Rocks and sand crunched: Dru looked up and saw Julian standing over her, silhouetted by the sun. “Hey, kiddo,” he said.

“What’s going on with the Iron Sisters and Silent Brothers?” said Dru. “Are they on our side?”

“The Iron Sisters have already rejected the Cohort,” said Julian. “They’re backing us up. Sister Emilia even had a good idea about the Mortal Sword. The Silent Brothers are—well, not neutral. They don’t like the Cohort either. But any defection on their part will be more obvious and might tip our hand. They’re going to station themselves in Alicante to keep an eye on things and prevent the Cohort from getting suspicious.”

This was one of the things Dru loved about Julian. He didn’t talk down to her, not even about strategy.

“Speaking of Alicante,” she said. “It’s time for us to go, huh?”

She’d known this was coming. Julian had told her about it before the meeting. She’d thought she’d be all right with it, considering that she wanted to get into Alicante, and this was pretty much the only way it was going to happen.

Not that Julian knew that. She screwed her face into a woeful expression. “I don’t see why you have to leave us behind.”

“I’m not leaving you behind,” Julian said. “I’m sending you ahead. You are part of Livia’s Watch. Don’t forget it.”

Dru continued to scowl. Tavvy was still playing with his car, but he was also watching them out of the corner of his eye. “Semantics are nobody’s friend.”

Julian knelt down in front of her. Dru was surprised; she wouldn’t have thought he’d want to get his knees dirty when he was wearing nice clothes, but apparently he didn’t care.

“Dru,” he said. “I can’t leave you here. It isn’t safe. And I can’t take you where we’re going. There could be a battle. A big one.”

“I can fight,” Dru said.

Julian put his fingers under her chin and lifted her face so that she was looking directly at him. She wondered if this was what it was like for most kids to look at their parents. This was the face she associated with praise and scoldings, with late-night nightmare assistance and hot chocolate when it was needed and Band-Aids when those were called for. Julian had held her hand through the application of her first Marks. He was the one who stuck her terrible drawings to the fridge with magnets. He never forgot a birthday.

And he was still a kid himself. It was the first time she’d been able to look at him and see it. He was young, younger than Jace and Clary or Alec and Magnus. And yet he’d stood up in front of that Sanctuary full of people and told them what they were going to do, and they’d listened.

“I know you can fight,” he said. “But if I think you’re in danger, I don’t know if I can.”

“What about Kit and Ty?”

He grinned at her. “Don’t tell them, but Magnus promised to make sure they don’t get near the actual battle.”

Dru gave a reluctant smile. “It’s going to suck not knowing if you guys are okay.”

“We’ll all be wearing Familias runes,” said Julian. “Tavvy, too. So that’s something. If you need to know how one of us is, activate yours.” His eyes darkened. “Dru, you know I’d protect you to my last breath, right? I’d give my last drop of blood for you. So would Emma.”

“I know,” Dru said. “I love you, too.”

He pulled her into a quick hug, then stood up and offered his hand. She let him pull her to her feet and dusted herself off as he picked up Tavvy. She trailed along behind the two of them as they headed toward Maryse, Max, and Rafe. She didn’t want to look as if she were in any way eager to go to Alicante. She felt a little bad about deceiving Julian, but if there was anything she’d learned from Kit and Ty in the past weeks, it was that sometimes you had to trick a trickster at his own game.

*

“But why are the small ones going?” said Gwyn as Diana stood watching Max, then Rafe, then Tavvy pass through the Portal to Alicante. “It was my understanding that Julian wished to keep them all together.”

Diana sighed and slipped her hand into Gwyn’s. “It’s because he loves them that he’s sending them away. Battle is no place for a child.”

“We have children in the Wild Hunt. As young as eight years, sometimes,” said Gwyn.

“Yes, but we’ve also covered how that’s a bad thing, Gwyn.”

“Sometimes I forget all the lessons you teach me,” said Gwyn, but he sounded amused. Dru was just stepping through the Portal to Alicante: She turned at the last moment and looked back at Julian. Diana saw him nod encouragingly as Dru stepped into the whirlwind and was gone. “It is not certain there will be a battle, either.”

