Queen of Air and Darkness

by Cassandra Clare

  Ty glanced over toward Magnus and Alec, who were swinging Max between them while he gurgled with laughter. “I want to go to the Scholomance,” Ty said abruptly.

  Julian started. It was true they were starting the Scholomance back up, with new instructors and new classes. It wouldn’t be like it was. But still. “The Scholomance? But wouldn’t the Academy be better? You’re only fifteen.”

  “I always wanted to be able to solve mysteries,” said Ty. “But people who solve mysteries, they know a lot of things. The Academy won’t teach me the things I want to know, but the Scholomance will let me pick what I learn. It’s the best place for me. If I can’t be Livvy’s parabatai, this is what I should be.”

  Julian tried to think of what to say. Ty wasn’t the child that Julian had been so desperate to protect. He had survived the death of his sister, he had survived an enormous battle. He had fought the Riders of Mannan. For all Ty’s life, Julian had tried to help him master all the skills he would need to lead a happy life. He’d known that eventually he’d need to let him go so he could live it.

  He just hadn’t realized that that moment would come soon.

  Julian put his hand flat on Ty’s chest. “All the way down in your heart, this is what you want?”

  “Yes. This is what I want. Ragnor Fell will be teaching there, and Catarina Loss. I’ll come home all the time. You’ve made me strong enough that I can do this, Julian.” He put his hand over his brother’s. “After everything that’s happened, it’s what I deserve.”

  “As long as you know home is always waiting for you,” said Julian.

  Ty’s eyes were gray as the ocean. “I know.”

  * * *

  The sky was full of sparks—gold and blue and purple, glimmering like ardent fireflies as the wedding fireworks died away. They floated up from the beach to reach the level of the bluffs where Kit stood with Jem and Tessa on either side of him.

  It was a scene both familiar and unfamiliar. He had begged for this: a quick stop via Portal to see the Los Angeles Institute one last time. He’d wondered how it would be; he was surprised to realize he felt as if he could have easily walked into the wedding party and taken his place with Julian and Emma and Cristina and the rest. Dru would have welcomed him. They all would.

  But he didn’t belong there. Not after what had happened. The thought of seeing Ty at all hurt much too much.

  Not that he couldn’t see him. He could see all of them: Dru in her black dress dancing with Simon, and Mark and Cristina chatting with Jaime, and Kieran teaching Diego some kind of awkward faerie dance, and Emma with her hair like a waterfall of amber light, and Julian starting to walk up the beach toward her. They were always going toward each other, those two, like magnets. He’d heard from Jem that they were dating now, and since he’d never really understood the hazy “parabatai can’t date” thing anyway, he wished them well. He could see Aline and Helen too, Aline holding a bottle of champagne and laughing, Helen hugging Tavvy and swinging him around. He could see Diana with Gwyn, the Wild Hunt leader with a big arm thrown protectively around his lady. He could see Alec lying in the sand beside Jace, deep in conversation, and Clary talking to Isabelle, and Magnus dancing with his two sons in the moonlight.

  He could see them all, and of course he could see Ty.

  Ty stood at the water’s edge. He wouldn’t have wanted to be close to the noise and the lights and shouting, and Kit hated that even now he wanted to go down to the beach and draw Ty away, to protect him from anything and everything that might upset him. He didn’t look upset, though. He was facing the glittering waves. Anybody else would have thought he was splashing around in the bioluminescence by himself, but Kit could see that he wasn’t alone.

  A girl in a long white dress, with Blackthorn-brown hair, floated barefoot above the water. She was dancing, invisible to anyone but Ty—and Kit, who saw even what he didn’t want to see.

  Ty threw something into the ocean—his phone, Kit thought. Getting rid of the Black Volume and its images forever. At least that was something. Kit watched as Ty waded out a little bit, tipping his head back, smiling up at the Livvy only he could see.

  Remember him like this, Kit thought, happy and smiling. His hand crept up to touch the faded white scar on his left arm where Ty had drawn that Talent rune what felt like so long ago.

