisoners, enacted a fair redistribution of land, changed the laws for the better. Our people are loyal to you.” “So if I had been an incompetent King, like Oban, I might have the life I want?” Kieran said bitterly. “A strange reward for work well done.” “I am sorry, Kieran,” Adaon said, and Kieran knew it must be true. “But there is no one else.”

At first, Kieran could not speak. Before him he saw the long days stretching away without love in them or trust. He thought of Mark laughing, wheeling Windspear around, his strong body and golden hair. He thought of Cristina dancing, smoke and flame in the night, her softness and her boundless generosity of spirit. He would not find those things again; he would not find such hearts again.

“I understand,” Kieran said remotely. This was the end, then. He would have a life of dutiful service—a life that would stretch on many years—and only the pleasure of doing good, which was not nothing, to sustain him. If only the Wild Hunt had known this would be the fate of their wildest Hunter. They would have laughed. “I must uphold my duty. I regret that I asked.” Adaon’s face softened. “I do not hold duty above love, Kieran. I must tell you—I heard from Cristina.” Kieran’s head jerked up. “What?”

“She made a suggestion that I give you my cottage. It exists in a place on the Borderlands that is in neither Faerie nor the mortal world. It would neither weaken you as the mortal world would nor would Mark and Cristina be under threat, as they would be in the Court.” Adaon laid his hand on Kieran’s silk-and-velvet shoulder. “You could be with them there.” The raw emotion he felt nearly rocked Kieran off his feet. “You would do that, Adaon? You would give me your cottage?” Adaon smiled. “Of course. What are brothers for?”

Emma was sitting on her suitcase in the hopes of trying to get it to close. She thought regretfully of all the stuff she’d already snuck into Julian’s bag. He was an organized and minimalist packer, and had had a zipped suitcase ready to go in the hallway for a week now. It was starting to look a little bulgy with the extra items she’d snuck in while he wasn’t looking—a hairbrush, a bag of ponytail holders, flip-flops, and a few extra sunglasses. And a neck pillow. You never knew when you were going to need a neck pillow, especially when you were taking your entire travel year to wander the globe.

“Are you ready to go to the party?” It was Cristina, in an airy blue dress, a daisy in her dark hair. She wrinkled up her nose. “What are you doing?” “Jumping up and down on this suitcase.” Emma stood up and kicked off her shoes. “Submit,” she said to the suitcase, and climbed on top of it. “Okay. I’m jumping.” Cristina looked horrified. “Have you never heard of a packing cube?”

“What’s a packing cube? Is it some sort of extra-dimensional space?” She started to jump up and down on the suitcase as if it were a trampoline.

Cristina leaned back against the door. “It’s good to see you so happy.”

The suitcase made a horrible sound. Emma stopped jumping. “Quick! Zip it!”

Clucking, Cristina got down on her knees and yanked the zipper closed. Emma jumped down to the floor and they both regarded the bulging suitcase, Cristina with apprehension and Emma with pride. “What are you going to do next time you have to close it?” Cristina said.

“I’m not thinking that far ahead.” Emma wondered if she should have dressed up a bit more—the party was meant to be casual, just a group of them celebrating Aline and Helen’s official ascension to heads of the Los Angeles Institute.

Or at least, that was the story.

She’d found a silk midi dress from the sixties with laces up and down the back and thought it was playful and retro, but Cristina looked so elegant and calm that Emma wondered if she should have gone more formal. She determined to find her big gold hair clip somewhere and put her hair up. She just hoped it wasn’t in her suitcase, because that was a definite No-Go Area. “Do I really seem happy?” Cristina tucked a stray lock of hair behind Emma’s ear. “More happy than I have ever seen you before,” she said, and because she was Cristina, every word she spoke shone with sincerity. “I’m so, so glad for you.” Emma flopped back onto her bed. Something poked her in the back. It was her hair clip. She seized it up with relief. “But what about you, Tina? I worry you’re not happy.” Cristina shrugged her shoulders. “I am all right. I am surviving.”

“Cristina, I love you, you’re my best friend,” Emma said. And it was easy to say now, “best friend,” because while Julian was still her best friend too, he was more than that as well and finally everyone knew it. “Surviving isn’t enough. What about being happy?” Cristina sighed and sat down next to Emma. “We will get there, Mark and I. We are happy, yet we also know that there is a greater happiness we could have had. And we worry about Kieran every day.” “Did you contact Adaon?” Emma asked.

“I did, but I have not had a reply. Perhaps it is not something Kieran wants.”

Emma frowned. She found the whole business confusing, but one thing she was certain of—there was nothing Kieran wanted more than to be with Mark and Cristina.

“Cristina!” A voice echoed faintly from outside the Institute; Emma scrambled across the bed to the window and threw it open. A second later Cristina was beside her. They both poked their heads outside to see Diego and Jaime standing on the front lawn, waving their arms energetically. “Cristina! Come down!” Cristina started to laugh, and for a moment, under her quiet sadness, Emma saw the girl she must have been in Mexico City when she was a child, tearing around with the Rosales brothers and getting into trouble.

She couldn’t help but smile. I wish I’d known you then, Tina. I hope we’ll be friends our whole lives.

But Cristina was smiling and Emma didn’t want to break her fragile good mood with wistfulness. “Come on,” she said, grabbing a pair of sandals. “Let’s go down to the beach.” * * *

With help from Ragnor and Catarina, the sandy strip of coast below the Institute had been blocked off for their private use, the area encircled by glamoured signs claiming the beach was closed due to a terrible sand crab infestation.

Magnus had also thrown up muffling spells that quieted the sounds of traffic from the highway. Emma knew he hadn’t been involved in the weather, but it was almost as if he had: a perfect day, the sky blue and deep, the waves like blue satin threaded with gold.

Shadowhunters and Downworlders dotted the beach, all up and down the curve of golden sand encircled with rocks. Alec, tall and handsome in an ivory sweater and black pants, was helping Catarina and Ragnor set up tables of food. Emma noticed that his hands shook slightly as he set out plates and chopsticks. Magnus had summoned dumplings from all over the world—Chinese jiaozi, Japanese gyoza, Polish cheese pierogi, buttery Russian pelmeni, Korean mandu. Ragnor had provided bottles of ludicrously expensive wine from his favorite Argentinian vintner, as well as French sparkling water and apple juice for the kids. Catarina had created a fountain of Swiss chocolate, which had already attracted the attention of Max and Rafe. “Sandy fingers out of the chocolate,” Magnus was telling them. “Or I’ll turn you both into sea sponges.” Cristina headed off down the beach with the Rosales brothers to catch up with Mark, who had been sitting alone on a hillock of sand, his eyes fixed on the middle distance. Emma bent to lace her sandal. When she straightened up, Julian had appeared, his jeans rolled to his knees and his bare feet sandy from playing at the water’s edge with Tavvy and Helen. He looked carefree in a way she had almost never seen him: His blue-green eyes sparkled like the sea glass at his wrist, and his smile was slow and easy as he came up to slide his arm around her waist. “You look gorgeous.” “So do you,” she said, meaning it, and he laughed and kissed her. She marveled a little—Julian, who had always been so careful, was the one who didn’t care who knew about their relationship. She knew their family understood everything, that Jem had explained it to them in Alicante. But she always worried—would others wonder how long they’d been in love, how much it overlapped with their time of being parabatai?

