CITY OF ASHES

“I may be a lycanthrope,” said Luke, “but I’m also a Shadowhunter. I’m willing to be tried by the Sword, if that will help.”


By the Sword? That sounded bad. Clary looked over at Jace. He was outwardly calm, his fingers laced together in his lap, but there was a shuddering tension about him, as if he were a hairsbreadth from exploding. He caught her look and said, “The Soul-Sword. The second of the Mortal Instruments. It’s used in trials to determine if a Shadowhunter is lying.”

“You’re not a Shadowhunter,” said Maryse to Luke, as if Jace hadn’t spoken. “You haven’t lived by the Law of the Clave in a long, long time.”

“There was a time when you didn’t live by it either,” said Luke. High color flooded Maryse’s cheeks. “I would have thought,” he went on, “that by now you would have gotten past not being able to trust anyone, Maryse.”

“Some things you never forget,” she said. Her voice held a dangerous softness. “You think pretending his own death was the biggest lie Valentine ever told us? You think charm is the same as honesty? I used to think so. I was wrong.” She stood up and leaned on the table with her thin hands. “He told us he would lay down his life for the Circle and that he expected us to do the same. And we would have—all of us—I know it. I nearly did it.” Her gaze swept over Jace and Clary and her eyes locked with Luke’s. “You remember,” she said, “the way he told us that the Uprising would be nothing, hardly a battle, a few unarmed ambassadors against the full might of the Circle. I was so confident in our swift victory that when I rode out to Alicante, I left Alec at home in his cradle. I asked Jocelyn to watch my children while I was away. She refused. I know why now. She knew—and so did you. And you didn’t warn us.”

“I’d tried to warn you about Valentine,” said Luke. “You didn’t listen.”

“I don’t mean about Valentine. I mean about the Uprising! When we arrived, there were fifty of us against five hundred Downworlders—”

“You’d been willing to slaughter them unarmed when you thought there would be only five of them,” said Luke quietly.

Maryse’s hands clenched on the desk. “We were slaughtered,” she said. “In the midst of the carnage, we looked to Valentine to lead us. But he wasn’t there. By that time the Clave had surrounded the Hall of Accords. We thought Valentine had been killed, were ready to give our own lives in a final desperate rush. Then I remembered Alec—if I died, what would happen to my little boy?” Her voice caught. “So I laid my arms down and gave myself up to the Clave.”

“You did the right thing, Maryse,” said Luke.

She turned on him, eyes blazing. “Don’t patronize me, werewolf. If it weren’t for you—”

“Don’t yell at him!” Clary cut in, almost rising to her feet herself. “It’s your fault for believing Valentine in the first place—”

“You think I don’t know that?” There was a ragged edge to Maryse’s voice now. “Oh, the Clave made that point nicely when they questioned us—they had the Soul-Sword and they knew when we were lying, but they couldn’t make us talk—nothing could make us talk, until—”

“Until what?” It was Luke who spoke. “I’ve never known. I always wondered what they told you to make you turn on him.”

“Just the truth,” Maryse said, sounding suddenly tired. “That Valentine hadn’t died there in the Hall. He’d fled—left us there to die without him. He’d died later, we were told, burned to death in his house. The Inquisitor showed us his bones. Of course, that was another lie…” Her voice trailed off, and then she rallied again, her words crisp: “It was all coming apart by then, anyway. We were finally talking to one another, those of us in the Circle. Before the battle, Valentine had drawn me aside, told me that out of all the Circle, I was the one he trusted most, his closest lieutenant. When the Clave questioned us I found out he’d said the same thing to everyone.”

“Hell hath no fury,” Jace muttered, so quietly that only Clary heard him.

“He lied not just to the Clave but to us. He used our loyalty and our affection. Just as he did when he sent you to us,” Maryse said, looking directly at Jace now. “And now he’s back, and he has the Mortal Cup. He’s been planning all this for years, all along, all of it. I can’t afford to trust you, Jace. I’m sorry.”

Jace said nothing. His face was expressionless, but he’d gone paler as Maryse spoke, his new bruises standing out livid on his jaw and cheek.

“Then what?” Luke said. “What is it you expect him to do? Where is he supposed to go?”

Her eyes rested for a moment on Clary. “Why not to his sister?” she said. “Family—”

“Isabelle is Jace’s sister,” interrupted Clary. “Alec and Max are his brothers. What are you going to tell them? They’ll hate you forever if you throw Jace out of your house.”