Much later—too late—it would occur to Robert that Valentine probably had some version of this conversation with each member of the Circle. Secrets bound people together, and Valentine was smart enough to know it.
“He’s my parabatai,” Robert pointed out. “I don’t keep secrets from him.”
Valentine’s eyebrows shot sky-high. “And you think he keeps no secrets from you?”
Robert remembered the night before, whatever it was Michael had been trying so hard not to say. That was one secret—who knew how many more there were?
“You know Michael better than anyone,” Valentine said. “And yet, I imagine there are things I know about him that might surprise you. . . .”
A silence hung between them as Robert considered it.
Valentine didn’t lie, or issue empty boasts. If he said he knew something about Michael, something secret, then it was true.
And it was temptation, dangling here before Robert.
He needed only to ask.
He wanted to know; he didn’t want to know.
“We all have competing loyalties,” Valentine said, before Robert could give in to temptation. “The Clave would like to make these things simple, but it’s just another example of their obtuseness. I love Lucian, my parabatai. I love Jocelyn. If those two loves were ever to come into conflict . . .”
He didn’t have to complete the thought. Robert knew what Valentine knew, and understood that Valentine loved his parabatai enough to allow it. Just as Lucian loved Valentine enough never to act on it.
Maybe some secrets were a mercy.
He held out his hand to Valentine. “You have my word. My oath. Michael will never know about this.”
As soon as the words were out, he wondered if he’d made a mistake. But there was no going back.
“I know your secret too, Robert,” Valentine said.
At this, an echo of the first words Valentine had ever said to him, Robert felt the ghost of a smile.
“I think we covered that,” Robert reminded him.
“You’re a coward,” Valentine said.
Robert flinched. “How can you say that after everything we’ve been through? You know I would never shy away from a battle or—”
Valentine shook his head, silencing him. “Oh, I don’t mean physically. We’ve taken care of that, haven’t we? When it comes to taking on physical risk, you’re the bravest there is. Overcompensating, perhaps?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Robert said stiffly—afraid he knew all too well.
“You’re not afraid of death or injury, Robert. You’re afraid of yourself and your own weakness. You lack faith—you lack loyalty—because you lack the strength of your own convictions. And it’s my own fault for expecting more. After all, how can you be expected to believe in anything or anyone if you don’t believe in yourself?”
Robert felt suddenly transparent, and didn’t much like it.
“I once tried to teach you to master your fear and your weakness,” Valentine said. “I see now that was a mistake.”
Robert hung his head, waiting for Valentine to cast him out of the Circle. Exile him from his friends and his duty. Ruin his life.
Ironic that it was his own cowardice that had made his worst fears come true.
But Valentine surprised him. “I’ve given the matter some thought, and I have a proposition for you,” Valentine said.
“What is it?” He was afraid to hope.
“Give up,” Valentine said. “Stop trying to pretend away your cowardice, your doubt. Stop trying to ignite some unshakable passion in yourself. If you can’t find the courage of your convictions, why not simply accept the courage of mine?”
“I don’t understand.”
“My proposition is this,” Valentine said. “Stop worrying so much about whether or not you’re sure. Let me be sure for you. Rely on my certainty, on my passion. Let yourself be weak, and lean on me, because we both know I can be strong. Accept that you’re doing the right thing because I know it to be the right thing.”
The Evil We Love (Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy, #5)
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