  Jem put his hand on Kit’s shoulder. Tessa was looking at him with deep sympathy, as if she understood more than he’d guessed.

  “We should go,” Jem said, his voice gentle as always. “It does no one any good to look backward for too long and forget that the future lies ahead.”

  Kit turned away to follow them both into his new life.

  * * *

  Dawn was starting to break.

  The wedding party had lasted all night. Though many of the guests had staggered off to sleep in the Institute (or were carried off, protesting, by their parents and older siblings), a few still remained, huddled up on blankets, watching the sun rise behind the mountains.

  Emma couldn’t remember a better celebration. She was curled up on a striped blanket with Julian, in the shelter of a tumble of rocks. The sand under them was cool, silvered by the dawn light, and the water had just begun to dance with golden sparks. She leaned back against Julian’s chest, his arms around her.

  His hand moved gently up her arm, fingers dancing against her skin. W-H-A-T A-R-E Y-O-U T-H-I-N-K-I-N-G A-B-O-U-T?

  “Just that I’m happy for Magnus and Alec,” she said. “They’re so happy, and I feel like one day—we could be happy like that too.”

  He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Of course we will be.”

  His complete confidence spread warmth through her, like a comforting blanket. She glanced up at him.

  “Remember when you were under the spell?” she said. “And I asked you why I took down all that stuff in my closet, about my parents. And you said it was because I knew who’d killed them now, and he was dead. Because I got revenge.”

  “And I was wrong,” he said.

  She took one of his hands in hers. It was a hand as familiar to her as her own—she knew every scar, every callus; she rejoiced in every splash of paint. “Do you know now?”

  “You did it to honor your parents,” he said. “To show them you’d let go of it all, that you weren’t going to let revenge control your life. Because they wouldn’t have wanted that for you.”

  She kissed his fingers. He shivered, drew her closer. “That’s right.” She looked up at him. Dawn light turned his wind-tangled hair to a halo. “I do keep worrying,” she said. “Maybe I shouldn’t have let Zara go. Maybe Jia and the Council should have arrested every Cohort sympathizer, like Balogh, not just the ones who fought. People like him are the reason things turned out the way they did.”

  Julian was watching the ocean as it slowly lightened. “We can only arrest people for what they do, not what they think,” he said. “Any other way of doing things makes us like the Dearborns. And we’re better off with what we have now than we would be if we’d become like them. Besides,” he added, “every choice has a long afterlife of consequences. No one can know the eventual outcome of any decision. All you can do is make the best choice you can make in the moment.”

  She let her head fall back against his shoulder. “Do you remember when we used to come down here when we were kids? And make sandcastles?”

  He nodded.

  “When you were gone earlier this summer, I came here all the time,” she said. “I thought about you, how much I missed you.”

  “Did you think sexy thoughts?” Julian grinned at her, and she swatted his arm. “Never mind, I know you did.”

  “Why do I ever tell you anything?” she complained, but they were both smiling at each other in a goofy way she was sure any bystander would have found intolerable.

  “Because you love me,” he said.

  “True,” she agreed. “Even more now than I used to.”

  His arms tightened around her. She looked
up at him; his face was tight, as if with pain.

  “What is it?” she said, puzzled; she hadn’t meant to say anything that would hurt him.

  “Just the thought,” he said, his voice low and rough, “of being able to talk about this, with you. It’s a freedom I never imagined we would ever have, that I would ever have. I always thought what I wanted was impossible. That the best I could hope for was a life of silent despair as your friend, that at least I would be able to be somewhere near you while you lived your life and I became less and less a part of it—”

  “Julian.” There was pain in his eyes, and even if it was a remembered pain, she hated to see it. “That would never have happened. I always loved you. Even when I didn’t know it, I loved you. Even when you didn’t feel anything, even when you weren’t you, I remembered the real you and I loved you.” She managed to turn around, slide her arms around his neck. “And I love you so much more now.”