“It is not certain there won’t be,” Diana said. Julian had turned away from the Portal; the encouraging look he’d worn for Dru and Tavvy was gone, and he looked hollow and sad. He headed toward the Institute doors.

The false faces we wear for the ones we love, Diana thought. Julian would bleed out for these children and never ask for a bandage in fear that the question would upset them. “The children will be safe with Maryse. And not being frightened for them will free up Julian and the rest of us to do what we need to do.”

“And what is it you need to do?”

Diana tipped her head back to look up at Gwyn. “Be warriors.”

Gwyn touched a curl of her hair. “You are a warrior every day.”

Diana smiled. Julian had reached the Sanctuary doors and had turned there, looking out on the group in front of the Institute: a motley collection of warlocks, Shadowhunters, and a group of werewolves playing hacky sack. “Time to come in,” he said, his voice carrying over the sound of the sea. “The real meeting’s about to start.”

*

From the window of the Gard, Manuel could see Shadowhunters streaming in through the Great Gate, the main entrance to the city of Alicante. All the exits were guarded now and warded against the imaginary threat of encroaching Unseelie faeries.

“It does not seem the Blackthorns’ meeting was a success,” said Horace. He could see out the window from the Inquisitor’s big desk. It was odd, Manuel thought; he still didn’t think of Horace as the Inquisitor. Perhaps because he had never really cared who the Inquisitor or the Consul was. They were positions of power and therefore desirable, but they held no inherent meaning. “The families he invited to his little insurrection are still arriving.”

Zara entered without knocking, as was her usual style. She wore her Centurion gear, as she always did. Manuel found it pretentious. “The Rosewains are here, and the Keos, and the Rosaleses.” She was fuming. “They all arrived at once, through Portals. It’s like they’re not even trying to hide it.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Manuel. “If we hadn’t been tipped off about the meeting, I don’t think we’d have noticed. Too many people coming and going.”

“Don’t compliment Julian Blackthorn,” said Zara, scowling. “He’s a traitor.”

“Oh, clearly,” said Manuel. “But now we get to punish them, which I’m going to enjoy.”

“I’m sure you are.” Zara gave him a superior look, but Manuel knew she was going to enjoy the punishment of the Blackthorns just as much as he was. They both hated Emma. Of course, Manuel had good reason—she’d shown him disrespect at the last Council Hall meeting—while Zara was merely jealous.

“We will make an example of them,” said Horace. “After the parley. Not the younger Blackthorns—no one likes to see a child die, even if the seeds of evil are in them. But Julian certainly, and that half-breed brother and sister of his. The Carstairs girl, of course. Aline Penhallow is a tricky question—”

The door opened. Manuel looked around curiously; there was only one other visitor to Horace’s office who, like Zara, never bothered knocking.

A tall, blond Shadowhunter stepped into the room. Manuel had seen him earlier, coming through the Great Gates. Oskar Lindquist, having separated himself from the rest of his equally blond family.

Horace glanced up. His eyes glittered. “Shut the door behind you.”

Oskar made a sound between a growl and a laugh, closing and locking the office door. There was a slight shimmer in the air as he turned and began to change. It was like watching water spill over a painting, distorting and altering the lines of it.

Zara made a low noise of disgust as Oskar’s head fell back and his body spasmed, his hair turning a dark brownish-black and falling to spill over his shoulders, his spine compacting as he shrank down into a smaller frame, the lines of his jaw softening into a new, familiar outline.

Annabel Blackthorn looked at them out of steady blue-green eyes.

“So, how was the meeting?” Horace said. “We surmised it hadn’t gone well, considering the number of Shadowhunters returning to Idris.”

“I believe it went as intended.” Horace wrinkled his brow as Annabel sat stiffly in a chair opposite his desk. Zara watched her warily; Horace kept referring to Annabel as the Unseelie King’s gift to him, but perhaps Zara didn’t consider it a gift. “Except for the fact that I was there.”