Queen of Air and Darkness

Page 130

“No,” Cristina said after a long pause. “But it doesn’t—”

“You’re afraid of what everyone is afraid of,” said Emma. “Having your hearts broken, being made miserable by love. But what you’re saying, that’s what the Cohort wants. They want to make people afraid, to make them stay apart because they have created an environment of fear and suspicion where you could be punished for being with someone you love. If they got their way, they’d punish Alec for being with Magnus, but that doesn’t mean Magnus and Alec should split up. Am I making sense?”

“A little too much sense,” Cristina said, pulling at a loose thread on her sleeve.

“I know one thing for sure,” Emma said. “Cristina, of all the people I know, you’re the most generous, and you spend the most time thinking about what makes other people happy. I think you should do whatever makes you happy. You deserve it.”

“Thanks.” Cristina gave her a shaky smile. “What about you and Julian? How are you doing?”

Emma’s stomach lurched, surprising her. It was as if hearing the words “you and Julian” had set something off inside her. She pushed down on the feeling, trying to control it. “It’s really hard,” she whispered. “Julian and I can’t even talk to each other. And the best we can hope for after all this is over is some kind of exile.”

“I know.” Cristina took Emma’s hand in hers; Emma tried to still her own shaking. Cristina’s reassuring touch helped. For the millionth time, Emma wished she’d met Cristina earlier—that Cristina could have been her parabatai. “After the exile, if it happens, come and stay with me, wherever I am. Mexico, anywhere. I’ll take care of you.”

Emma made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sniffle. “That’s what I mean. You’re always doing things for other people, Tina.”

“Okay, well, then I’m going to ask you to do something for me.”

“What? I’ll do anything. Unless it makes your mom mad. Your mom scares me.”

“You want to kill Zara in the battle, if there’s a fight, don’t you?” Cristina said.

“The thought had crossed my mind. Okay. Yes. If anyone else takes her out, I’m going to be really angry.” Emma mock scowled.

Cristina sighed. “We don’t even know if there’s going to be a fight, Emma. If Zara is spared or imprisoned or escapes, or if someone else kills her, I don’t want you to dwell on it. Focus on what you want your life to be after tomorrow.”

After tomorrow I’ll be exiled, Emma thought. Will I see you again, Cristina? Will I always miss you?

Cristina narrowed her eyes in concern. “Emma? Promise me?”

But before Emma could promise, before she could say anything at all, Aline’s and Helen’s voices cut through the evening air, calling them down to dinner.

*

“Has anyone ever tried ketchup on a s’more?” Isabelle said.

“This is why you’re a bad cook,” said Alec. Simon, bundled up in a sweater and leaning back against a log, slunk down as if he hoped to become invisible. “You actually like disgusting food. It’s not, like, an accident.”

“I like ketchup and s’mores,” said Simon loyally, and mouthed to Clary, I don’t like them.

“I know,” Clary said. “I can feel through the parabatai bond how much you don’t like them.”

“Julian is an excellent cook,” said Emma, spearing a marshmallow. Magnus had produced bags of them along with the requisite chocolate and graham crackers. He gave Emma a dark look that seemed to say, Stay away from Julian, and also his cooking.

“I am also an excellent cook,” said Mark, putting an acorn onto his s’more. Everyone stared.

“He can’t help it,” said Cristina loyally. “He has lived with the Wild Hunt for so long.”

“I don’t do that,” said Kieran, eating a s’more in the correct fashion. “Mark has no excuse.”

“I never pictured Shadowhunters eating s’mores,” said Kit, glancing around the fire. It was like a scene out of dreams of camping he’d had when he was a little kid—the fire, the trees, everyone bundled up in sweaters and sitting around on logs, smoke in their eyes and hair. “On the other hand, this is the first s’more I’ve ever had that didn’t come out of a box.”

“That’s not a s’more, then,” Ty said. “That’s a cookie. Or some cereal.”

