Cassandra Clare - City of Glass

Clary shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, the battle barely went on for ten minutes, after all that. I don’t know how much I helped.”

“I was in that battle, Clary,” Simon said. “It may have been about ten minutes long, but it was the worst ten minutes of my life. And I don’t really want to talk about it. But I will say that even in that ten minutes, there would have been a lot more death if it hadn’t been for you. Besides, the battle was only part of it. If you hadn’t done what you did, there would be no New Council. We would be Shadowhunters and Downworlders, hating each other, instead of Shadowhunters and Downworlders, going to a party together.”

Clary felt a lump rising in her throat and stared straight ahead, willing herself not to tear up. “Thanks, Simon.” She hesitated, so briefly that no one who wasn’t Simon would have noticed it. But he did.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her.

“I’m just wondering what we do when we get back home,” she said. “I mean, I know Magnus took care of your mom so she hasn’t been freaking out that you’re gone, but—school. We’ve missed a ton of it. And I don’t even know…”

“You’re not going back,” Simon said quietly. “You think I don’t know that? You’re a Shadowhunter now. You’ll finish up your education at the Institute.”

“And what about you? You’re a vampire. Are you just going to go back to high school?”

“Yeah,” Simon said, surprising her. “I am. I want a normal life, as much as I can have one. I want high school, and college, and all of that.”

She squeezed his hand. “Then you should have it.” She smiled up at him. “Of course, everyone’s going to freak out when you show up at school.”

“Freak out? Why?”

“Because you’re so much hotter now than when you left.” She shrugged. “It’s true. Must be a vampire thing.”

Simon looked baffled. “I’m hotter now?”

“Sure you are. I mean, look at those two. They’re both totally into you.” She pointed to a few feet in front of them, where Isabelle and Maia had moved to walk side by side, their heads bent together.

Simon looked up ahead at the girls. Clary could almost swear he was blushing. “Are they? Sometimes they get together and whisper and stare at me. I have no idea what it’s about.”

“Sure you don’t.” Clary grinned. “Poor you, you have two cute girls vying for your love. Your life is hard.”

“Fine. You tell me which one to choose, then.”

“No way. That’s on you.” She lowered her voice again. “Look, you can date whoever you want and I will totally support you. I am all about support. Support is my middle name.”

“So that’s why you never told me your middle name. I figured it was something embarrassing.”

Clary ignored this. “But just promise me something, okay? I know how girls get. I know how they hate their boyfriends having a best friend who’s a girl. Just promise me you won’t cut me out of your life totally. That we can still hang out sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” Simon shook his head. “Clary, you’re crazy.”

Her heart sank. “You mean…”

“I mean that I would never date a girl who insisted that I cut you out of my life. It’s non-negotiable. You want a piece of all this fabulousness?” He gestured at himself. “Well, my best friend comes along with it. I wouldn’t cut you out of my life, Clary, any more than I would cut off my right hand and give it to someone as a Valentine’s Day gift.”

“Gross,” said Clary. “Must you?”

He grinned. “I must.”

Angel Square was almost unrecognizable. The Hall glowed white at the far end of the plaza, partly obscured by an elaborate forest of huge trees that had sprung up in the center of the square. They were clearly the product of magic—although, Clary thought, remembering Magnus’s ability to whisk furniture and cups of coffee across Manhattan at the blink of an eye, maybe they were real, if transplanted. The trees rose nearly to the height of the demon towers, their silvery trunks wrapped with ribbons, colored lights caught in the whispering green nets of their branches. The square smelled of white flowers, smoke, and leaves. All around its edges were placed tables and long benches, and groups of Shadowhunters and Downworlders crowded around them, laughing and drinking and talking. Yet despite the laughter, there was a somberness mixed with the air of celebration—a present sorrow side by side with joy.

The stores that lined the square had their doors thrown open, light spilling out onto the pavement. Partygoers streamed by, carrying plates of food and long-stemmed glasses of wine and brightly colored liquids. Simon watched a kelpie skip past, carrying a glass of blue fluid, and raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not like Magnus’s party,” Isabelle reassured him. “Everything here ought to be safe to drink.”

“ Ought to be?” Aline looked worried.

Alec glanced toward the mini-forest, the colored lights reflecting in the blue irises of his eyes. Magnus stood in the shadow of a tree, talking to a girl in a white dress with a cloud of pale brown hair. She turned as Magnus looked toward them, and Clary locked eyes with her for a moment across the distance that separated them. There was something familiar about her, though Clary couldn’t have said what it was.

Magnus broke away and came toward them, and the girl he’d been talking to slipped into the shadows of the trees and was gone. He was dressed like a Victorian gentleman, in a long black frock coat over a violet silk vest. A square pocket handkerchief embroidered with the initials M.B. protruded from his vest pocket.

“Nice vest,” said Alec with a smile.

“Would you like one exactly like it?” Magnus inquired. “In any color you prefer, of course.”

“I don’t really care about clothes,” Alex protested.

“And I love that about you,” Magnus announced, “though I would also love you if you owned, perhaps, one designer suit. What do you say? Dolce? Zegna? Armani?”

Alec sputtered as Isabelle laughed, and Magnus took the opportunity to lean close to Clary and whisper in her ear. “The Accords Hall steps. Go.”

She wanted to ask him what he meant, but he’d already turned back to Alec and the others. Besides, she had a feeling she knew. She squeezed Simon’s wrist as she went, and he turned to smile at her before returning to his conversation with Maia.

She cut through the edge of the glamour forest to cross the square, weaving in and out of the shadows. The trees reached up to the foot of the Hall stairs, which was probably why the steps were almost deserted. Though not entirely. Glancing toward the doors, Clary could make out a familiar dark outline, seated in the shadow of a pillar. Her heart quickened.

Jace.

She had to gather her skirt up in her hands to climb the stairs, afraid she’d step on and tear the delicate material. She almost wished she had worn her normal clothes as she approached Jace, who was sitting with his back to a pillar, staring out over the square. He wore his most mundane clothes—jeans, a white shirt, and a dark jacket over them. And for almost the first time since she’d met him, she thought, he didn’t seem to be carrying any weapons.

She abruptly felt overdressed. She stopped a slight distance away from him, suddenly unsure what to say.

As if sensing her there, Jace looked up. He was holding something balanced in his lap, she saw, a silvery box. He looked tired. There were shadows under his eyes, and his pale gold hair was untidy. His eyes widened. “Clary?”

“Who else would it be?”

He didn’t smile. “You don’t look like you.”

“It’s the dress.” She smoothed her hands down the material self-consciously. “I don’t usually wear things this…pretty.”