Cristina was indignant. “I can’t believe he did that! He should have gotten in touch with you right away!”
Kieran smiled at her. She wondered that she had ever found anything about him harsh or distant. They moved closer to each other, a quiet group of three among the fire and the laughter, their heads bent together.
“Will it really work?” Mark looked troubled. He reached over to brush sand from Kieran’s velvet sleeve. “Is there really a place we can be together?”
Kieran produced a key from a chain around his throat—it looked ancient, blackened with age, a brassy silver. “The cottage is ours now. It will give us a place where there are no kings, no queens, no mortals or faeries. Just the three of us together. It won’t be all the time, but it will be enough.”
“For now I will take any time with the two of you that I can have,” Cristina said, and Kieran leaned in to kiss her softly. When he drew back, Mark was smiling at them both.
“Cristina and I will be very busy, I think,” he said. “Between our families in different Institutes and our work with the Alliance. And you too will be busy with your new kingdom. The time we spend together will be precious indeed.”
Cristina patted her pocket. “Diego and Jaime both said they’d be grateful if I’d keep watch over the Eternidad. So all you need to do is send us a message, Kieran, and we will come to you.”
Kieran looked thoughtful. “Will you bring me one of those cat calendars of which I have grown fond? I would like to decorate the cottage.”
“There are actually other kinds of calendars. Ones with otters and rabbits and puppies,” Mark said, grinning.
Looking beatific, Kieran tipped his head back to see the stars. “This is truly a land of marvels.”
Cristina gazed at them both, her heart so full of love it hurt. “It truly is.”
* * *
When Alec and Magnus returned to the beach, it had been transfigured.
“You planned this?” Magnus said, looking around in wonder. He’d had no idea—none at all, but it was unmistakeable. Magnus and Alec had lain awake so many nights in their apartment in Brooklyn, as the ceiling fan spun slowly overhead, and whispered their thoughts and plans for that far-off day when they would make their promises in gold and blue. They had both known what they wanted.
Their friends had worked quickly. The Shadowhunters had donned wedding runes, proclaiming their witness to a ceremony of love and commitment. The Downworlders had tied silk strips of cobalt blue around their left wrists, as guests at warlock weddings ceremonially did. It had been so long, Magnus thought, since he had attended a wedding for one of his own. He had never thought it would happen for him.
Glimmering torches, their flames untouched by the wind, described pathways on the beach, leading to a wooden platform that had been placed in view of the sea. Magnus had grown up able to see the ocean, and he had once—only once—mentioned to Alec that he would like to be married within the sound of its waves. His heart felt as if it were being crushed into a thousand joyous pieces now, since Alec had remembered.
“I’m just glad you said yes,” said Alec. “I’d hate to have to explain to everyone that they have to put the decorations away. And I already told the kids I had a surprise for you.”
Magnus couldn’t help himself; he kissed Alec on the cheek. “You still surprise me every day, Alexander,” he said. “You and your damn poker face.”
Alec laughed. As their friends waved them forward eagerly, Magnus could hear their greetings and cheers, carried on the wind. Runes shimmered gold under the torchlight, and deep blue cobalt silk rustled in the wind.
Jace stepped forward first, in a gear jacket printed with golden runes, and held out a hand to Alec.
“I stand as suggenes to Alexander Lightwood,” he said with pride.
Magnus felt about Jace the way he had felt about many Shadowhunters over the years, Fairchilds and Herondales and Carstairs and others: fondness and faint exasperation. But in moments like this, when Jace’s love for Alec shone true and untrammeled, he felt only gratitude and affection.
Alec took Jace’s hand and they began to walk the pathway of light. Magnus made to follow them, warlocks having no tradition of suggenes—a companion to the altar—but Catarina stepped forward, smiling, and took his arm. “I fought our mutual green frenemy for the privilege of escorting you,” she said, indicating a fulminating Ragnor with a tilt of her head. “Come on, now—you don’t think I’d let you approach the altar alone? What if you got cold feet and ran off?”
