City of Heavenly Fire

The corridor wasn’t as long as Clary had thought. Its darkness had made the distance seem impossible, but they had only been walking for a half hour or so when they broke out from the shadows and into a larger, lighted space.

They had been walking in silence and darkness, Clary lost in her thoughts—memories of the house she and Sebastian and Jace had shared, of the sound of the Wild Hunt roaring across the sky, of that piece of paper with the words “my beautiful one” on it. That hadn’t been romance; that had been respect. The Seelie Queen, the beautiful one. The Queen likes to be on the winning side of things, Clary, and that side will be ours, Sebastian had said to her once; even when she had reported that to the Clave, she had taken it as part of his bluster. She had believed along with the Council that the Fair Folk’s word that they were loyal was enough, that the Queen would at least wait to see which way the wind blew before she broke any alliances. She thought of the catch in Jace’s breath when he’d said a betrayal long-planned. Maybe none of them had considered it because they hadn’t been able to bear considering it: that the Queen would be so sure of Sebastian’s eventual victory that she would hide him in Faerie, where he could not be tracked. That she would help him in battle. Clary thought of the earth opening at the Adamant Citadel and taking Sebastian and the Endarkened down into it; that had been faerie magic: The Courts lay underground, after all. Why else had the Dark Shadowhunters who had attacked the Los Angeles Institute taken Mark Blackthorn? Everyone had assumed Sebastian was afraid of the vengeance of the Fair Folk, but he wasn’t. He was in league with them. He had taken Mark because he had faerie blood, and because of that blood, they thought Mark belonged to them.

In all her life she had never thought so much as she had in the past six months about blood and what it meant. Nephilim blood bred true; she was a Shadowhunter. Angel blood: It made her what she was, gifted her with the power of runes. It made Jace what he was, made him strong and fast and brilliant. Morgenstern blood: She had it, and so did Sebastian, and that was why he cared about her at all. It gave her a dark heart too, or did it? Was it Sebastian’s blood—Morgenstern and demon, mixed—that made him a monster, or could he have been changed, fixed, made better, taught otherwise, as the Lightwoods had taught Jace?

“Here we are,” said the Seelie Queen, and her voice was amused. “Can you guess the right road?”

They stood in a massive cave, the roof lost in shadow. The walls glowed with a phosphorescent shine, and four roads branched off from where they stood: the one behind them, and three others. One was clear and broad and smooth, leading directly ahead of them. The one on the left shone with green leaves and bright flowers, and Clary thought she saw the glimmer of blue sky in the distance. Her heart longed to go that way. And the last way, the darkest, was a narrow tunnel, the entrance wound about with spiked metal, and thornbushes lining the sides. Clary thought she could see darkness and stars at the end.

Alec laughed shortly. “We’re Shadowhunters,” he said. “We know the old tales. This is the Three Roads.” At Clary’s puzzled look he said, “Faeries don’t like their secrets to get out, but sometimes human musicians have been able to encode faerie secrets into ancient ballads. There’s one called ‘Thomas the Rhymer,’ about a man who was kidnapped by the Queen of Faerie—”

“Hardly kidnapped,” objected the Queen. “He came quite willingly.”

“And she took him to a place where three roads lay, and told him that one went to Heaven, and one went to Faerieland, and one went to Hell. ‘And see ye not that narrow road, so thick beset with thorns and briars? That is the path of righteousness, though after it but few inquires.’?” Alec pointed toward the narrow tunnel.

“It goes to the mundane world,” said the Queen sweetly. “Your folk find it heavenly enough there.”

“That’s how Sebastian got to the Adamant Citadel, and had warriors backing him up that the Clave couldn’t see,” said Jace in disgust. “He used this tunnel. He had warriors hanging back here in Faerie, where they couldn’t be tracked. They came through when he needed them.” He gave the Queen a dark look. “Many Nephilim are dead because of you.”

“Mortals,” said the Queen. “They die.”

Alec ignored her. “There,” he said, pointing to the leafy tunnel. “That goes farther into Faerie. And that”—he pointed ahead—“is the road to Hell. That’s where we’re going.”

“I always heard it was paved with good intentions,” said Simon.

“Place your feet upon the way and find out, Daylighter,” said the Queen.