No one seemed to care, though, and Julian least of all. He smiled whenever he saw her, caught her up and kissed her, held her hand proudly. He even seemed to enjoy the good-natured wailing of his siblings when they happened on Julian and Emma kissing in the hallways.

It was amazing not to have to be secret, not to hide. Emma wasn’t used to it yet, but she kissed Julian back anyway, not caring who saw.

He tasted like salt and ocean. Like home. He nuzzled his chin against her forehead.

“I’m glad everyone came,” she said.

It was quite a crowd. Down at the end of the beach, Maia, Simon, and Bat were playing volleyball with Anush. The vampires hadn’t shown up yet since the sun was still out, but Lily kept texting Alec to make sure they’d be providing O negative on ice for later. Isabelle was decorating the layer cake Aline had baked with icing frills, and Marisol and Beatriz were making a sandcastle. They both wore mourning white, and seemed to share a quiet, meditative sadness. Emma hoped they would be good for each other: both had lost someone they loved.

Jace and Clary had braved the water and were splashing each other as Ragnor drifted by on a massive pool float, drinking a lemonade. Jocelyn Fairchild and Luke Garroway sat with Jia, Patrick, and Maryse some distance down the beach, and Diana and Gwyn were cuddled together on a blanket near the shoreline.

“We have a lot of allies,” Julian said.

Emma’s gaze slid down the beach toward Magnus and Alec. “This is going to be an important night,” she said. “And it’s being shared with us. That’s not about having allies. That’s about having friends. We have a lot of friends.” She figured he’d make a teasing retort; instead, his face softened.

“You’re right,” he said. “I guess we do.”

Keeping an eye on the kids had become habit. Even while playing at the tide line, digging up hermit crabs and letting them fuss up and down her hands, Dru kept a side-eye on Tavvy, Max, and Rafe. She knew they were all well looked after by a cadre of warlocks and anxious Shadowhunters, but she couldn’t help it.

“Drusilla?”

Jaime was coming down the beach toward her, just as he had when he’d come in response to Cristina’s summons. He looked healthier than he had then—less skinny, more color in his cheeks. Same wild black hair whipped by the wind, same sparkling brown eyes. He smiled down at her, and she wondered if she should have worn something more bright and pretty like the other girls. She’d been wearing black dresses everywhere for so long she barely thought about it, but maybe he’d think it was odd?

“So what’s in store for you after all this?” Jaime asked. “Are you going to go to the new Academy?” The Downworlder-Shadowhunter Alliance had come together to build a new school for Shadowhunters in an already safe and warded location—Luke Garroway’s farm in upstate New York. According to reports, it was nearly done—and according to Simon, about a thousand times nicer than the old Academy, where he’d once found rats in his sock drawer.

“Not yet,” Dru said, and she saw the quick recall and realization in his eyes: She was too young to attend the new Academy, which began at fifteen. “Maybe in a few years.” She kicked at a seashell. “Will I see you again?” He wore an expression she hadn’t seen on his face before. A sort of pained seriousness. “I don’t think that’s very likely. Cristina is leaving, so I’ve got no reason to come here any longer.” Dru’s heart sank. “I have to go back home to make things right with my father and the rest of my family. You know how it is. Family is the most important thing.” She bit back the words she wanted to say.

“But maybe I’ll see you at the Academy someday,” he added. “Do you still have that knife I gave you?” “Yes,” Dru said, a little worried. He’d said it was a gift—surely he wasn’t going to ask for it back?

“Good girl,” Jaime said. He ruffled her hair and walked away. She wanted to run after him and yank on his sleeve. Ask him to be her friend again. But not if he was going to treat her like a child, she reminded herself. She’d liked him because he acted as if she had a fully functioning brain. If he didn’t think so anymore . . .

“Dru!” It was Ty, barefoot and sandy, with a hermit crab he wanted to show her. It had a delicately spotted shell. She bent her head over his cupped hands, grateful for the distraction.

She let his voice flow around her as he turned the crab over in his careful, delicate hands. Things were different with her and Ty now. She was the only one besides Kit and Magnus who knew what had happened with his attempt to raise Livvy.

It was clear to her that Ty trusted her in a new way. That they kept each other’s secrets. She was the only one who knew that sometimes when he looked away and smiled he was smiling at Livvy’s ghost, and he was the only one who knew that she could pick a lock in under thirty seconds.

“There’s bioluminescence down at the other end of the beach,” Ty said, depositing the crab back onto the sand. It scurried for its hole. “Do you want to come see?” She could still see Jaime, who had joined Maia and Diego and was chatting animatedly. She supposed she could go over to them and try to join the conversation, try to seem more grown-up and worth talking to. But I am thirteen, she thought. I’m thirteen and I’m worth talking to without pretending I’m something I’m not. And I’m not going to bother with anyone who doesn’t see that.

She picked up her long black skirt and raced after Ty down the beach, her footsteps scattering light.

“Okay, here,” Helen said, sitting down just at the tide line. She reached up to pull Aline down beside her. “We can watch the tide go out.” Aline sat, and then scowled. “Now my butt is wet,” she said. “Nobody warned me.”

Helen thought of several saucy things to say but held back. Aline was looking especially gorgeous right now, she thought, in a skirt and flowered top, her brown shoulders bared to the sun. She wore small gold earrings in the shape of Love and Commitment runes. “You never sat on the beach on Wrangel?” she asked.

“No way. It was freezing.” Aline wiggled her bare toes in the sand. “This is much better.”

“It is much better, isn’t it?” Helen smiled at her wife, and Aline turned pink, because even after all the time they’d been together, Helen’s attention still made Aline blush and play with her hair. “We’re going to run the Institute.” “Don’t remind me. So much paperwork,” Aline grumbled.

“I thought you wanted to run the Institute!” Helen laughed.

“I think steady employment is a good idea,” said Aline. “Also we need to keep an eye on the kids so they don’t become hooligans.” “Too late, I think.” Helen gazed down the beach fondly in the direction of her siblings.

“And I think we should have a baby.”

“Really?” Helen opened her mouth. Closed it again. Opened it. “But—darling—how? Without mundane medicine—” “I don’t know, but we should ask Magnus and Alec, because it seems to me that babies just fall from the sky when they’re around. Like toddler rain.” “Aline,” Helen said in her be serious voice.

Aline tugged at her skirt. “Do you—want a baby?”

Helen scooted close to Aline, pulling her wife’s cold hands into her lap. “My love,” she said. “I do! Of course! It’s just—I still think of us in exile, a little bit. As if we’re waiting for our real life to truly start up again. I know it’s not logical. . . .” Aline lifted their joined hands and kissed Helen’s fingers. “Every single minute I’ve spent with you has been my real life,” she said. “And even on Wrangel Island, a better life than I ever had without you.” Helen felt herself starting to get teary-eyed. “A baby would be like a new sister or brother for Ty and Dru and Tavvy,” she said. “It would be so wonderful.” “If it was a girl, we could name her Eunice,” Aline said. “It was my aunt’s name.”

“We will not.”

