Queen of Air and Darkness (The Dark Artifices #3)

Jia waited patiently for the roar to die down into quiet. Even the Cohort were staring at her in puzzlement. “Look how full this Council Hall is,” she said. People twisted around in their seats to stare at the overflowing rows of seats, the hundreds of Projections in the back of the room. “You’re all here because over the past week, and especially since the battle, you have realized how urgent this situation always was. The Clave was nearly taken over by extremists who would have driven us into isolation and self-destruction. And everyone who stood back and allowed this to happen—through inattention, through apathy and overconfidence—” Her voice shook. “Well. We are all guilty. And therefore we will all vote, as a reminder that every voice counts, and when you choose not to use your voice, you are letting yourself be silenced.”

“But I still don’t see why criminals should vote!” yelled Jaime, who had apparently taken the “no matter their age” portion of the speech to heart.

“Because if they don’t,” said Diana, rising to her feet and addressing the room, “they will always be able to say that whoever the new Consul is, they were elected because the majority had no voice. The Cohort has always flourished by telling the lie that they speak for all Shadowhunters—that they say the words that everyone would speak if they could. Now we will test that lie. All Shadowhunters will speak. Including them.”

Jia assented gravely. “Miss Wrayburn is correct.”

“So what will be done with the prisoners, then?” called Kadir. “Will they walk among us, free?”

“The Cohort must be punished! They must be!” The voice was a raw scream. Emma turned and flinched; she felt Julian’s hand tighten on hers. It was Elena Larkspear. She was alone; her husband had not come to the meeting. She looked as haggard as if she had aged fifty years in the past week. “They used our children—as if they were trash—to do the things too filthy or dangerous for them to do! They murdered my daughter and my son! I demand reparations!”

She fell back into her seat with a dry sob, covering her face with her hands. Emma stared at the Cohort, her throat aching: even Zara was having a hard time wiping the look of horror off her face.

“They will not go unpunished,” said Jia gently. “They have been tested by the Mortal Sword and confessed to their crimes. They sent Dane Larkspear to murder other Shadowhunters, and were thus directly responsible for his death.” She inclined her head toward Elena. “They murdered Oskar Lindquist that a demon might take his place at a meeting held at the Los Angeles Institute. Led by Horace Dearborn, this group used lies and intimidation to try to lead the Clave into a false alliance with Faerie—”

“And now you people are trying to lead the Clave into an alliance with the new King—how is that different?” Zara shouted, rallying.

Emma whipped her head around to study the room. Many Shadowhunters looked angry or annoyed, but there were those who clearly didn’t disagree with Zara. Ugh.

A voice rang out clearly, stony and cold. Alec Lightwood’s. “Because open political engagement is very different from disavowing any relationship to Downworlders in public while conspiring to commit murder with them behind the backs of the people you’re meant to be governing.”

“The Cohort imprisoned loyal Nephilim and sent others to their deaths,” said Jia after a withering glance at Zara. “We were brought to the brink of civil war.” She looked out at the Clave. “You might think I want to punish them severely, strip their Marks and send them into the mundane world they so despise. But we must consider mercy. So many of the Cohort are young, and they were influenced by misinformation and outright lies. Here we can give them a chance to again rejoin the Clave and redeem themselves. To turn from the path of deceit and hate and walk once again in the light of Raziel.”

More murmurs. The members of the Cohort looked at each other in confusion. Some seemed relieved, some angrier than ever.

“After this meeting,” Jia went on, “the Cohort will be split up and sent to different Institutes. Several of the Institutes who attended Julian Blackthorn’s war council have offered to take in former Cohort members and show them a better way. They will have a chance to prove themselves before they return to the homeland.”

Now there was an eruption of chatter. Some shouted the punishment was lenient. Some shouted that it was cruel to “exile them from Alicante.” Jia stilled the shouting with a gesture.

“Any who are not in favor of this punishment, please raise your hand or voice. Manuel Villalobos, you are not allowed to vote on this issue.”

Zara pinned Manuel, whose hand was half-raised, with a scowl.

A few more hands were raised. Emma almost wanted to raise hers and to say that they deserved worse. But then, she had spared Zara’s life on the field, and the gesture had led to all of this: had led to the end of the battle, and her and Julian’s freedom.

Maybe Arthur had been right. Maybe mercy was better than revenge.

She kept her hand down, as did all the other Blackthorns. No one she knew well raised their hand, not even Diego or Jaime, who had good cause to hate Zara and her friends.

Jia looked relieved. “And now,” she said, “to the election of a new Consul.”

Jace was on his feet before she finished speaking. “I nominate Alec Lightwood.”

The Blackthorns clapped fiercely. Alec looked stunned and touched. Clary cheered, and the cheer spread—many in the room waved their hands in support, and Emma’s heart swelled. Jace could have reached out for the position of Consul had he wanted; he and Clary were beloved; either would win handily. But he had put Alec forward for it, because it was what Alec wanted—and because Jace knew Alec was the right choice.

Delaney Scarsbury rose to his feet, his face red. “I object. Alec Lightwood is much too young. He lacks experience and notoriously consorts with Downworlders.”

“You mean by heading up the Downworlder-Shadowhunter Alliance where his job is to consort with Downworlders?” called Julian.

“He does it in his free time as well, Blackthorn,” said Scarsbury with a nasty smile. Emma rather wished Magnus was there and could turn him into a toad, but Downworlders weren’t at the meeting. They had refused to be in the same room as the Cohort members, and Emma couldn’t blame them.

“You know what they mean,” called Zara. “He’s a filthy pervert. Jace should stand for Consul instead.”

“I am also a filthy pervert,” said Jace, “or at least I aspire to be. You have no idea what I get up to in my spare time. Just last week I asked Clary to buy me a—”

Clary pulled him down next to her and belabored him with her fists. He grinned.

“What about Patrick Penhallow?” someone shouted. “He knows what he’s doing!”

Patrick, seated in the front row, rose to his feet with a stony expression. “I will not stand as Consul,” he said. “My wife has given enough. My daughter has given enough. It is time for my family to be allowed some peace and rest.”

He sat down in dead silence.

Delaney Scarsbury said, “I nominate Lazlo Balogh.”

Real fear stabbed through Emma for the first time that day. She and Julian looked at each other, both remembering the same moment—Lazlo rising in the Hall of Accords to deliver the words that sent Helen into exile and abandoned Mark to the Hunt. Both Mark and Helen Blackthorn have the blood of faeries in them. We know the boy’s already joined up with the Wild Hunt, so he’s beyond us, but the girl shouldn’t be among Shadowhunters. It isn’t decent.

Those who hadn’t cheered for Alec’s nomination looked pleased, as did the Cohort. “He’d be an awful Consul,” Emma said to Julian. “He’d set everything back.”

“We don’t really have a better system,” said Julian. “All we can do is ask people what they want.”

“And hope they choose the right thing,” said Cristina.

“Alec would look much better on the money,” said Mark.

“We don’t put the Consul on the money,” said Julian. “And we don’t print money, anyway.”

“We could start doing both,” said Mark.

“Alec Lightwood has never even lived in Idris,” said Lazlo, rising up. “What does he know about governing our homeland?”

Alec rose to his feet. “My parents were exiled,” he said. “And most Shadowhunters don’t live in Idris—how will you govern them if you think the only Shadowhunters that matter live in Alicante?”

“Your parents were exiled because they were in the Circle!” snapped Balogh.