  She leaned up to kiss him, and his hands slid into her hair: She knew he loved to touch her hair, just as he had always loved to paint it. He drew her into his lap, stroking her back. His sea-glass bracelet was cool against her bare skin as their mouths met slowly; Julian’s mouth was soft and tasted of salt and sunshine. She hovered in the kiss, in the timeless pleasure of it, in knowing it wasn’t the last but was one of the first, sealing the promise of a love that would last down the years of their lives.

  They came out of the embrace reluctantly, like divers unwilling to leave the beauty of the underwater world behind. The circle of each other’s arms, their own private city in the sea. “Why did you say that?” he whispered breathlessly, nuzzling the hair at her temple. “That you love me more now?”

  “You’ve always felt everything so intensely,” she said after a moment’s pause. “And that was something I did love about you. How much you loved your family, how you would do anything for them. But you kept your heart closed off. You didn’t trust anyone, and I don’t blame you—you took everything on yourself, and you kept so many secrets, because you thought you had to. But when you opened up the Institute for the war council, you made yourself trust other people to help you execute a plan. You didn’t hide; you let yourself be open to being hurt or betrayed so you could lead them. And when you came to me in the Silent City and you stopped me breaking the rune—” Her voice shook. “You told me to trust not just you but in the intrinsic goodness of the world. That was my worst point, my darkest point, and you were there, despite everything, with your heart open. You were there to bring me home.”

  He laid his fingers against the bare skin of her arm, where her parabatai rune had once been. “You brought me back too,” he said with a sort of awe. “I’ve loved you all my life, Emma. And when I felt nothing, I realized—without that love, I was nothing. You’re the reason I wanted to break out of the cage. You made me understand that love creates far more joy than any pain it causes.” He tipped his head back to look up at her, his blue-green eyes shining. “I’ve loved my family since the day I was born and I always will. But you’re the love I chose, Emma. Out of everyone in the world, out of everyone I’ve ever known, I chose you. I’ve always had faith in that choice. At the edge of everything, love and faith have always brought me back, and back to you.”

  At the edge of everything, love and faith have always brought me back. Emma didn’t have to ask; she knew what he was thinking about: their friends and family lined up before them on the Imperishable Fields, the love that had brought them back from a curse so strong the whole of the Shadowhunter world had feared it.

  She placed her hand over his heart, and for a moment they sat in silence, their hands remembering where their parabatai runes had once been. They were bidding good-bye, Emma thought, to what they had been: Everything from this moment on would be new.

  They would never forget what had gone before. The banner of Livia’s Watch flew even now from the roof of the Institute. They would remember their parents, and Arthur and Livvy, and all they had lost, but they would step into the world the new Clave was building with hope and remembrance mixed together, because though the Seelie Queen was a liar, every liar was truthful sometimes. She had been right about one thing: Without sorrow, there can be no joy.

  They lowered their hands, their gazes locked. The sun was rising over the mountains, painting the sky like one of Julian’s canvases in royal purple and bloody gold. It was dawn in more than one sense: They would step into the world’s day from this moment onward without being afraid. This would be the true beginning of a new life that they would face together, in all their human frailty and imperfections. And if ever one of them feared the bad in themselves, as all people did sometimes, they had the other to remind them of the good.

  EPILOGUE

  The Queen sat upon her throne as faerie workmen swept in and out of the room.

  Everything had changed. The color of triumph was gold, and the Unseelie King was dead. His favored son had become the Queen’s closest adviser and loyal friend. After so long immured in the ice of grief over the loss of Ash, the Queen had begun to feel alive again.

  Workmen had polished the marble floors, removing the signs of burning. Gems had been placed in the walls where holes had been: They glimmered now like winking eyes, red and blue and green. Butterflies with shining wings circled the roof, casting shifting, prismatic patterns over the silk-draped throne and the low couches that had been carried in for her courtiers to lounge upon.