Aline grinned impishly. “We’ll see. . . .”

When Alec came up to talk to Mark, Mark was in the middle of making balloon animals for Tavvy, Rafe, and Max. Max seemed content, but Rafe and Tavvy had grown tired of Mark’s repertoire.

“It is a manticore,” said Mark, holding up a yellow balloon.

“It’s a snake,” said Tavvy. “They’re all snakes.”

“Nonsense,” said Mark, producing a green balloon. “This is a wingless, headless dragon. And this is a crocodile sitting on its feet.” Rafe looked sad. “Why does the dragon have no head?”

“Excuse me,” Alec said, tapping Mark on the shoulder. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Oh, thank the Angel,” said Mark, dropping his balloons and scrambling to his feet. He followed Alec toward the bluffs as Magnus moved in to amuse the children. Mark overheard him telling Rafe the dragon had lost its head in a game of poker.

Mark and Alec stopped in the shadow of a bluff, not far from the tide line. Alec was wearing a lightweight sweater with a hole in the sleeve and looked calmly pleasant—surprisingly so for a Consul trying to piece together a shattered government.

“I hope this isn’t about the balloons,” said Mark. “I don’t have much training.”

“It’s not about the balloons,” said Alec. He reached around to rub the back of his neck. “I know we haven’t really had much of a chance to talk, but I’ve heard a lot about you from Helen and Aline. And I remembered you for a long time after we met you in Faerie. When you joined the Hunt.” “You told me if I went to Edom with you, I’d die,” Mark recalled.

Alec looked faintly embarrassed. “I was trying to protect you. But I thought about you a lot after that. How tough you were. And how wrong it was, the way the Clave treated you, just because you were different. I always wished you were around to join the Downworlder-Shadowhunter Alliance. Working with it has been something I’m really going to miss.” Mark was startled. “You’re not going to work with the Alliance anymore?”

“I can’t,” Alec said. “I can’t do that and be Consul—it’s too much, for anyone. I don’t know how much you’ve heard, but the government is setting itself up in New York City. Partly because of me—I can’t be too far from Magnus and the kids. And it has to be somewhere.” “You don’t need to apologize about it,” said Mark, wondering where this was all going.

“There’s so much we have to do,” said Alec. “We have connections all over the world, with every religious organization, with secret societies that know about demons. They’ll all have to decide who they tithe to—us, or the government in Alicante. We have to face that we’re going to lose at least some of our allies. That we’ll be struggling—for funds, for credibility. For so much.” Mark knew that Shadowhunters survived on the money they were given by organizations—religious, spiritual, mystic—who knew of demons and valued the guarding of the world. He’d never thought about what would happen without those funds. He didn’t envy Alec.

“I wondered if you’d want to join the Alliance,” said Alec. “Not just join it but help us head it up. You could be an ambassador to Faerie, now that the Cold Peace is being dissolved. It’s not going to be a short process. We have a lot of reconnecting to do with the fey, and we need to help them understand that the government in Idris no longer represents the majority of Shadowhunters.” He hesitated. “I know things have been crazy for your family, but you would truly be a valuable asset.” “Where would I need to live?” Mark asked. “I don’t want to be too far from my family or Cristina.” “We were going to ask Cristina to join us as well,” said Alec. “Her knowledge of faeries will be helpful, and her family’s relationship with them as well. You can both have a place in the New York Institute, and you’re welcome to Portal back to see your family whenever you want.” Mark tried to wrap his head around the idea. New York seemed far away, but then, he hadn’t paused at all to consider what he might want to do now that the crisis seemed to be over. He had no interest in anything like the Scholomance. He could remain in Los Angeles, of course, but if he did, he’d be away from Cristina. He already missed Kieran, as did she; he couldn’t bear to miss her, too. But what would his purpose be, if he followed her to Mexico? What did Mark Blackthorn want to do with his life?

“I need to think about it,” Mark said, surprising himself.

“All right,” said Alec. “Take all the time you need.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got something important I have to do.” * * *

Cristina sat with her legs tucked up under her, gazing out to sea. She knew she should join the rest of the party—her mother had always scolded her for hanging back in her room during social occasions—but something about the sea was comforting. She would miss it when she went home: the steady drumbeat of the tide, the ever-changing surface of the waves. Always the same yet always new.

If she turned her head a bit she could see Emma with Julian, Mark talking to Alec. That was enough for now.

A shadow fell across her view. “Hello, friend.”

It was Diego. He sat down beside her on the large, flat-topped rock she’d found. He looked more casual than she’d seen him in a long time, in a T-shirt and rolled-up cargo pants. The brutal, vicious scar across his face was healing quickly, as Shadowhunter scars did, but it would never fade to invisibility. He would never quite be Perfect Diego again on the outside. But he had changed so much for the better on the inside, she thought. And that was what truly mattered.

“En qué piensas?” It was the same question he’d always asked her, so common it was an inside joke between them. What are you thinking about?

“The world seems so strange to me now,” she said, gazing at her toes in their sandals. “I can’t quite fathom that Alicante is lost to us. The Shadowhunter homeland is our home no longer.” She hesitated. “Mark and I are happy to be together but also sad; Kieran being gone feels like a wedge cut out of our relationship. It’s like having Idris cut out of the world of the Shadowhunters. A piece that’s missing. We can still be happy but we won’t be whole.” It was the first time she had spoken to Diego about the odd nature of her relationship. She had wondered how he would react. He only nodded. “There is no perfect world,” he said. “What we have now is a wound, but it’s still better than the Cold Peace was, and better than the Cohort was. Very few people have the opportunity to reach out and change the injustices they see in the world, but you did, Cristina. You always wanted to end the Cold Peace, and now it’s over.” Oddly touched, she smiled at him. “Do you think that we’ll ever hear anything from Idris?”

“Ever is a long time.” He folded his arms on his knees. There had been no communication so far. Alec—the Consul—had sent a fire-message to Idris the day the Cold Peace was officially dissolved, but there had been no response. They couldn’t even be sure it had been received; the wards around Idris now were thicker and stronger than any wards seen before. The Shadowhunter homeland had become both prison and fortress. “Zara is very stubborn. It could be a long time.” Diego paused. “Alec offered me the position of Inquisitor. Of course there has to be a vote, but—” Cristina flung her arms around his wide shoulders. “Congratulations! That’s wonderful!”

But Diego didn’t look entirely happy. “I feel as if I do not deserve to be Inquisitor,” he said. “I knew the Council guards, the ones who work in the Gard, were under the sway of the Cohort. I said as much to Jaime when they came in escorting Zara and the other prisoners. But I did not raise an objection. I believed it could not be possible that I alone saw a potential problem.” “No one could have foreseen what happened,” said Cristina. “No one would have imagined that suicide gambit, and nothing else would have worked, even if they did have the guards on their side. Besides, being the Inquisitor isn’t a favor or reward. It is a service you give. It’s a way of paying back the world.” He started to smile. “I suppose so.”

She winked. “Also, I’m happy to know that if I need someone to bend the Law in my favor, I will have a powerful friend.” “I see you have learned way too much from the Blackthorns,” Diego said darkly.