Kit smiled, and Ty smiled back at him. He leaned against Julian, who was sitting beside him; Julian put an absent arm around his younger brother, his hand ruffling Ty’s hair.

“Excited for your first battle?” Jace said to Kit. Jace was sitting cross-legged with his arms around Clary, who was creating a massive s’more out of several chocolate bars.

“He’s not going!” Clary said. “He’s too young, Jace.” She looked at Kit. “Don’t listen to him.”

“He seems old enough,” said Jace. “I was fighting battles when I was ten.”

“Stay away from my children,” said Magnus. “I’m watching you, Herondale.”

Kit felt a brief jolt before realizing Magnus wasn’t talking to him. Then another when he realized he’d reacted unconsciously to the name Herondale.

“This is great,” said Helen, yawning. “I haven’t been camping in so long. You can’t go camping on Wrangel Island. Your fingers will turn to icicles and snap right off.”

Emma frowned. “Where’s Cristina?”

Kit glanced around: Emma was right. Cristina had slipped away from the group.

“She shouldn’t be walking around the edge of the forest,” Magnus said, frowning. “There are booby traps there. Quite well hidden, if I do say so myself.” He started to rise. “I’ll get her.”

Mark and Kieran were already on their feet.

“We will find her,” Mark said hastily. “In the Hunt, we learned much about traps.”

“And few know more about the ways of the forest than the fey,” said Kieran.

Magnus shrugged, but there was a knowing spark in his eye that Kit didn’t quite understand. “All right. Go ahead.”

As they vanished into the shadows, Emma smiled and placed another marshmallow on a stick.

“Let’s make a toast.” Aline raised a plastic cup of water. “To never being parted from our families again.” She gazed at the fire. “Once tomorrow comes, we’re never going to let the Clave do that to any of us again.”

“Not to be parted from family or friends,” said Helen, raising her glass.

“Or parabatai,” said Simon, winking at Clary.

Alec and Jace cheered, but Julian and Emma were silent. Emma seemed bleakly sad, staring down into her cup of water. She did not seem to see Julian, who looked at her for a single long moment before wrenching his gaze away.

“To never being parted,” Kit said, looking across the campfire at Ty.

Ty’s thin face was limned in light from the red-gold flames. “To never being parted,” he said, with a grave emphasis that made Kit shiver for reasons he did not understand.

*

Maryse could no longer return to the Inquisitor’s house, as Horace and Zara had moved into it. Instead she took Dru and the others to the Graymark house, the one Clary said she had stayed in when she’d first come to Idris.

Dru had gone to bed as soon as she politely could. She lay with the covers tucked up to her chin, looking at the last bits of sunlight fading from the circular windows. This side of the house faced onto a garden full of roses the color of old lace. A trellis climbed to the windows and circled them: At the height of summer they probably looked like necklaces of roses. Houses of old stone fell away down the hill toward the walls of Alicante—walls that tomorrow would be lined with Shadowhunters facing the Imperishable Fields.

Dru burrowed farther under the covers. She could hear Maryse in the room next door, singing to Max and Rafe and Tavvy, a lilting song in French. It was strange to be too old for singing to comfort you but too young to take part in battle preparations. She started to say their names to herself, as a sort of good luck charm: Jules and Emma. Mark and Helen. Ty and Li—

No. Not Livvy.

The singing had stopped. Dru heard footsteps in the hall and her door open; Maryse stuck her head in. “Is everything all right, Drusilla? Do you need anything?”

Dru would have liked a glass of water, but she didn’t know exactly how to talk to Max and Rafe’s imposing, dark-haired grandmother. She’d heard Maryse playing with Tavvy earlier, and she appreciated how kind this woman who was basically a stranger was being to them. She just wished she knew how to say it.

“No, that’s okay,” Dru said. “I don’t need anything.”

Maryse leaned against the doorjamb. “I know it’s hard,” she said. “When I was young, my parents always used to take my brother, Max, with them to hunt demons and leave me alone at home. They said I’d be frightened if I went with them. I always tried to tell them I was more frightened worrying they’d never come back.”

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