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

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” said Magnus.

“When I found you, I didn’t know what I was finding,” Alec said. “Words about things that are beautiful and precious to me don’t come easily. You know that. You know me better than anyone.” He licked his dry lips. “And when one day people look back on me and what my life meant, I don’t want them to say, ‘Alec Lightwood fought in the Dark War’ or even ‘Alec Lightwood was Consul once.’ I want them to think, ‘Alec Lightwood loved one man so much he changed the world for him.’?”

Magnus’s eyes shone bright as stars. He gazed at Alec with eyes full of joy, of a feeling so profound Alec felt humbled to be a part of it. “You know you’ve already changed the world for me.”

“Will you marry me?” Alec whispered. His heart was beating like a frantic bird’s wings. “Right now? Tonight?”

Magnus nodded wordlessly and pulled Alec to his feet. They wrapped their arms around each other, and Alec leaned up just that little bit, since Magnus was just that little bit taller, which he had always loved.

And they kissed for a long time.

*

The beach was a hive of activity. The sun had gone down, but the sky still glowed an opaline blue. Simon and Jace were setting out a wooden platform on the sand, where the view of the coastline was best. Julian and Emma were lighting candles around the platform, Clary, who had changed into a blue dress, was scattering flowers, Ragnor and Catarina were arguing while plates of delicious-looking food were summoned up to weigh down the already creaking tables. Isabelle was stuffing Max and Rafe into adorable outfits trimmed in gold and blue while Max wailed and Rafe looked resigned.

Helen and Aline were helping the younger Blackthorns place their golden runes of commitment and love, faith and grace. Cristina, runed at her wrists and throat, had volunteered to help line the beach with torches. She hummed as she worked, surrounded by Shadowhunters and Downworlders laughing together. She knew there would be difficult times coming, that the Clave-in-exile would have no simple time of it. Alec would have difficult decisions in front of him; they all would. But this one moment, these preparations, felt like a moment of happiness enclosed in a bubble, safe from the harshness of reality.

“Take this.” With a smile, Kieran pressed a torch into her hand; he had set himself to work alongside all the others as if he were not the King of the Unseelie Court. In the dusk, his hair looked as black as his clothes.

“And I have more.” Mark, barefoot and starlight-haired, placed several more torches in the sand opposite Cristina’s. As they settled, they began to burn with a dim light that would soon grow stronger: they were weaving a path of fire across the beach, to the sea.

“Kieran,” Cristina said, and he glanced at her through the torches, his expression curious. She wasn’t sure if she should ask him, but she couldn’t help it. “I sent our message to Adaon ages ago and we didn’t hear anything back. Did it take you a long time to decide what to do?”

“No,” he said firmly. “Adaon did not tell me immediately that you had sent him a message. I was unaware you had contacted him. I was trying to forget the two of you—I was trying to be a good King, and to learn how to live a meaningful life without you.” A stripe of his hair turned silver-blue. “It was awful. I hated every minute of it. Finally, when I could stand it no more, I went to Adaon and asked if he would be willing to trade places with me. He refused, but that was when he offered me the cottage.”

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.