A shadow passed over them—darker than a cloud, and too large to be a seagull. Drawing back from Diego, Cristina tipped her head back. A flying figure soared through the sky, shimmering white against the dark blue. It circled, and then began to descend, preparing to alight on the sand.

Cristina bolted to her feet and began to scramble down the rocks toward the beach.

The sun had dipped to touch the edge of the horizon. It was a massive glowing ball of orange and red now, illuminating the ocean with bands of metallic gold.

Julian stood at the high-water mark, a defined darker stripe on the sands. Emma was beside him, her pale gold hair escaping the clip she’d put in to hold it back; secretly, he was pleased. He loved her hair. He loved being able to stand next to her like this, to take her hand and have no one blink. In fact, nearly everyone they knew seemed so extremely fine with it that he wondered if many of them hadn’t already had suspicions.

Maybe they had. He didn’t mind.

He’d been painting again—Emma, when he could get her to sit still and be a model. He had painted her for so long in secret, the paintings his only outlet for his feelings, that painting her moving and laughing and smiling, a blur of golds and blues and ambers, was almost more than his heart could take.

He painted Ty, down by the water’s edge, and Dru looking thoughtful or scowling, and Helen and Aline together, and Mark with his eyes raised to the sky as if he were always looking for the stars.

And he painted Livvy. He painted the Livvy he had always known and loved, and sometimes he painted the Livvy in Thule who had helped heal his heart from the wound of his sister’s loss.

It would never be entirely healed. It would always hurt, as his mother’s death did, as his father’s death did. As Arthur’s death did. He would be as everyone was, especially Shadowhunters: a patchwork of love and grief, of gains and losses. The love helped you accept the grief. You had to feel it all.

He knew that now.

“Can I talk to you, Jules?”

Julian turned, still holding Emma’s hand; it was Mark. The gold light of the sun made his golden eye shine brighter; Julian knew he was still mourning Kieran’s loss, but at least now, on the beach with his family, he was smiling.

“No worries,” Emma said with a smile. She kissed Julian’s cheek and headed down the beach to talk to Clary, who was standing with Jace.

Mark shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Jules,” he said again. “Alec has offered me a job—helping run the Alliance—and I’m not sure whether I should take it. I feel like I should stay here and help Helen and Aline while you have your travel year so you don’t have to worry. You took care of everything for so long. I should be taking care of things now.” Julian felt a rush of love for his brother—if there had ever been any jealousy, it was gone. He was only glad to have Mark back.

He put his hands on his brother’s shoulders. “Take the job,” he said.

Mark looked surprised. “Take it?”

“You don’t need to worry. Things aren’t the way they were anymore,” Julian said, and for the first time, as he said the words aloud to his brother, he truly believed them. “In the past, I had to take care of things because there was no one else who could do it. But now Helen and Aline are home. They want to take care of the Institute, the kids—it’s all they wanted for years.” He dropped his voice. “You’ve always been part of two worlds. Faerie and Nephilim. This sounds like a way you can make having both a strength. So do it. I want you to be happy.” Mark pulled him into a fierce hug. Julian held his brother, with the tide crashing over both their feet, held him as tightly as he had imagined clinging to him during all the years he was away.

“Mark! Mark!”

The brothers drew away from each other; Julian turned in surprise to see Cristina racing toward them along the beach, zigzagging between the startled partygoers. Her cheeks were bright red with excitement.

She reached them and seized hold of Mark’s hand.

“Mark, mira,” she said, her voice rising with excitement. “Look!”

Julian craned his head back—everyone was, the whole party transfixed by the sight of a Faerie horse circling over them. A white horse with scarlet eyes, two gold hooves and two silver. It was Windspear, and Kieran was on his back.

The sun was setting in a final blaze as Windspear landed on the beach, sand puffing up around his hooves. Max yelled in delight at the sight of the pony, and Magnus grabbed him back hastily as Kieran leaped down from the horse’s back. He was all in dark blue, the sort of elaborate costume Julian could only barely begin to understand—there was definitely velvet and silk involved, and some kind of dark blue leather, and rings on all his fingers, and his hair, too, was dark blue. He looked ethereal and startling and a little bit alien.

He looked like a King of Faerie.

His eyes roved restlessly around the group of partygoers and locked in on Mark and Cristina. Slowly, Kieran began to smile.

“Remember,” Mark said, his hand in Cristina’s, whispering in a voice so low Julian wondered if he was supposed to hear it at all. “Remember that all of this is real.” He and Cristina began to run. Windspear took off into the air, circling happily overhead. Julian saw Emma, standing near the chocolate fountain, clasp her hands together in delight as Mark, Kieran, and Cristina threw themselves into each other’s arms.

“So,” Alec said. He and Magnus had found shelter in the lee of a large rock, its surface worn to a granular texture by years of salt and wind. Magnus, leaning against it, looked young in a way that made Alec’s heart break with a mixture of love and nostalgia. “Since I’m the Consul now, I guess I make the rules.” Magnus raised an eyebrow. In the distance, Alec could hear the sounds of the party: people laughing, music, Isabelle calling to Max and Rafe. She’d been put in charge of watching them while Alec and Magnus took a moment to themselves. Alec knew that by the time they got back, both kids would be covered in glittery eyeliner, but some sacrifices were worth the makeup remover.

“Was that flirting?” Magnus said. “Because I have to tell you I’m more in than I thought I would be.” “Yes,” said Alec. He paused. “No. A little bit.” He laid a hand over Magnus’s heart, and Magnus looked at him with thoughtful green-gold eyes, as if sensing that Alec was serious. “I mean I make all the rules. I’m in charge now.” “I told you already I was in,” Magnus said.

Alec slid his hand up to cup his boyfriend’s jaw. There was light stubble on Magnus’s skin, which Alec always loved. It made him think of the way Magnus looked when he first woke up, before the rest of the world saw him, before he put on his clothes like armor, when he was just Alec’s.

“We could get married,” he said. “In warlock blue and Shadowhunter gold. The way we always wanted.” An incredulous smile spread over Magnus’s face. “You’re really asking me . . . ?”

Alec took a deep breath and knelt down in the sand. He looked up at Magnus, watching his face go from amused to something else. Something soft and serious and tremulously vulnerable.

“I almost lost you,” Alec said. “I’ve gotten so used to thinking of you as immortal. But none of us are.” He tried to keep his hands from shaking; he was more nervous than he thought he would be. “None of us are forever. But at least I can do everything I can to let you know how much I love you with every day that we do have.” He took a deep breath. “I wish I could promise you a completely uneventful, peaceful life at my side. But I have a feeling we’ll always be surrounded by adventure and chaos.” “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” said Magnus.

“When I found you, I didn’t know what I was finding,” Alec said. “Words about things that are beautiful and precious to me don’t come easily. You know that. You know me better than anyone.” He licked his dry lips. “And when one day people look back on me and what my life meant, I don’t want them to say, ‘Alec Lightwood fought in the Dark War’ or even ‘Alec Lightwood was Consul once.’ I want them to think, ‘Alec Lightwood loved one man so much he changed the world for him.’ ” Magnus’s eyes shone bright as stars. He gazed at Alec with eyes full of joy, of a feeling so profound Alec felt humbled to be a part of it. “You know you’ve already changed the world for me.” “Will you marry me?” Alec whispered. His heart was beating like a frantic bird’s wings. “Right now? Tonight?” Magnus nodded wordlessly and pulled Alec to his feet. They wrapped their arms around each other, and Alec leaned up just that little bit, since Magnus was just that little bit taller, which he had always loved.

