Cristina jumped to her feet and ran to hug Emma. Livvy came barreling into the room, Ty following more quietly after, and Julian lowered Tavvy to the ground—where he remained by Julian’s side, gripping his leg—while he greeted the rest of his family in a blur of hugs and exclamations.

Emma was hugging the twins, a sight that sent a dart of familiar pain through Julian’s rib cage. The dread of separation, of pulling apart what belonged together: the dream of his family, Emma as his partner, the children their responsibility.

A hand touched his shoulder, jolting him out of imagination. It was Mark, who looked at him with uneasiness. “Jules?”

Of course. Mark didn’t realize Julian knew the truth about him and Emma. He looked worried, hopeful, like a puppy who had come begging for scraps but half-expected to be slapped away from the table.

Was I that bad? Julian wondered, guilt spearing through him. Mark hadn’t even known, hadn’t imagined Julian loving Emma. Had been horrified when he found out. Mark and Emma loved each other, but not romantically, which was what Julian would have wanted. His heart swelled with tenderness toward both of them for everything they had given up to protect him, for being willing to let him hate them if that was what it took.

He drew Mark with him into a corner of the room. The hubbub of greeting went on all around them as Julian lowered his voice. “I know what you did,” he said. “I know you were never really dating Emma. I’m grateful. I know it was for me.”

Mark looked surprised. “It was Emma’s idea,” he said.

“Oh, believe me, I know.” Julian put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “And you did a good job with the kids. Magnus told me. Thank you.”

Mark’s face lit up. It made Julian’s heart ache even harder. “I didn’t— I mean, they got in so much trouble—”

“You loved them and you kept them alive,” said Julian. “Sometimes that’s the best anyone can do.”

Julian pulled his brother toward him into a hard hug. Mark made a muffled noise of surprise before his own arms went around Julian, half-crushing the breath out of him. Julian could feel his brother’s heart hammering against his, as if the same relief and joy were beating through their shared blood.

They drew apart after a moment. “So you and Emma . . . ?” Mark began, half-hesitantly. But before Julian could reply, Livvy had thrown herself at them, somehow managing to hug Julian and Mark at the same time, and the conversation vanished into laughter.

Ty came more diffidently after her, smiling and touching Julian on the shoulder and then the hand as if to make sure he was really there. Tactile expression sometimes meant as much to Ty as what he could observe with his eyes.

Mark was telling Emma that Dru was still in her room, but she’d be coming shortly. Magnus had gone to Alec, and the two were talking quietly by the fireplace. Only Kieran remained where he was, so silent and still at the table that he could have been a decorative plant. The sight of him flicked a memory in Julian’s mind, though, and he looked around for blond hair and a sarcastic expression. “Where’s Kit?”

A flood of cross-explanations followed: the story of the Riders at the riverside, the way Gwyn and Diana had saved them, Kit’s injury. Emma described the four Riders they’d encountered in Cornwall, though it was Julian who detailed the way Emma had killed one of them, which prompted a great deal of exclaiming.

“I’ve never heard of anyone killing a Rider before,” said Cristina, hurrying to the table to pick up a book. “But someone must have.”

“No.” It was Kieran, his voice even and quiet. There was something in the timbre of it that reminded Julian of the Unseelie King’s voice. “No one ever has. There have only ever been seven, the children of Mannan, and they have lived almost since the beginning of time. There must be something very special about you, Emma Carstairs.”

Emma flushed. “There isn’t.”

Kieran was still looking at Emma curiously. He was wearing jeans and a cream-colored sweater. He looked alarmingly human, until you really examined his face and the uncanniness of his bone structure. “What was it like to kill something so old?”

Emma hesitated. “It was like—have you ever held ice so long in your hand that the coldness hurt your skin?”

After a pause, Kieran nodded. “It is a deathly pain.”

“It was like that.”

“So we’re safe here,” Julian said to Magnus, partly to forestall any further questions about the dead Rider. “In the Institute.”

“The Riders can’t reach us here. They are warded away,” said Magnus.

“But Gwyn was able to land on the roof,” Emma said. “So Fair Folk can’t be completely shut out—”

“Gwyn is Wild Hunt. They’re different.” Magnus reached down to pick up Max, who giggled and pulled on his scarf. “Also I’ve doubled the wards around the Institute since this afternoon.”

“Where’s Diana?” asked Julian.

“She went back to Idris. She says she has to keep Jia and the Council happy and calm and expecting this meeting to take place with no hiccups.”

“But we don’t have the Black Volume,” Julian said.

“Well, we still have a day and a half,” said Emma. “To find Annabel.”

“Without leaving these hallowed walls?” Mark said. He sat down on the arm of one of the chairs. “We are kind of trapped.”

“I don’t know if the Riders realize Alec and I are here,” Magnus said. “Or perhaps we could prevail on Gwyn.”

“The danger seems pretty severe,” said Emma. “We wouldn’t feel right, asking for that kind of help.”

“Well I’m going back to Idris with the kids—I can certainly see what I can do from there.” Alec flung himself down in a chair near Rafe and ruffled the boy’s dark hair.

Maybe Alec could get into Blackthorn Manor, Julian thought. He was exhausted, nerves frayed from one of the best and worst days of his life. But Blackthorn Manor was probably the place on earth Annabel had loved the most. His mind began to tick over the possibilities.

“Annabel cared about Blackthorn Manor,” he said. “Not Blackthorn Hall, here in London—the family didn’t own that yet. The one in Idris. She loved it.”

“So you think she might be there?” said Magnus.

“No,” said Julian. “She hates the Clave, hates Shadowhunters. She’d be too afraid to go to Idris. I was just thinking that if it was in danger, if it was threatened, she might be called out of where she’s hiding.”

He could tell Emma was wondering why he wasn’t mentioning that he’d seen Annabel in Cornwall; he wondered it a bit himself, but his instincts told him to keep it secret a little longer.

“You’re suggesting we burn down Blackthorn Manor?” said Ty, his eyebrows up around his hairline.

“Oddly,” Magnus muttered, “you wouldn’t be the first people ever to have that idea.”

“Ty, don’t sound so excited,” Livvy said.

“Pyromania interests me,” said Ty.

“I think you have to burn down several buildings before you can consider yourself to be an actual maniac for pyro,” Emma said. “I think before that you’re just an enthusiast.”

“I think setting a large fire in Idris will attract attention we don’t want,” said Mark.

“I think we don’t have a lot of choices,” said Julian.

“And I think we should eat,” Livvy said hastily, patting her stomach. “I’m starving.”

“We can discuss what we know, especially regarding Annabel and the Black Volume,” said Ty. “We can pool our information.”

Magnus glanced fleetingly at Alec. “After we eat we need to send the children to Idris. Diana’s standing by on the other side to help us keep the Portal open, and I don’t want her to have to wait too long.”

It was kind of him, Julian thought, to phrase it as if sending the children to Alicante was a favor Magnus was doing Diana, rather than a precaution taken to protect them. Tavvy skipped along with Rafe and Max to the dining room and Julian felt a pang, realizing how much his little brother had missed having friends close to his own age, even if he hadn’t known it.

“Jules?” He glanced down and saw that Dru was walking beside him. Her face was pale in the corridor’s witchlight.