Magnus chuckled as they passed by familiar faces: Maia and Bat, Lily wearing a tipsy crown of flowers, Helen and Aline whistling and clapping. Helen had a blue band around her wrist as well as gold runes on her clothes; so did Mark. “My feet have never been warmer,” Magnus said. “They’re positively toasty.”
She smiled at him. “No doubts?”
They had reached the end of the lighted path. Alec stood waiting, Jace beside him on the platform. Behind them was the ocean, stretching out silvery-blue as Magnus’s magic, all the way to the horizon. Their closest friends ringed the platform—Clary with her arms full of blue and yellow flowers, Isabelle carrying Max and sniffling back tears, Simon alight and smiling, Maryse with Rafe by her side: he looked solemn, as if aware of the significance of the occasion. Jia Penhallow stood where a priest would stand in a mundane ceremony, the Codex in her hand. They had all donned shawls or light jackets of silk, runed in gold; silk banners hung suspended in the sky, printed with runes of love and faith, commitment and family.
Magnus glanced down at Catarina. “No doubts,” he said.
She squeezed his hand and went to stand beside Jia. There was a second ring around the platform: The Blackthorns and their friends were all there, clustered in close. Julian smiled his slow quiet smile at Magnus; Emma glowed with happiness as Magnus crossed the wooden platform and took his place opposite Alec.
Alec held his hands out, and Magnus took them. He looked into Alec’s blue eyes, the precise color of his own magic, and felt a great calm descend over him, a peace beyond all other peace he had ever known.
No doubts. Magnus didn’t need to search his soul. He’d searched it a thousand times, ten thousand, in the years he’d known Alec. Not because he doubted, but because it shocked him so much that he didn’t. In all his life, he had never known such surety. He had lived happily and had no regrets, he had made poetry out of wondering and wandering, had lived untethered and gloried in freedom.
Then Magnus had met Alec. He had felt drawn to him in a way he couldn’t have explained or anticipated: He had wanted to see Alec smile, to see him be happy. He had watched Alec turn from a shy boy with secrets to a proud man who faced the world openly and unafraid. Alec had given him the gift of faith, a faith that Magnus was strong enough to make not just Alec happy, but a whole family happy. And in their happiness, Magnus had felt himself not just free, but surrounded by an unimaginable glory.
Some might have called it the presence of God.
Magnus just thought of it as Alexander Gideon Lightwood.
* * *
“Let us begin,” Jia said.
Emma had risen to her tiptoes in excitement. They had all known that there was going to be a surprise wedding on the beach—a surprise to Magnus, at any rate. If Alec had been nervous, he’d done a good job of mostly hiding it. No one else had thought Magnus might say no, but Emma remembered the slight tremble of Alec’s hands earlier, and her heart bubbled with happiness that it had all worked out.
Jace stepped forward to help Alec into a dark blue gear jacket printed with golden runes, while Catarina draped a cobalt-and-gilt silk jacket around Magnus’s shoulders.
They both moved back, and a hush fell over the crowd as Jia spoke.
“Through the centuries,” she said, “there have been few unions between Shadowhunters and Downworlders that have been recognized as such. But a new age has dawned, and with a new age come new traditions. Tonight, as Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwoo
d blend their lives and hearts, we stand ready to recognize this union. To witness a true bond between two souls who have cleaved to each other.” She cleared her throat. She looked a bit drawn, as she had in the Council Hall, but much less tired. There was delight and pride in her face as she gazed around the gathered group. “Alexander Gideon Lightwood. Hast thou found the one thy soul loves?”
It was a question asked at every wedding: part of the Shadowhunter ceremony for a thousand years. The crowd hushed, the hush of holiness, of sacred ritual observed and shared. Emma couldn’t help but reach out to hold Julian’s hand; he drew her against his side. There was something about the way Magnus and Alec looked at each other. Emma had thought they would be smiling, but they were both serious: They looked at each other as if the other person were as brilliant as a full moon that could blot out every star.