  Soon the new Unseelie King, Kieran, would pay a visit and he would not find the throne room any less than dazzling. She was curious about the boy King. She had met him before, one of the Unseelie King’s pack of feral children, wounded and leaning upon Shadowhunters for support. That he had risen so high surprised her. Perhaps he had hidden qualities.

  The new closeness of the Shadowhunters and the Unseelie Court was disturbing, of course. She had lost several good courtiers to the wiles of the Shadowhunters, Nene among them. Perhaps she should have tried harder to get the Blackthorn boy and the Carstairs girl to destroy the parabatai rune and weaken their army. But you could only plant the seeds of discord; you could not be assured that each of them would grow. The game was a long one, and impatience served no one well.

  She had been distraught, too, over the loss of her son. She had been searching for him since, but with little hope. Other worlds were not magic that faeries understood well.

  The golden velvet curtain that hung at the throne room’s entrance rustled, and Fergus entered. He wore a permanently sour expression these days since his place in her favor had become Adaon’s. There was more than sourness in it now, though. There was more than a little alarm. “My lady,” he said. “You have visitors.”

  She raised herself up in her chair to show her white silk gown, clinging and gossamer, to better advantage. “Is it the Unseelie King?”

  “No,” he said. “A Shadowhunter. Jace Herondale.”

  She slitted her eyes at Fergus. “Jace Herondale is forbidden to enter my throne room.” The last time he had, he’d nearly stabbed her. It was irresponsible of Fergus to forget such a thing. “Are you unwell, Fergus? Why did you not send him away?”

  “Because I think you will want to see him, my lady. He surrendered his blades to me willingly, and he is . . . not alone.”

  “This had better be worth my time, Fergus, or it will cost you your second bedroom.” She waved an angry hand in his direction. “Let him in, but return as well to stand guard.”

  Fergus departed. The Queen idly considered having Jace pecked by pixies, but it seemed like trouble and would unnecessarily annoy the new Shadowhunter government. The word was that they had put Alec Lightwood in charge—unfortunate, as she had disliked him since he had killed Meliorn, her last champion—and he would be unlikely to forgive trouble visited on his best friend.

  Perhaps this was why Jace was here? To forge an alliance? She had only just had the thought when the curtain rustled again and Fergus came in, escorting two companions, one robed and hooded.
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  The other was Jace Herondale, but it was not the Jace Herondale she knew. The Jace she knew had been beautiful as angels were beautiful: this Jace was older, haggard. Still handsome but in the manner of a granite cliff seared by lightning. There was no gentleness in his eyes, and he was muscled like an adult, with nothing childish left in him. There was a dark light about him—as if he carried a miasma of ill magic with him wherever he walked.

  “I have his swords,” said Fergus. “You might wish to see them.”

  He laid them at the Queen’s feet. A larger sword with stars imprinted on its dark silver blade, its pommel and grip coated in gold. A smaller sword of black gold and adamas, a pattern of stars down its center ridge.

  “Heosphorus and Phaesphorus,” said the Queen. “But they were destroyed.”

  “Not in my world,” said Jace. “In Thule, much lives that is dead here, and much is dead there that lives in your world, Queen.”

  “You speak in riddles,” said the Queen, though her ancient heart had begun to beat with a rare swiftness. The land of Thule is death and it will rain down death here. “Are you from the world the Unseelie King called Thule?”

  He swept a mocking bow. His clothes were filthy with dust, and they resembled no Shadowhunter gear she had ever seen. “I am not the Jace Herondale you know or have ever met. I am his dark mirror. I have indeed come from that world. But my friend here was born here, in your Courts.”

  “Your friend?” the Queen breathed.

  Jace nodded. “Ash, take down your hood.”

  His companion raised his hands and drew back the hood of his cloak, though the Queen knew already what she would see.

  White-silver curls tumbled over his brow. He was some years older than he had been when he had gone through the Portal in the Unseelie King’s throne room. He looked a mortal in his teen years, his face already beginning to show signs of her own beauty. His eyes were green as grass as the true eyes of his father had been. He regarded her with a calm, straightforward gaze.