“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.