Lord of Shadows (The Dark Artifices, #2)

“She had no choice,” said Diana. “If she’d had warning of what was coming, I’d like to think it would have turned out differently. This time, she’ll have that warning. Besides—we have something to offer her now.”

“That’s right,” said Julian, gesturing at Kieran. “The end of the Cold Peace. A faerie messenger from the Queen of Seelie.”

Evelyn, who had been napping by the fire, bolted upright. “That is enough.” She glared daggers at Kieran. “I can accept a Blackthorn into this house, even one with a questionable bloodline. I will always accept a Blackthorn. But a full-blood faerie? Listening to the business of Nephilim? I will not allow it.”

Kieran looked briefly startled. Then he rose to his feet. Mark began to rise too. Julian stayed exactly where he was. “But Kieran is part of our plan—”

“Stuff and nonsense. Bridget!” she called, and the maid, who had clearly been lurking in the corridor, stuck her head into the room. “Please lead the princeling to one of the spare bedrooms. I will have your word, faerie, that you will not depart it until you are allowed.”

Kieran looked at Cristina. “What is your desire, my lady?”

Kit was baffled. Why was Kieran, a prince of the gentry, taking orders from Cristina?

She blushed. “You don’t need to swear you won’t leave the room,” she said. “I trust you.”

“Do you?” Emma said, sounding fascinated, as Kieran gave a stiff bow and departed.

Bridget’s muttering could be heard by all as she led Kieran out the door. “Faeries in the Institute,” she muttered. “Ghosts is one thing, warlocks is another thing, but never in all my born days—”

Drusilla looked puzzled. “Why is Kieran here?” she said, as soon as he was gone. “I thought we hated him. Like, mostly hated him. I mean, he did save our lives, but he’s still a jerk.”

There was a murmur of voices. Kit remembered something he’d overhead Livvy say to Dru a day or two ago. More pieces of the Kieran puzzle: Livvy had been angry that Mark would go to Faerie to help someone who had hurt him. Had hurt Emma and Julian. Kit didn’t know exactly what had happened, but it had clearly been bad.

Emma had moved to sit on the couch beside Cristina. She’d arrived wearing a pale gossamer dress that looked like something Kit would have seen in the Shadow Market. It made her look delicate and graceful, but Kit remembered the steel in her, the way she’d sliced apart the praying mantis demons in his house with all the calm of a bride cutting slices of wedding cake.

Julian was quietly listening to his family talk. Even though he wasn’t looking at Emma, an almost visible energy crackled between them. Kit remembered the way Emma had said this isn’t Julian’s kind of place to his father—one of the first things he’d heard her say, in the Market—and the way her voice had seemed to hug the syllables of his name.

Parabatai were strange. So close, and yet it wasn’t a marriage, yet it was more than a best friendship. There was no real analogue in the mundane world. And it drew him, the idea of it, of being connected to someone like that, the way all the dangerous and beautiful things of the Shadowhunter world drew him.

Maybe Ty . . .

Julian stood up, setting Tavvy down in an armchair. He stretched out his arms, cracking the sinews in his wrists. “The thing is, we need Kieran,” he said.

Evelyn snorted. “Imagine needing a faerie lord,” she said. “For anything.”

Julian whispered something in Tavvy’s ear. A moment later he was on his feet. “Miss Highsmith,” he said. “My little brother is exhausted, but he says he doesn’t know where his bedroom is. Can you show him?”

Evelyn looked irritably from Julian to Tavvy, who smiled angelically at her, showing off his dimples. “Can’t you escort the child?”

“I’ve only just arrived,” said Julian. “I don’t know where the room is.” He added his own smile to Tavvy’s. Julian could radiate charm when he wanted to; Kit had nearly forgotten.

Evelyn looked around to see if there were any volunteers to take over for her; no one moved. Finally, with a disgusted snort, she snapped her fingers at Tavvy, said, “Well, come on then, child,” and stalked from the room with him in tow.

Julian’s smile turned crooked. Kit couldn’t help the feeling that Julian had used Evelyn to get rid of Kieran, and Tavvy to get rid of Evelyn, and done it so handily no one could ever prove it.

If Julian had ever wanted to turn his hand to cons and crime, Kit thought, he would have excelled at it.

“We need Kieran to bargain with the Clave,” said Julian, as if nothing had happened. “When we found him in Faerie, his father was about to have him killed. He escaped, but he’ll never be safe as long as the Unseelie King sits on the throne.” He ran his hands through his hair restlessly; Kit wondered how Julian kept it all in his head: plans, plots, concealments, truths.

“And the Queen wants the King off the throne,” said Emma. “She’s willing to help us replace him with Kieran’s brother, but Kieran had to promise to convince him.”

“Kieran’s brother would be better than the King they have right now?” asked Dru.

“He would be better,” Emma confirmed. “Believe it or not.”

“Kieran will also testify in front of the Council,” said Julian. “He will bring the Queen’s message that she’s willing to ally with us to defeat the King. He can confirm for the Council what the King is doing in the Unseelie Lands—”

“But you could tell them that,” said Kit.

“If we wanted to risk the wrath of the Clave for having ventured into Faerie,” Julian said. “Not to mention that while we might get out of that, there will be no forgiveness for our having entered into a bargain with the Seelie Queen.”

Kit had to admit Julian was right. He knew how much trouble the Blackthorns had nearly gotten in for bargaining with the faerie convoy who had returned Mark to them. The Seelie Queen was a whole other level of forbidden. It was like getting a slap on the wrist for running a red light and then coming back the next day and blowing up the whole street.

“Kieran’s your get-out-of-jail-free card,” he said.

“It’s not just about us,” said Emma. “If the Council will listen to him, it could end the Cold Peace. In fact, it would have to. They’ll have to believe him—he can’t lie—and if the Queen is willing to fight the Unseelie King with the Clave, I don’t think they’ll be able to turn that down.”

“Which means we have to keep Kieran safe,” said Julian. “We also have to do what we can not to antagonize him.”

“Because he’s doing this for Mark?” said Dru.

“But Mark broke up with him,” said Livvy, and then looked around, alarmed. Her ponytail brushed Kit’s shoulder. “Is that something I wasn’t supposed to say?”

“No,” Mark said. “It’s the truth. But—Kieran doesn’t remember. When the Unseelie Court tortured him, he lost some of his memories. He doesn’t recall bringing the envoy to the Institute, or Emma and Julian being whipped, or what danger he put us all in with his haste and anger.” He looked down at his intertwined hands. “And he must not be told.”

“But—Emma,” said Livvy. “Are we supposed to pretend that she and Mark aren’t . . . ?”

Kit leaned close to Ty. Ty smelled like ink and wool. “I don’t understand any of this.”

“Neither do I,” Ty whispered back. “It’s very complicated.”

“Mark and I,” Emma, said, looking very steadily at Mark. “We broke up.”

Kit wondered if Mark had known that. He wasn’t able to hide the look of astonishment on his face. “It just didn’t work out,” Emma went on. “So it’s all right, whatever Mark needs to do.”

“They’re broken up?” Livvy whispered. Ty shrugged, baffled. Livvy had gone tense and was glancing from Emma to Mark, clearly worried.