And they kissed for a long time.

The beach was a hive of activity. The sun had gone down, but the sky still glowed an opaline blue. Simon and Jace were setting out a wooden platform on the sand, where the view of the coastline was best. Julian and Emma were lighting candles around the platform, Clary, who had changed into a blue dress, was scattering flowers, Ragnor and Catarina were arguing while plates of delicious-looking food were summoned up to weigh down the already creaking tables. Isabelle was stuffing Max and Rafe into adorable outfits trimmed in gold and blue while Max wailed and Rafe looked resigned.

Helen and Aline were helping the younger Blackthorns place their golden runes of commitment and love, faith and grace. Cristina, runed at her wrists and throat, had volunteered to help line the beach with torches. She hummed as she worked, surrounded by Shadowhunters and Downworlders laughing together. She knew there would be difficult times coming, that the Clave-in-exile would have no simple time of it. Alec would have difficult decisions in front of him; they all would. But this one moment, these preparations, felt like a moment of happiness enclosed in a bubble, safe from the harshness of reality.

“Take this.” With a smile, Kieran pressed a torch into her hand; he had set himself to work alongside all the others as if he were not the King of the Unseelie Court. In the dusk, his hair looked as black as his clothes.

“And I have more.” Mark, barefoot and starlight-haired, placed several more torches in the sand opposite Cristina’s. As they settled, they began to burn with a dim light that would soon grow stronger: they were weaving a path of fire across the beach, to the sea.

“Kieran,” Cristina said, and he glanced at her through the torches, his expression curious. She wasn’t sure if she should ask him, but she couldn’t help it. “I sent our message to Adaon ages ago and we didn’t hear anything back. Did it take you a long time to decide what to do?” “No,” he said firmly. “Adaon did not tell me immediately that you had sent him a message. I was unaware you had contacted him. I was trying to forget the two of you—I was trying to be a good King, and to learn how to live a meaningful life without you.” A stripe of his hair turned silver-blue. “It was awful. I hated every minute of it. Finally, when I could stand it no more, I went to Adaon and asked if he would be willing to trade places with me. He refused, but that was when he offered me the cottage.” Cristina was indignant. “I can’t believe he did that! He should have gotten in touch with you right away!” Kieran smiled at her. She wondered that she had ever found anything about him harsh or distant. They moved closer to each other, a quiet group of three among the fire and the laughter, their heads bent together.

“Will it really work?” Mark looked troubled. He reached over to brush sand from Kieran’s velvet sleeve. “Is there really a place we can be together?” Kieran produced a key from a chain around his throat—it looked ancient, blackened with age, a brassy silver. “The cottage is ours now. It will give us a place where there are no kings, no queens, no mortals or faeries. Just the three of us together. It won’t be all the time, but it will be enough.” “For now I will take any time with the two of you that I can have,” Cristina said, and Kieran leaned in to kiss her softly. When he drew back, Mark was smiling at them both.

“Cristina and I will be very busy, I think,” he said. “Between our families in different Institutes and our work with the Alliance. And you too will be busy with your new kingdom. The time we spend together will be precious indeed.” Cristina patted her pocket. “Diego and Jaime both said they’d be grateful if I’d keep watch over the Eternidad. So all you need to do is send us a message, Kieran, and we will come to you.” Kieran looked thoughtful. “Will you bring me one of those cat calendars of which I have grown fond? I would like to decorate the cottage.” “There are actually other kinds of calendars. Ones with otters and rabbits and puppies,” Mark said, grinning.

Looking beatific, Kieran tipped his head back to see the stars. “This is truly a land of marvels.” Cristina gazed at them both, her heart so full of love it hurt. “It truly is.”

When Alec and Magnus returned to the beach, it had been transfigured.

“You planned this?” Magnus said, looking around in wonder. He’d had no idea—none at all, but it was unmistakeable. Magnus and Alec had lain awake so many nights in their apartment in Brooklyn, as the ceiling fan spun slowly overhead, and whispered their thoughts and plans for that far-off day when they would make their promises in gold and blue. They had both known what they wanted.

Their friends had worked quickly. The Shadowhunters had donned wedding runes, proclaiming their witness to a ceremony of love and commitment. The Downworlders had tied silk strips of cobalt blue around their left wrists, as guests at warlock weddings ceremonially did. It had been so long, Magnus thought, since he had attended a wedding for one of his own. He had never thought it would happen for him.

Glimmering torches, their flames untouched by the wind, described pathways on the beach, leading to a wooden platform that had been placed in view of the sea. Magnus had grown up able to see the ocean, and he had once—only once—mentioned to Alec that he would like to be married within the sound of its waves. His heart felt as if it were being crushed into a thousand joyous pieces now, since Alec had remembered.

“I’m just glad you said yes,” said Alec. “I’d hate to have to explain to everyone that they have to put the decorations away. And I already told the kids I had a surprise for you.” Magnus couldn’t help himself; he kissed Alec on the cheek. “You still surprise me every day, Alexander,” he said. “You and your damn poker face.” Alec laughed. As their friends waved them forward eagerly, Magnus could hear their greetings and cheers, carried on the wind. Runes shimmered gold under the torchlight, and deep blue cobalt silk rustled in the wind.

Jace stepped forward first, in a gear jacket printed with golden runes, and held out a hand to Alec.

“I stand as suggenes to Alexander Lightwood,” he said with pride.

Magnus felt about Jace the way he had felt about many Shadowhunters over the years, Fairchilds and Herondales and Carstairs and others: fondness and faint exasperation. But in moments like this, when Jace’s love for Alec shone true and untrammeled, he felt only gratitude and affection.

Alec took Jace’s hand and they began to walk the pathway of light. Magnus made to follow them, warlocks having no tradition of suggenes—a companion to the altar—but Catarina stepped forward, smiling, and took his arm. “I fought our mutual green frenemy for the privilege of escorting you,” she said, indicating a fulminating Ragnor with a tilt of her head. “Come on, now—you don’t think I’d let you approach the altar alone? What if you got cold feet and ran off?” Magnus chuckled as they passed by familiar faces: Maia and Bat, Lily wearing a tipsy crown of flowers, Helen and Aline whistling and clapping. Helen had a blue band around her wrist as well as gold runes on her clothes; so did Mark. “My feet have never been warmer,” Magnus said. “They’re positively toasty.” She smiled at him. “No doubts?”

They had reached the end of the lighted path. Alec stood waiting, Jace beside him on the platform. Behind them was the ocean, stretching out silvery-blue as Magnus’s magic, all the way to the horizon. Their closest friends ringed the platform—Clary with her arms full of blue and yellow flowers, Isabelle carrying Max and sniffling back tears, Simon alight and smiling, Maryse with Rafe by her side: he looked solemn, as if aware of the significance of the occasion. Jia Penhallow stood where a priest would stand in a mundane ceremony, the Codex in her hand. They had all donned shawls or light jackets of silk, runed in gold; silk banners hung suspended in the sky, printed with runes of love and faith, commitment and family.

