“I know,” Kieran said. “I knew it when Gwyn came and told me I should be King. I knew what it would mean. Even what it would mean for me to be involved in the Court at all, as it seems I must be. The Clave wants to control access to the Courts. They always have. For two Shadowhunters they do not control to have the ear of the King would be anathema to them.”
“But, Kieran—” Cristina said.
“I am not a fool,” Kieran said. “I know when something is impossible.” His eyes were shields of metal: one tarnished, one new. “I have always been an unquiet soul. In my father’s Court, and then in the Hunt, I raged and stormed inside my heart.” He bent his head. “I knew when I met Mark that I had found the person who gave my soul peace. I did not think I would find that in anyone else again, but I have. If I could just sit here quietly with both of you before this gathering storm, it would mean a great deal to me.”
“And to me,” Cristina said. She held out her small hand and took one of Kieran’s gently. He raised his head as Mark took the other, and Mark and Cristina joined hands as well, completing the circle. None of them spoke: There was no need. It was enough to be together.
* * *
Emma still felt jittery when she walked into the kitchen in the morning, as if she’d drunk too many cups of the coffee she despised.
The hammer beat of Diana’s words in Thule echoed in her head. She hadn’t gone to Julian last night to tell him about Zara but had reluctantly woken up Helen and Aline to warn them instead. Then she’d headed back to the training room, in the hopes that kicking and punching and falling onto the hard mats on the floor would make her forget about the burning of her rune. About the parabatai of Thule. About the words of the Queen.
Later, when she’d fallen asleep, she’d dreamed about the parabatai rune in the Silent City, and about blood on the hilt of Cortana, and a ruined city where monstrous giants stalked the horizon. She still felt uneasy, as if she were half-trapped in nightmares.
She was glad to see the kitchen full of people. In fact, there were far too many to fit into the small eating area. Someone had had the brilliant idea of supplementing the existing table with an overturned weapons crate from the training room, and folding chairs had been dragged in from all over the house.
She’d been worried the morning would be grim as everyone rushed around getting ready to invade Alicante. She couldn’t help but feel resentful that she and Julian wouldn’t be going. It was their fight too. Besides, she needed the distraction. The last thing she wanted was to be left in the Institute with Julian and minimal supervision.
But the assembled group seemed anything but grim. If not for the space where Livvy should have been, the scene was almost perfect—Helen and Aline smiling at the kids over their coffee mugs. Mark between Kieran and Cristina, as if Mark had never been torn away from his family in the first place. Jace and Clary visiting the way the family had never really been able to have casual visitors when Arthur was in charge. Kit being the missing piece they had never known Ty needed, stealing a potato from Ty’s plate and making him smile. Diana radiating her steady calm, bringing a level head to a family prone to dramatics. Even Kieran, who seemed to make both Mark and Cristina happier when he was around, had folded into the group at last: He was showing Tavvy and Dru the joys of dunking strawberries in maple syrup.
And Julian, of course, standing over the kitchen range, flipping pancakes with the ease of an expert.
“One pancake at a time, Tavvy,” Helen was saying. “Yes, I know you can get three in your mouth, but that doesn’t mean you should.”
Emma’s eyes met Julian’s. She saw the tension in his shoulders, his mouth, as he looked at her. Be normal, she thought. This is a happy, ordinary meal with family.
“You made pancakes?” she said, keeping her tone cheerful. “What brought that on?”
“Sometimes when you start a war, you want to make pancakes,” Julian said, slipping two pancakes onto a plate and holding it out to Emma.
Jace choked on his toast. “What did you say, Julian?”
Julian glanced up at the clock that hung over the kitchen range. He flicked off the gas burner and began to calmly untie his apron. “They should be getting here any moment,” he said.
“They should what?” Diana put her fork down. “Julian, what are you talking about?”
Tavvy was standing up on a wobbly chair, his face pressed to the window. He made an excited squeaking noise. “Who are all the people coming up the road, Jules?”
Kit and Ty immediately jumped to their feet and scrambled for a window view. “I see faeries—” Ty said. “I think those are werewolves—those black cars have to be vampires—”
“And Shadowhunters,” said Kit. “So many Shadowhunters—”
“The Sanctuary’s almost ready,” said Julian, throwing down a dish towel. “Unless someone else wants to do it, I’ll go downstairs and greet our guests.”
