“The Scholomance was reestablished,” said Julian. Wavy strands of his hair, dark and glossy, fell against his cheek as he lifted his head. “It existed before the first Accords were signed, and when the Council was betrayed by faeries, they insisted on opening it again. The Scholomance does research, trains Centurions . . .”
“Think of what it must have been like in the Scholomance for all those years it was closed,” said Dru, her eyes gleaming with horror-movie delight. “All the way up in the mountains, totally abandoned and dark, full of spiders and ghosts and shadows . . .”
“If you want to think about somewhere scary, think about the Bone City,” said Livvy. The City of Bones was where the Silent Brothers lived: It was an underground place of networked tunnels built out of the ashes of dead Shadowhunters.
“I’d like to go to the Scholomance,” interrupted Ty.
“I wouldn’t,” said Livvy. “Centurions aren’t allowed to have parabatai.”
“I’d like to go anyway,” said Ty. “You could come too if you wanted.”
“I don’t want to go to the Scholomance,” said Livvy. “It’s in the middle of the Carpathian Mountains. It’s freezing there, and there are bears.”
Ty’s face lit up as it often did at the mention of animals. “There are bears?”
“Enough chatter,” said Diana. “When was the Scholomance reopened?”
Cristina, who had the seat closest to the window, raised her hand to interrupt. “There’s someone coming up the path to the front door,” she said. “Several someones, in fact.”
Emma glanced over at Jules again. It was rare that anyone paid an unscheduled visit to the Institute. There were only a few people who might, and even most of the members of the Conclave would have made an appointment with Arthur. Then again, maybe someone did have an appointment with Arthur. Though by the look on Julian’s face, if they did, it was one he didn’t know about.
Cristina, who had risen to her feet, drew her breath in. “Please,” she said. “Come and see.”
Everyone bolted to the one long window that ran across the main wall of the room. The window itself looked out onto the front of the Institute and the winding path that led from the doors down to the highway that divided them from the beach and the sea. The sky was high and blue and cloudless. The sunlight sparked off the silver bridles of three horses, each with a silent rider seated on its bare back.
“Hadas,” Cristina said, the word emerging on a staccato beat of astonishment. “Faeries.”
It was undeniably the case. The first horse was black, and the rider who sat on him wore black armor that looked like burned leaves. The second horse was black as well, and the rider who sat on him wore a robe the color of ivory. The third horse was brown, and its rider was wrapped head to toe in a hooded robe the color of earth. Emma couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman, a child or an adult.
“‘So first let pass the horses black and then let pass the brown,’” Jules murmured, quoting an old faerie poem. “One robed in black, one brown, one white—it’s an official delegation. From the Courts.” Julian looked across the room at Diana. “I didn’t know Arthur had a meeting with a delegation from Faerie. Do you think he told the Clave?”
She shook her head, clearly puzzled. “I don’t know. He never mentioned it to me.”
Julian’s body was taut like a bowstring; Emma could feel the tension coming off him. A delegation from Faerie was a rare, serious thing. Permission from the Clave had to be granted before a meeting could be held. Even by the head of an Institute. “Diana, I have to go.”
Frowning, Diana tapped her stele against one hand, then nodded. “Fine. Go ahead.”
“I’ll come with you.” Emma slid down from the window seat.
Julian, already headed to the door, paused and turned. “No,” he said. “It’s all right. I’ll take care of it.”
He walked out of the room. For a moment Emma didn’t move.
Normally if Julian told her he didn’t need her with him, or that he had to do something alone, she wouldn’t have given it a second thought. Sometimes events necessitated splitting up.
But the night before had solidified her feeling of unease. She didn’t know what was going on with Jules. She didn’t know if he didn’t want her with him, or did but was angry with her or angry with himself or both.
She knew only that the Fair Folk were dangerous, and there was no way Julian was facing them alone.
“I’m going,” she said, and headed toward the door. She stopped to take down Cortana, which was hanging beside it.
“Emma,” said Diana, her voice tight with meaning. “Be careful.”
The last time faeries had been in the Institute, they had helped Sebastian Morgenstern wrench the soul from the body of Julian’s father. They had taken Mark.
Emma had carried Tavvy and Dru to safety. She had helped save the lives of Julian’s younger brothers and sisters. They had barely escaped alive.
But Emma hadn’t had years of training then. She hadn’t killed a single demon herself, not when she was twelve. She hadn’t spent years training to fight and kill and defend.
There was no way she was hanging back now.
Faeries.