Magnus glanced down at Catarina. “No doubts,” he said.

She squeezed his hand and went to stand beside Jia. There was a second ring around the platform: The Blackthorns and their friends were all there, clustered in close. Julian smiled his slow quiet smile at Magnus; Emma glowed with happiness as Magnus crossed the wooden platform and took his place opposite Alec.

Alec held his hands out, and Magnus took them. He looked into Alec’s blue eyes, the precise color of his own magic, and felt a great calm descend over him, a peace beyond all other peace he had ever known.

No doubts. Magnus didn’t need to search his soul. He’d searched it a thousand times, ten thousand, in the years he’d known Alec. Not because he doubted, but because it shocked him so much that he didn’t. In all his life, he had never known such surety. He had lived happily and had no regrets, he had made poetry out of wondering and wandering, had lived untethered and gloried in freedom.

Then Magnus had met Alec. He had felt drawn to him in a way he couldn’t have explained or anticipated: He had wanted to see Alec smile, to see him be happy. He had watched Alec turn from a shy boy with secrets to a proud man who faced the world openly and unafraid. Alec had given him the gift of faith, a faith that Magnus was strong enough to make not just Alec happy, but a whole family happy. And in their happiness, Magnus had felt himself not just free, but surrounded by an unimaginable glory.

Some might have called it the presence of God.

Magnus just thought of it as Alexander Gideon Lightwood.

“Let us begin,” Jia said.

Emma had risen to her tiptoes in excitement. They had all known that there was going to be a surprise wedding on the beach—a surprise to Magnus, at any rate. If Alec had been nervous, he’d done a good job of mostly hiding it. No one else had thought Magnus might say no, but Emma remembered the slight tremble of Alec’s hands earlier, and her heart bubbled with happiness that it had all worked out.

Jace stepped forward to help Alec into a dark blue gear jacket printed with golden runes, while Catarina draped a cobalt-and-gilt silk jacket around Magnus’s shoulders.

They both moved back, and a hush fell over the crowd as Jia spoke.

“Through the centuries,” she said, “there have been few unions between Shadowhunters and Downworlders that have been recognized as such. But a new age has dawned, and with a new age come new traditions. Tonight, as Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood blend their lives and hearts, we stand ready to recognize this union. To witness a true bond between two souls who have cleaved to each other.” She cleared her throat. She looked a bit drawn, as she had in the Council Hall, but much less tired. There was delight and pride in her face as she gazed around the gathered group. “Alexander Gideon Lightwood. Hast thou found the one thy soul loves?” It was a question asked at every wedding: part of the Shadowhunter ceremony for a thousand years. The crowd hushed, the hush of holiness, of sacred ritual observed and shared. Emma couldn’t help but reach out to hold Julian’s hand; he drew her against his side. There was something about the way Magnus and Alec looked at each other. Emma had thought they would be smiling, but they were both serious: They looked at each other as if the other person were as brilliant as a full moon that could blot out every star.

“I have found him,” Alec said. “And I will not let him go.”

“Magnus Bane,” said Jia, and Emma could not help but wonder if this was only the second time in history that this question had been asked of a warlock. “Hast thou gone among the watchmen, and in the cities of the world? Hast thou found the one thy soul loves?” “I have found him,” Magnus said, gazing at Alec. “And I will not let him go.”

Jia inclined her head. “Now it is time for the exchanging of runes.”

This was the moment when, in a traditional ceremony, Shadowhunters would Mark each other with wedding runes and speak the words of the vows. But Magnus could not bear runes. They would burn his skin. Puzzled, Emma watched as Jia pressed something that flashed gold into Alec’s hand.

Alec moved closer to Magnus and Emma saw that it was a golden brooch in the shape of the Wedded Union rune. As Alec moved toward Magnus, he spoke the words of the Nephilim vows: “Love flashes out like fire, the brightest kind of flame Many waters cannot quench love, nor can the floods drown it.” He pinned the brooch over Magnus’s heart, his blue eyes never leaving Magnus’s face. “Now place me as a seal over thine heart, as a seal over thine arm: For love is strong as death. And so we are bound: stronger than flame, stronger than water, stronger than death itself.” Magnus, his gaze fixed on Alec’s, laid his hand over the brooch. It was his turn now: Alec drew aside his jacket and rolled up his sleeve, baring his upper arm. He placed a stele in Magnus’s hand and clasped Magnus’s fingers within his own. With their hands entwined, Alec traced the shape of the Wedded Union rune onto his own arm. Emma assumed the second rune, the one over his heart, would be added later, in private, as it usually was.

When they were done, the rune stood out stark and black on Alec’s skin. It would never fade. It would never leave him, a sign of his love for Magnus for all time. Emma felt an ache deep down in her soul, where unspoken hopes and dreams lived. To have what Magnus and Alec had—anyone would be lucky.

Slowly Magnus lowered his hand, still clasped in Alec’s. He gazed at the rune on Alec’s arm in a sort of daze, and Alec looked back at him, as if neither of them could look away.

“The rings now,” said Jia, and Alec seemed to start out of a dream. Jace stepped forward and put one ring into Alec’s hand, and another into Magnus’s, and said something quietly to both of them that made them laugh. Simon was rubbing Isabelle’s back as she sniffled even more loudly, and Clary was smiling into her flowers.

Emma was glad of her Night Vision rune. With it, she could see that the rings were Lightwood family rings, etched with the traditional design of flames on the outside, and with words inscribed on the inside.

“Aku cinta kamu,” Magnus read out, gazing at the interior of the ring, and he smiled at Alec, a brilliant, world-spanning smile. “My love for yours, my heart for yours, my soul for yours, Alexander. Now and for all time.” Catarina smiled at what must have been familiar words. Magnus and Alec slid the rings onto each other’s fingers, and Jia closed her book.

“Alexander Lightwood-Bane. Magnus Lightwood-Bane. You are now married,” she said. “Let us rejoice.” The two men folded into each other’s arms, and a great cheer went up: Everyone was shouting, and hugging, and dancing, and the sky overhead burst into golden light as Ragnor, finally over his temper tantrum, began to fill the air with fireworks that exploded in the shapes of wedding runes. In the center of it all, Magnus and Alec held each other tightly, rings gleaming on their fingers like the slivers of a new sun breaking over the horizon.

The wedding ceremony had broken up into a party, ebullient guests crowding up and down the beach. Ragnor had magicked up a piano from somewhere and Jace was playing, his jacket slung over his shoulder like an old-time blues musician. Clary sat on the piano’s soundboard, tossing flowers into the air. Dancers spun barefoot in the sand, Shadowhunters and Downworlders lost in the music. Magnus and Alec danced close together, their children between them, a happy family tangle.

Diana and Gwyn sat some distance away. Gwyn had put down his cloak for Diana to sit on. She was touched by the gesture: The cloak of the Wild Hunt’s leader was a powerful item, but he didn’t seem to think twice about using it as a beach blanket.

Diana felt ebullient, light with happiness. She touched Gwyn on the wrist and he smiled at her.

