CITY OF ASHES

The Queen’s high eyebrows were arched even higher. “More blood of the Folk?”


“No,” Jace said, shooting a look at Isabelle that Clary couldn’t quite interpret. “More Downworlder blood. He needs the blood of a werewolf, and a vampire—”

The Queen’s eyes shone with reflected light. “That seems hardly our concern.”

“He killed one of yours,” Isabelle said. “Don’t you want revenge?”

The Queen’s gaze brushed her like a moth’s wing. “Not immediately,” she said. “We are a patient folk, for we have all the time in the world. Valentine Morgenstern is an old enemy of ours—but we have enemies older still. We are content to wait and watch.”

“He’s summoning demons to him,” Jace said. “Creating an army—”

“Demons,” said the Queen lightly, as her courtiers chattered behind her. “Demons are your charge, are they not, Shadowhunter? Is that not why you hold authority over us all? Because you are the ones who slay demons?”

“I’m not here to give you orders on behalf of the Clave. We came when you asked us because we thought that if you knew the truth, you’d help us.”

“Is that what you thought?” The Queen sat forward in her chair, her long hair rippling and alive. “Remember, Shadowhunter, there are those of us who chafe under the rule of the Clave. Perhaps we are tired of fighting your wars for you.”

“But it isn’t our war alone,” said Jace. “Valentine hates Downworlders more than he hates demons. If he defeats us, he’ll go after you next.”

The Queen’s eyes bored into him.

“And when he does,” said Jace, “remember that it was a Shadowhunter who warned you what was coming.”

There was silence. Even the Court had fallen silent, watching their Lady. At last, the Queen leaned back on her cushions and took a swallow from a silver chalice. “Warning me about your own parent,” she said. “I had thought you mortals capable of filial affection, at least, and yet you seem to feel no loyalty toward Valentine, your father.”

Jace said nothing. He seemed, for a change, lost for words.

Sweetly, the Queen went on, “Or perhaps this hostility of yours is the pretense. Love does make liars out of your kind.”

“But we don’t love our father,” said Clary, as Jace remained frighteningly silent. “We hate him.”

“Do you?” The Queen looked almost bored.

“You know how the bonds of family are, my lady,” said Jace, recovering his voice. “They cling as tightly as vines. And sometimes, like vines, they cling tightly enough to kill.”

The Queen’s lashes fluttered. “You would betray your own father for the sake of the Clave?”

“Even so, Lady.”

She laughed, a sound as bright and cold as icicles. “Who would have thought,” she said, “that Valentine’s little experiments would turn on him?”

Clary looked at Jace, but she could see by the expression on his face that he had no idea what the Queen meant.

It was Isabelle who spoke. “Experiments?”

The Queen didn’t even glance at her. Her gaze, a luminous blue, was fixed on Jace. “The Fair Folk are a people of secrets,” she said. “Our own, and others’. Ask your father, when next you see him, what blood runs in your veins, Jonathan.”

“I hadn’t planned on asking him anything next time I see him,” Jace said. “But if you desire it, my lady, it will be done.”

The Queen’s lips curved into a smile. “I think you are a liar. But what a charming one. Charming enough that I will swear you this: Ask your father that question, and I will promise you what aid is in my power, should you strike against Valentine.”

Jace smiled. “Your generosity is as remarkable as your loveliness, Lady.”

Clary made a gagging noise, but the Queen looked pleased.

“And I think we’re done here now,” Jace added, rising from the cushions. He’d set his untouched drink down earlier, beside Isabelle’s. They all rose after him. Isabelle was already talking to Meliorn in the corner, by the vine door. He looked slightly hunted.

“A moment.” The Queen rose. “One of you must remain.”

Jace paused halfway to the door, and turned to face her. “What do you mean?”

She stretched out one hand to indicate Clary. “Once our food or drink passes mortal lips, the mortal is ours. You know that, Shadowhunter.”

Clary was stunned. “But I didn’t drink any of it!” She turned to Jace. “She’s lying.”

“Faeries don’t lie,” he said, confusion and dawning anxiety chasing each other across his face. He turned back to the Queen. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Lady.”

“Look to her fingers and tell me she didn’t lick them clean.”