“I have found him,” Alec said. “And I will not let him go.”
“Magnus Bane,” said Jia, and Emma could not help but wonder if this was only the second time in history that this question had been asked of a warlock. “Hast thou gone among the watchmen, and in the cities of the world? Hast thou found the one thy soul loves?”
“I have found him,” Magnus said, gazing at Alec. “And I will not let him go.”
Jia inclined her head. “Now it is time for the exchanging of runes.”
This was the moment when, in a traditional ceremony, Shadowhunters would Mark each other with wedding runes and speak the words of the vows. But Magnus could not bear runes. They would burn his skin. Puzzled, Emma watched as Jia pressed something that flashed gold into Alec’s hand.
Alec moved closer to Magnus and Emma saw that it was a golden brooch in the shape of the Wedded Union rune. As Alec moved toward Magnus, he spoke the words of the Nephilim vows: “Love flashes out like fire, the brightest kind of flame Many waters cannot quench love, nor can the floods drown it.” He pinned the brooch over Magnus’s heart, his blue eyes never leaving Magnus’s face. “Now place me as a seal over thine heart, as a seal over thine arm: For love is strong as death. And so we are bound: stronger than flame, stronger than water, stronger than death itself.”
Magnus, his gaze fixed on Alec’s, laid his hand over the brooch. It was his turn now: Alec drew aside his jacket and rolled up his sleeve, baring his upper arm. He placed a stele in Magnus’s hand and clasped Magnus’s fingers within his own. With their hands entwined, Alec traced the shape of the Wedded Union rune onto his own arm. Emma assumed the second rune, the one over his heart, would be added later, in private, as it usually was.
When they were done, the rune stood out stark and black on Alec’s skin. It would never fade. It would never leave him, a sign of his love for Magnus for all time. Emma felt an ache deep down in her soul, where unspoken hopes and dreams lived. To have what Magnus and Alec had—anyone would be lucky.
Slowly Magnus lowered his hand, still clasped in Alec’s. He gazed at the rune on Alec’s arm in a sort of daze, and Alec looked back at him, as if neither of them could look away.
“The rings now,” said Jia, and Alec seemed to start out of a dream. Jace stepped forward and put one ring into Alec’s hand, and another into Magnus’s, and said something quietly to both of them that made them laugh. Simon was rubbing Isabelle’s back as she sniffled even more loudly, and Clary was smiling into her flowers.
Emma was glad of her Night Vision rune. With it, she could see that the rings were Lightwood family rings, etched with the traditional design of flames on the outside, and with words inscribed on the inside.
“Aku cinta kamu,” Magnus read out, gazing at the interior of the ring, and he smiled at Alec, a brilliant, world-spanning smile. “My love for yours, my heart for yours, my soul for yours, Alexander. Now and for all time.”
Catarina smiled at what must have been familiar words. Magnus and Alec slid the rings onto each other’s fingers, and Jia closed her book.
“Alexander Lightwood-Bane. Magnus Lightwood-Bane. You are now married,” she said. “Let us rejoice.”
The two men folded into each other’s arms, and a great cheer went up: Everyone was shouting, and hugging, and dancing, and the sky overhead burst into golden light as Ragnor, finally over his temper tantrum, began to fill the air with fireworks that exploded in the shapes of wedding runes. In the center of it all, Magnus and Alec held each other tightly, rings gleaming on their fingers like the slivers of a new sun breaking over the horizon.
* * *
The wedding ceremony had broken up into a party, ebullient guests crowding up and down the beach. Ragnor had magicked up a piano from somewhere and Jace was playing, his jacket slung over his shoulder like an old-time blues musician. Clary sat on the piano’s soundboard, tossing flowers into the air. Dancers spun barefoot in the sand, Shadowhunters and Downworlders lost in the music. Magnus and Alec danced close together, their children between them, a happy family tangle.