“It is good to see so many happy. They deserve it,” he said. “Not just Magnus and Alec, but Mark and Kieran and Cristina as well.” “And Emma and Julian. I always wondered . . .” Diana trailed off. In hindsight, of course, their love seemed perfectly clear.

“I assumed it,” said Gwyn. “They looked at each other as I look at you.” He cocked his head to the side. “I am glad they are happy now. All true hearts deserve such.” “And what of the leader of the Hunt? What of his happiness?” said Diana.

He moved closer to her. The wind from the ocean was cool, and he drew her shawl closer about her throat to keep her warm. “Your happiness is my own,” he said. “You seem pensive. Will you tell me your mind?” She dug her fingers into the cool sand. “I was so worried for so long,” she said. “I kept it all secret—being transgender, using mundane medicine—because I was afraid. But now I’ve told everyone. Everyone knows, and nothing terrible happened.” She smiled a bittersweet smile. “Our whole world has been turned upside down, and my secret now seems like such a small thing.” Two days after they returned from Idris, Diana had gathered the inhabitants of the Los Angeles Institute and told her story to everyone who mattered to her. She had made it clear that it was no secret from the Consul. She had already talked to Alec, who had readily admitted he knew less than he thought he should about transgender Shadowhunters (or mundanes, for that matter) but was eager to learn.

She had done everything right, Alec had said; she had kept their secrets from the mundane doctors, she had brought no risk to Shadowhunters. He was only sorry she had ever lived in fear, as he once had himself. “But no longer,” he had said, his conviction audible. “The Clave has always attended to the strength of Shadowhunters but not to their happiness. If we can change that . . .” She had promised she would work with him. The Blackthorns had responded to her story with love and sympathy, and as for everyone else—they could find out or not. She owed nothing to anyone.

“You’re smiling,” Gwyn observed.

“I had two secrets. Now I have none. I am free as the wind,” Diana said.

He took her face in his big hands. “My lady, my love,” he said. “We will ride the wind together.” * * *

The music of the piano had been joined by the music of the flute, played—surprisingly enough—by Kieran. He wasn’t half-bad, Julian thought, as Simon joined the two of them, carrying his guitar. Maybe all three of them could start the world’s strangest band.

Emma and Cristina were dancing together, both laughing so hard they kept doubling over. Julian didn’t want to interrupt them: He knew their time together was precious before he and Emma left. He let himself watch Emma for just a moment—she was lovely in the argent light of the torches, her hair and skin gleaming gold like wedding runes—before he made his way around the dancers, down to the wet sand where the incoming waves lapped the shoreline.

Ty and Dru stood close together there, Ty leaning in to explain to his younger sister what made the waves sparkle and glow. “Bioluminescence,” he was saying. “Tiny living animals in the ocean. They glow, like underwater fireflies.” Dru peered doubtfully into the water. “I don’t see any animals.”

“They’re microscopic,” Ty said. He scooped up a handful of seawater; it shone in his hands, as if he were holding a spill of shimmering diamonds. “You can’t see them. You can only see the light they make.” “I wanted to talk to you, Ty,” Julian said.

Ty looked up, his gaze fixed on a point just to the left of Julian’s face. Livvy’s locket glittered around his throat. He was starting to look older, Julian thought with a pang. The last of the childish roundness was gone from his face, his hands.

Dru gave them both a salute. “You guys talk. I’m going to see if Lily will teach me the Charleston.” She skipped off down the beach, scattering luminous sparks.

“Are you sure you’re all right with me leaving?” Julian said. “Emma and I, we don’t have to go.” Ty knew, of course, that Julian was going on his travel year. It was no secret. But Ty was the most change-averse member of the family, and Julian couldn’t help worrying.

Ty glanced over toward Magnus and Alec, who were swinging Max between them while he gurgled with laughter. “I want to go to the Scholomance,” Ty said abruptly.

Julian started. It was true they were starting the Scholomance back up, with new instructors and new classes. It wouldn’t be like it was. But still. “The Scholomance? But wouldn’t the Academy be better? You’re only fifteen.” “I always wanted to be able to solve mysteries,” said Ty. “But people who solve mysteries, they know a lot of things. The Academy won’t teach me the things I want to know, but the Scholomance will let me pick what I learn. It’s the best place for me. If I can’t be Livvy’s parabatai, this is what I should be.” Julian tried to think of what to say. Ty wasn’t the child that Julian had been so desperate to protect. He had survived the death of his sister, he had survived an enormous battle. He had fought the Riders of Mannan. For all Ty’s life, Julian had tried to help him master all the skills he would need to lead a happy life. He’d known that eventually he’d need to let him go so he could live it.

He just hadn’t realized that that moment would come soon.

Julian put his hand flat on Ty’s chest. “All the way down in your heart, this is what you want?” “Yes. This is what I want. Ragnor Fell will be teaching there, and Catarina Loss. I’ll come home all the time. You’ve made me strong enough that I can do this, Julian.” He put his hand over his brother’s. “After everything that’s happened, it’s what I deserve.” “As long as you know home is always waiting for you,” said Julian.

Ty’s eyes were gray as the ocean. “I know.”

The sky was full of sparks—gold and blue and purple, glimmering like ardent fireflies as the wedding fireworks died away. They floated up from the beach to reach the level of the bluffs where Kit stood with Jem and Tessa on either side of him.

It was a scene both familiar and unfamiliar. He had begged for this: a quick stop via Portal to see the Los Angeles Institute one last time. He’d wondered how it would be; he was surprised to realize he felt as if he could have easily walked into the wedding party and taken his place with Julian and Emma and Cristina and the rest. Dru would have welcomed him. They all would.

But he didn’t belong there. Not after what had happened. The thought of seeing Ty at all hurt much too much.

Not that he couldn’t see him. He could see all of them: Dru in her black dress dancing with Simon, and Mark and Cristina chatting with Jaime, and Kieran teaching Diego some kind of awkward faerie dance, and Emma with her hair like a waterfall of amber light, and Julian starting to walk up the beach toward her. They were always going toward each other, those two, like magnets. He’d heard from Jem that they were dating now, and since he’d never really understood the hazy “parabatai can’t date” thing anyway, he wished them well. He could see Aline and Helen too, Aline holding a bottle of champagne and laughing, Helen hugging Tavvy and swinging him around. He could see Diana with Gwyn, the Wild Hunt leader with a big arm thrown protectively around his lady. He could see Alec lying in the sand beside Jace, deep in conversation, and Clary talking to Isabelle, and Magnus dancing with his two sons in the moonlight.

He could see them all, and of course he could see Ty.

Ty stood at the water’s edge. He wouldn’t have wanted to be close to the noise and the lights and shouting, and Kit hated that even now he wanted to go down to the beach and draw Ty away, to protect him from anything and everything that might upset him. He didn’t look upset, though. He was facing the glittering waves. Anybody else would have thought he was splashing around in the bioluminescence by himself, but Kit could see that he wasn’t alone.

A girl in a long white dress, with Blackthorn-brown hair, floated barefoot above the water. She was dancing, invisible to anyone but Ty—and Kit, who saw even what he didn’t want to see.

