“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.”
Dru tried to picture Maryse young, and couldn’t quite. She seemed old to Dru to even be a mom, though she knew she wasn’t. She was actually quite a young grandmother, but Dru had gotten used to people who looked like Julian and Helen being like mothers and fathers to her.
“They always did come back, though,” Maryse said. “And so will your family. I know it feels like what Julian is doing is risky, but he’s smart. Horace won’t try anything dangerous in front of so many people.”
“I should go to sleep,” Dru said in a small voice, and Maryse sighed, gave her an understanding nod, and closed the door. If she were home, a small voice said in the back of Dru’s mind, she wouldn’t have had to ask for anything—Helen, who knew she loved tea but that the caffeine kept her up, would have come in with a mug of the special decaffeinated blend they’d bought in England, with milk and honey in the mug the way Dru liked it.
She missed Helen, Dru realized. It was a weird feeling—somewhere along the way her resentment toward Helen had vanished. Now she just wished she’d said a better good-bye to her older sister before she’d left the Institute.
Maybe it was better that she hadn’t said the right kind of good-byes to her family. Maybe it meant she was definitely going to see them again.
Maybe it meant they’d be more forgiving when they found out what she was planning to do.
The light blinked out in the hall; Maryse must be going to sleep. Dru threw off her blanket; she was fully dressed underneath, down to her boots and gear jacket. She slid out of bed and went over to the circular window; it was stuck shut, but she’d been expecting that. Taking a small dagger with an adamas blade out of her pocket, she started to jimmy it open.
* * *
Kit lay awake in the darkness, counting the stars he could see through the open flap of the tent.
Emma and Julian had said the stars in Faerie were different, but here in Idris they were the same. The same constellations he had looked at all his life, peeking through the smog above Los Angeles, shone above Brocelind Forest. The air was clear here, clear as cut crystal, and the stars seemed almost alarmingly close, as if he could reach out and catch one in his hand.
Ty hadn’t come back with him from the campfire. Kit didn’t know where he was. Had he gone to talk to Jules or Helen? Was he wandering in the forest? No, Simon and Isabelle would have stopped him. But maybe Ty had found an animal he liked in the campsite. Kit’s mind started to race. Where is he? Why didn’t he take me with him? What if he can’t tame these squirrels the way he can the ones at home? What if he’s attacked by squirrels?
With a groan, Kit kicked off his covers and reached for a jacket.
Ty stuck his head into the tent, momentarily blotting out the stars. “Oh good, you’re already getting ready.”
Kit lowered his voice. “What do you mean, I’m getting ready? Ready for what?”
Ty dropped into a crouch and peered into the tent. “To go to the lake.”
“Ty,” said Kit. “I need you to explain. Don’t assume I know what you’re talking about.”
Ty exhaled with enough force to make his dark fringe of hair flutter above his forehead. “I brought the spell with me, and all the ingredients,” he said. “The best place to raise the dead is by water. I thought we’d do it next to the ocean, but Lake Lyn’s even better. It’s already a magic place.”
Kit blinked dizzily; he felt as if he’d woken up from a nightmare only to discover he was still dreaming. “But we don’t have what we need to make the spell work. Shade never gave us the catalyst.”
“I thought he might not do it,” said Ty. “That’s why I picked up an alternate energy source last time we were at the Shadow Market.” He reached into his pocket and took out a clear glass ball the size of an apricot. Red-orange flame blazed inside it as if it were a small, fiery planet, though it was clearly cool to the touch.
Kit jerked back. “Where did that come from?”
“I told you—the Shadow Market.”
Kit felt a wave of panic. “Who sold it to you? How do we even know it’ll work?”
“It has to.” Ty slipped the crystal back into his pocket. “Kit. This is something I have to do. If there’s a battle tomorrow, you know we’re not going to be part of it. They think we’re too young to fight. This is the way that I can help that isn’t fighting. If I bring Livvy back, our family will be whole for the battle. It will mean that everyone will be happy again.”
But happiness isn’t that simple, Kit wanted to cry; you can’t rip it apart and put it back together again without seeing the seams.
Kit’s voice was ragged. “It’s dangerous, Ty. It’s too dangerous. I don’t think it’s a good idea to mess around with this kind of magic, with an unknown power source.”
Ty’s expression closed down. It was like watching a door shut. “I’ve already scouted for traps. I know how we can get there. I thought you would come with me, but even if you don’t, I’m going to go alone.”
Kit’s mind raced. I could wake up the camp and get Ty in trouble, he thought. Julian would stop him. I know he would.
But Kit’s whole mind revolted at the idea; if there was one thing his father had brought him up to understand, it was that everybody hated a snitch.
And besides, he couldn’t bear the look on Ty’s face.
“All right,” Kit said, feeling dread settle in his stomach like a rock. “I’ll go with you.”
* * *
Shapes danced in the heart of the fire. Emma sat on a log nearby, her hands thrust into the sleeves of her oversize sweater to keep them warm. The group had drifted away from the fire when the meal was done, retiring to their individual tents to sleep. Emma stayed where she was, watching the fire die down; she supposed she could have gone back to her own tent, but Cristina
wasn’t there, and Emma didn’t feel much like lying alone in the dark.
She glanced up as a shadow approached. It was Julian. She recognized him by the way he walked, even before the firelight illuminated his face—hand in his pocket, his shoulders relaxed and his chin upturned. Deceptively casual. The damp in the cool air had curled his hair against his cheeks and temples.
Julian hid so many things, from so many people. Now for the first time she was hiding something from him. Was this how he had always felt? This weight in his chest, the pinching pain at his heart?
She half-expected him to pass by her without speaking, but he paused, his fingers toying with the sea-glass bracelet on his wrist.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice low.
Emma nodded.
Sparks from the fire reflected in Julian’s blue eyes. “I know we shouldn’t talk to each other,” he said. “But we need to discuss something with someone. It’s not about you or me.”
I can’t do it, Emma thought. You don’t understand. You still think we could get my Marks stripped if things went wrong.
But then again—her rune hadn’t burned since they’d left Los Angeles. The black webbing on her forearm hadn’t grown. It was as if her misery were holding the curse back. Maybe it was.
“Who’s it about?”
“It’s about one of the things we learned in Thule,” he said. “It’s about Diana.”
* * *