Diana and Gwyn sat some distance away. Gwyn had put down his cloak for Diana to sit on. She was touched by the gesture: The cloak of the Wild Hunt’s leader was a powerful item, but he didn’t seem to think twice about using it as a beach blanket.
Diana felt ebullient, light with happiness. She touched Gwyn on the wrist and he smiled at her.
“It is good to see so many happy. They deserve it,” he said. “Not just Magnus and Alec, but Mark and Kieran and Cristina as well.”
“And Emma and Julian. I always wondered . . .” Diana trailed off. In hindsight, of course, their love seemed perfectly clear.
“I assumed it,” said Gwyn. “They looked at each other as I look at you.” He cocked his head to the side. “I am glad they are happy now. All true hearts deserve such.”
“And what of the leader of the Hunt? What of his happiness?” said Diana.
He moved closer to her. The wind from the ocean was cool, and he drew her shawl closer about her throat to keep her warm. “Your happiness is my own,” he said. “You seem pensive. Will you tell me your mind?”
She dug her fingers into the cool sand. “I was so worried for so long,” she said. “I kept it all secret—being transgender, using mundane medicine—because I was afraid. But now I’ve told everyone. Everyone knows, and nothing terrible happened.” She smiled a bittersweet smile. “Our whole world has been turned upside down, and my secret now seems like such a small thing.”
Two days after they returned from Idris, Diana had gathered the inhabitants of the Los Angeles Institute and told her story to everyone who mattered to her. She had made it clear that it was no secret from the Consul. She had already talked to Alec, who had readily admitted he knew less than he thought he should about transgender Shadowhunters (or mundanes, for that matter) but was eager to learn.
She had done everything right, Alec had said; she had kept their secrets from the mundane doctors, she had brought no risk to Shadowhunters. He was only sorry she had ever lived in fear, as he once had himself. “But no longer,” he had said, his conviction audible. “The Clave has always attended to the strength of Shadowhunters but not to their happiness. If we can change that . . .”
She had promised she would work with him. The Blackthorns had responded to her story with love and sympathy, and as for everyone else—they could find out or not. She owed nothing to anyone.
“You’re smiling,” Gwyn observed.
“I had two secrets. Now I have none. I am free as the wind,” Diana said.
He took her face in his big hands. “My lady, my love,” he said. “We will ride the wind together.”
* * *
The music of the piano had been joined by the music of the flute, played—surprisingly enough—by Kieran. He wasn’t half-bad, Julian thought, as Simon joined the two of them, carrying his guitar. Maybe all three of them could start the world’s strangest band.
Emma and Cristina were dancing together, both laughing so hard they kept doubling over. Julian didn’t want to interrupt them: He knew their time together was precious before he and Emma left. He let himse
lf watch Emma for just a moment—she was lovely in the argent light of the torches, her hair and skin gleaming gold like wedding runes—before he made his way around the dancers, down to the wet sand where the incoming waves lapped the shoreline.
Ty and Dru stood close together there, Ty leaning in to explain to his younger sister what made the waves sparkle and glow. “Bioluminescence,” he was saying. “Tiny living animals in the ocean. They glow, like underwater fireflies.”
Dru peered doubtfully into the water. “I don’t see any animals.”
“They’re microscopic,” Ty said. He scooped up a handful of seawater; it shone in his hands, as if he were holding a spill of shimmering diamonds. “You can’t see them. You can only see the light they make.”
“I wanted to talk to you, Ty,” Julian said.
Ty looked up, his gaze fixed on a point just to the left of Julian’s face. Livvy’s locket glittered around his throat. He was starting to look older, Julian thought with a pang. The last of the childish roundness was gone from his face, his hands.
Dru gave them both a salute. “You guys talk. I’m going to see if Lily will teach me the Charleston.” She skipped off down the beach, scattering luminous sparks.
“Are you sure you’re all right with me leaving?” Julian said. “Emma and I, we don’t have to go.”
Ty knew, of course, that Julian was going on his travel year. It was no secret. But Ty was the most change-averse member of the family, and Julian couldn’t help worrying.
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.”
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