Ty threw something into the ocean—his phone, Kit thought. Getting rid of the Black Volume and its images forever. At least that was something. Kit watched as Ty waded out a little bit, tipping his head back, smiling up at the Livvy only he could see.

Remember him like this, Kit thought, happy and smiling. His hand crept up to touch the faded white scar on his left arm where Ty had drawn that Talent rune what felt like so long ago.

Jem put his hand on Kit’s shoulder. Tessa was looking at him with deep sympathy, as if she understood more than he’d guessed.

“We should go,” Jem said, his voice gentle as always. “It does no one any good to look backward for too long and forget that the future lies ahead.” Kit turned away to follow them both into his new life.

Dawn was starting to break.

The wedding party had lasted all night. Though many of the guests had staggered off to sleep in the Institute (or were carried off, protesting, by their parents and older siblings), a few still remained, huddled up on blankets, watching the sun rise behind the mountains.

Emma couldn’t remember a better celebration. She was curled up on a striped blanket with Julian, in the shelter of a tumble of rocks. The sand under them was cool, silvered by the dawn light, and the water had just begun to dance with golden sparks. She leaned back against Julian’s chest, his arms around her.

His hand moved gently up her arm, fingers dancing against her skin. W-H-A-T A-R-E Y-O-U T-H-I-N-K-I-N-G A-B-O-U-T?

“Just that I’m happy for Magnus and Alec,” she said. “They’re so happy, and I feel like one day—we could be happy like that too.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Of course we will be.”

His complete confidence spread warmth through her, like a comforting blanket. She glanced up at him.

“Remember when you were under the spell?” she said. “And I asked you why I took down all that stuff in my closet, about my parents. And you said it was because I knew who’d killed them now, and he was dead. Because I got revenge.” “And I was wrong,” he said.

She took one of his hands in hers. It was a hand as familiar to her as her own—she knew every scar, every callus; she rejoiced in every splash of paint. “Do you know now?” “You did it to honor your parents,” he said. “To show them you’d let go of it all, that you weren’t going to let revenge control your life. Because they wouldn’t have wanted that for you.” She kissed his fingers. He shivered, drew her closer. “That’s right.” She looked up at him. Dawn light turned his wind-tangled hair to a halo. “I do keep worrying,” she said. “Maybe I shouldn’t have let Zara go. Maybe Jia and the Council should have arrested every Cohort sympathizer, like Balogh, not just the ones who fought. People like him are the reason things turned out the way they did.” Julian was watching the ocean as it slowly lightened. “We can only arrest people for what they do, not what they think,” he said. “Any other way of doing things makes us like the Dearborns. And we’re better off with what we have now than we would be if we’d become like them. Besides,” he added, “every choice has a long afterlife of consequences. No one can know the eventual outcome of any decision. All you can do is make the best choice you can make in the moment.” She let her head fall back against his shoulder. “Do you remember when we used to come down here when we were kids? And make sandcastles?” He nodded.

“When you were gone earlier this summer, I came here all the time,” she said. “I thought about you, how much I missed you.” “Did you think sexy thoughts?” Julian grinned at her, and she swatted his arm. “Never mind, I know you did.” “Why do I ever tell you anything?” she complained, but they were both smiling at each other in a goofy way she was sure any bystander would have found intolerable.

“Because you love me,” he said.

“True,” she agreed. “Even more now than I used to.”

His arms tightened around her. She looked up at him; his face was tight, as if with pain.

“What is it?” she said, puzzled; she hadn’t meant to say anything that would hurt him.

“Just the thought,” he said, his voice low and rough, “of being able to talk about this, with you. It’s a freedom I never imagined we would ever have, that I would ever have. I always thought what I wanted was impossible. That the best I could hope for was a life of silent despair as your friend, that at least I would be able to be somewhere near you while you lived your life and I became less and less a part of it—” “Julian.” There was pain in his eyes, and even if it was a remembered pain, she hated to see it. “That would never have happened. I always loved you. Even when I didn’t know it, I loved you. Even when you didn’t feel anything, even when you weren’t you, I remembered the real you and I loved you.” She managed to turn around, slide her arms around his neck. “And I love you so much more now.” She leaned up to kiss him, and his hands slid into her hair: She knew he loved to touch her hair, just as he had always loved to paint it. He drew her into his lap, stroking her back. His sea-glass bracelet was cool against her bare skin as their mouths met slowly; Julian’s mouth was soft and tasted of salt and sunshine. She hovered in the kiss, in the timeless pleasure of it, in knowing it wasn’t the last but was one of the first, sealing the promise of a love that would last down the years of their lives.

They came out of the embrace reluctantly, like divers unwilling to leave the beauty of the underwater world behind. The circle of each other’s arms, their own private city in the sea. “Why did you say that?” he whispered breathlessly, nuzzling the hair at her temple. “That you love me more now?” “You’ve always felt everything so intensely,” she said after a moment’s pause. “And that was something I did love about you. How much you loved your family, how you would do anything for them. But you kept your heart closed off. You didn’t trust anyone, and I don’t blame you—you took everything on yourself, and you kept so many secrets, because you thought you had to. But when you opened up the Institute for the war council, you made yourself trust other people to help you execute a plan. You didn’t hide; you let yourself be open to being hurt or betrayed so you could lead them. And when you came to me in the Silent City and you stopped me breaking the rune—” Her voice shook. “You told me to trust not just you but in the intrinsic goodness of the world. That was my worst point, my darkest point, and you were there, despite everything, with your heart open. You were there to bring me home.” He laid his fingers against the bare skin of her arm, where her parabatai rune had once been. “You brought me back too,” he said with a sort of awe. “I’ve loved you all my life, Emma. And when I felt nothing, I realized—without that love, I was nothing. You’re the reason I wanted to break out of the cage. You made me understand that love creates far more joy than any pain it causes.” He tipped his head back to look up at her, his blue-green eyes shining. “I’ve loved my family since the day I was born and I always will. But you’re the love I chose, Emma. Out of everyone in the world, out of everyone I’ve ever known, I chose you. I’ve always had faith in that choice. At the edge of everything, love and faith have always brought me back, and back to you.” At the edge of everything, love and faith have always brought me back. Emma didn’t have to ask; she knew what he was thinking about: their friends and family lined up before them on the Imperishable Fields, the love that had brought them back from a curse so strong the whole of the Shadowhunter world had feared it.

She placed her hand over his heart, and for a moment they sat in silence, their hands remembering where their parabatai runes had once been. They were bidding good-bye, Emma thought, to what they had been: Everything from this moment on would be new.

They would never forget what had gone before. The banner of Livia’s Watch flew even now from the roof of the Institute. They would remember their parents, and Arthur and Livvy, and all they had lost, but they would step into the world the new Clave was building with hope and remembrance mixed together, because though the Seelie Queen was a liar, every liar was truthful sometimes. She had been right about one thing: Without sorrow, there can be no joy.

They lowered their hands, their gazes locked. The sun was rising over the mountains, painting the sky like one of Julian’s canvases in royal purple and bloody gold. It was dawn in more than one sense: They would step into the world’s day from this moment onward without being afraid. This would be the true beginning of a new life that they would face together, in all their human frailty and imperfections. And if ever one of them feared the bad in themselves, as all people did sometimes, they had the other to remind them of the good.