The Evil We Love (Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy, #5)

For most of his time at the Academy, Robert had watched Valentine from a distance. Even though Robert was older, he looked up to Valentine, who was everything Robert wanted to be. Valentine excelled at his training without visible effort. He could best anyone with any weapon. He was careless with his affection, or at least seemed to be, and he was beloved. Not many people noticed how few he truly loved back. But Robert noticed, because when you’re watching from the sidelines, invisible, it’s easy to see clearly.

It never occurred to him that Valentine was watching him, too.

Not until the day, toward the beginning of this year, that Valentine caught him alone in one of the Academy’s dark, underground corridors and said quietly, “I know your secret.”

Robert’s secret, that he told nobody, not even Michael: He was still afraid of the Marks.

Every time he drew a rune on himself, he had to hold his breath, force his fingers not to tremble. He always hesitated. In class, it was barely noticeable. In battle, it could be the split-second difference between life and death, and Robert knew it. Which made him hesitate even more, at everything. He was strong, smart, talented; he was a Lightwood. He should have been among the best. But he couldn’t let himself go and act on instinct. He couldn’t stop his mind from racing toward potential consequences. He couldn’t stop being afraid—and he knew, eventually, it would be the end of him.

“I can help you,” Valentine said then. “I can teach you what to do with the fear.” As if it were simple as that—and under Valentine’s careful instruction, it was.

Valentine had taught him to retreat to a place in his mind that the fear couldn’t touch. To separate himself from the Robert Lightwood who knew how to be afraid—and then to tame that weaker, loathed version of himself. “Your weakness makes you furious, as it should,” Valentine had told him. “Use the fury to master it—and then everything else.”

In a way Valentine had saved Robert’s life. Or at least, the only part of his life that mattered.

He owed Valentine everything.

He at least owed Valentine the truth.

“You don’t agree with what I did,” Valentine said quietly as the sun crept above the horizon. Michael and Stephen were still asleep. Robert had passed the hours of darkness staring at the sky, sifting through what had happened, and what he should do next.

“You think I was out of control,” Valentine added.

“That wasn’t self-defense,” Robert said. “That was torture. Murder.”

Robert was seated on one of the logs around the remains of their campfire. Valentine lowered himself beside him.

“You heard the things it said. You understand why it had to be silenced,” Valentine said. “It had to be taught its lesson, and the Clave couldn’t have mustered the will. I know the others wouldn’t understand. Not even Lucian. But you . . . we understand each other, you and I. You’re the only one I can really trust. I need you to keep this to yourself.”

“If you’re so sure you did the right thing, then why keep it a secret?”

Valentine laughed gently. “Always so skeptical, Robert. It’s what we all love most about you.” His smile faded. “Some of the others are starting to have doubts. About the cause, about me—” He waved away Robert’s denials before they could be voiced. “Don’t think I can’t tell. Everyone wants to be loyal when it’s easy. But when things get difficult . . .” He shook his head. “I can’t count on everyone I would like to count on. But I believe I can count on you.”

“Of course you can.”

“Then you’ll keep what passed this night a secret from the others,” Valentine said. “Even from Michael.”