Jace stood up. Clary looked up at him in concern: His golden eyes were flat with anger. “I’m not going to ask you a second time, Julian Blackthorn,” he said, and his usually amused voice had no amusement in it at all. “What did you do?”
Julian leaned his hip against the counter. Emma realized with a shock that though he did look much younger, he was just as tall as Jace. “Remember when you said my coalition idea was a bad one because we couldn’t trust other Shadowhunters to be telling us the truth about their loyalties?”
“Vividly,” said Jace. “But I gather you invited everyone to a war council anyway?”
“They’re here right now?” Clary sputtered. “But—I’m wearing a T-shirt that says ‘Unicorn Power’—”
“There are no such things as unicorns,” Jace said.
“I know,” Clary said. “That’s why it’s funny.”
“To return to the issue of betrayal—” Jace began.
“What if I told you I expected betrayal?” said Julian. “In fact, that I was counting on it? That it was part of my plan?”
“What plan?” said Jace.
“I always have a plan,” said Julian calmly.
Dru lifted her coffee cup. “It’s great to have you back, Jules. I missed your lunatic schemes.”
Helen was on her feet now. Aline appeared to be trying not to giggle. “How did you invite them all here?” Helen said. “How would you even have gotten in touch with so many Downworlders and Nephilim, and so quickly?”
“I corresponded with them all for years,” Julian said. “I know how to send fire-messages to warlocks and Shadowhunters, and acorn messages to Faerie, and the telephone numbers of every important vamp and werewolf. I knew how to reach the Downworlder-Shadowhunter Alliance. I had to know those things. For five years, it was my job.”
“But didn’t you usually write to them as Arthur, before?” said Helen, clearly worried. “Who did you pretend to be this time?”
“I wrote as myself,” said Julian. “I know these people. I know their personalities. I know which of them will be on our side. I’ve been the Head of the Institute here for years. I called on my allies, because it’s been my job to know who my allies are.” His voice was quiet, but firm. There was nothing disrespectful in what he’d said, but Emma knew what he meant: I’ve been a diplomat for years now, unknown and unacknowledged. But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t skilled at it. I’ve put those skills to use—whether you like it or not.
“We can’t fight the Cohort alone,” he added. “They’re part of us. Part of our government. They’re not an outside threat like Sebastian was. We need these allies. You’ll see.”
And then he looked at Emma, as if he couldn
’t help it. The message in his eyes was clear. Though she was reeling from the shock of what he’d done, he was hoping for her approval. As he always had.
She felt a burning pulse through her parabatai rune. She winced, glanced down at her left arm: Her skin felt hot and tight, but the rune looked normal. It had just been a look, she thought. That was all.
“I’ll help finish setting up the Sanctuary for the meeting,” she said. “We’ll need chairs—”
Kieran got to his feet, pushing sea-blue hair behind his ears. “I will also help,” he said. “I thank you on behalf of my people for calling Downworlders to the table as equals. You are right. None of us can do this alone.”
Diana stood up. “I will send a message to Gwyn,” she said. “I know he will be pleased to come, and you will have the Wild Hunt on your side.”
It was Cristina’s turn to rise. “Did you reach out to the Mexico City Institute?”
“Yes,” said Julian. “Your mother said she’d be pleased to attend.”
Cristina looked alarmed. “I have to go change my clothes,” she said, and fled.
The younger Blackthorns watched with wide eyes as Jace held up his hand. Emma tensed. Jace was a powerful Shadowhunter—not just physically but politically. He and Clary could upset every facet of this plan if they wanted.
“Did you invite Magnus and Alec?” he said. “Do they know our plans have changed?”
Our plans. Emma began to relax.
“Of course,” said Julian. “I invited everyone I thought would be on our side. And I told everyone I invited they could reach out to others they trusted.”
“This is probably a bad idea,” Jace said. “Like, a record-breakingly bad idea. Like a go-down-in-history bad idea. But—”
Clary bounced to her feet. “What he means is, we’re in,” she said. “We love bad ideas.”
“That’s true,” Jace admitted, a smile breaking over his face. Suddenly he looked seventeen again.
Aline was the last to rise. “Technically, this is my Institute,” she said. “We do what I say.” She paused. “And I do what Helen wants. What do you want, baby?”