“I’m sorry,” said Simon. “I mean, I’m sorry for the inappropriate questions. And I’m sorry for walking in on you, er, yesterday morning. I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry for whatever it is that went wrong between us. Whatever you’re angry about. I honestly don’t remember, but I do remember how you are when you’re angry, and I don’t want things to be like that between us. I remember you don’t like Clary.”
Alec looked at Simon as if he was crazy.
“I like Clary. Clary’s one of my best friends.”
“Oh,” said Simon. “I’m sorry. I thought I remembered . . . I must have gotten it wrong.”
Alec took a deep breath and admitted: “No, you didn’t get it wrong. I didn’t like Clary at first. I got—rough with her once. I slammed her up against a wall. She hit her head. I was a trained warrior and she didn’t have any training at all, back then. I’m twice her size.”
Simon had come here to conciliate Alec, so he was unprepared for the strong urge to take a swing at him. He couldn’t do it. Alec was holding a baby.
All he could do was stare at him in furious silence, at the very idea someone would touch his best friend.
“It’s no excuse,” Alec continued. “But I was afraid. She knew about me being gay, and she told me that she knew. She wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know, but I was scared of her because I didn’t know her. She wasn’t my friend then. She was just some mundane invading my family, and I knew Shadowhunters, I was friends with Shadowhunters, who if they’d ever guessed—they would have gone running to tell my parents, so my parents could talk sense into me. They would have told everybody. They would have thought they were doing the right thing.”
“It wouldn’t have been the right thing,” said Simon, still furious but shaken. “Clary would never do that. She never even told me.”
“I didn’t know her then,” said Alec. “You’re right. She never told anyone, about any of it. She had every right to say that I’d gotten rough with her. Jace would have punched me in the face if he’d known. I was terrified she would tell Jace that I was gay, because I wasn’t ready for Jace to know about me. But you’re right. She would never, and she didn’t.” He looked out of the window, patting the baby on the back. “I like Clary,” he said simply. “She always tries to do what’s right, and she never lets anyone else tell her what right is. She reminds my parabatai that he wants to live. Occasionally I wish she’d take fewer mad risks, but if I hated reckless crazy-brave people, I’d hate . . .”
“Let me guess,” said Simon. “His name rhymes with Face Herringfail.”
Alec laughed and Simon mentally congratulated himself.
“So you like Clary,” said Simon. “I’m the only one you don’t like. What did I do? I know you have a lot on your plate, but if you could just tell me what I did so I can apologize for it and so we can maybe be okay, I’d really appreciate it.”
Alec stared at him, then turned and walked toward one of the chairs in the attic. There were two rickety wooden chairs, both of which held cushions with peacocks embroidered on them, and there was a sofa. The sofa was a little slanted. Alec took one of the chairs, and Simon decided not to risk the sofa and took the other.
Alec put the baby on his knee, one arm carefully around his small, round body. With his free hand he played with the baby’s tiny hands, tapping them with his fingertips, as if he were teaching the baby how to play patty-cake. He was clearly getting ready for a confession.
Simon drew in a deep breath, preparing for whatever it was. He knew it might be really bad. He had to be ready.
“What did you do?” Alec asked. “You saved Magnus’s life.”
Simon was at a loss. An apology seemed inappropriate.
“Magnus was kidnapped, and I went into a hell dimension to save him. That was my whole plan. All I wanted to do was rescue him. On the way, Isabelle was badly hurt. My whole life, I always wanted to protect the people I loved, to make sure they were safe. I should have been able to do it. But I couldn’t. I wasn’t able to help either of them. You did. You saved Isabelle’s life. When Magnus’s father was intent on taking him and there was nothing I could do about it, nothing at all, you stepped in. I’d undervalued you, in the past, and you did everything I ever wanted to do, and then you were gone. Isabelle was a wreck. Clary was worse. Jace was so upset. Magnus felt guilty. Everyone was so hurt, and I wanted to help them, and you came back but you didn’t remember what you had done. I’m not really good with strangers, and you were a really complicated stranger. I couldn’t talk to you. It wasn’t that you did anything wrong. It was that there was nothing I could do to make it even between us. I owed you more than I could ever repay, and I didn’t even know how to thank you. It wouldn’t have meant anything. You didn’t even remember.”
“Oh,” said Simon. “Wow.”
It was weird to think of faceless strangers thinking of Simon as a hero. It was even weirder to have Alec Lightwood, who he’d thought did not even like him, talk about him as if he was a hero.
“So you don’t hate me, and you don’t hate Clary. You don’t hate anyone.”
“I hate people forcing me to talk about my feelings,” said Alec.
Simon stared at him for a moment, an apology on his lips, but he did not speak it. Instead he grinned, and Alec grinned shyly back.
“I’ve been doing it way too much since I got to the Academy.”
“I can imagine,” said Simon.
He had not been sure what would happen with the baby Alec and Magnus were taking care of, but from everything Isabelle had said, she was sure they were keeping him. That must have required a conversation.
“I would like,” Alec said, “not to talk about feelings again for about a year. Also maybe to sleep for a year. Do babies ever sleep?”
“I used to babysit sometimes,” Simon said. “As I recall, babies do sleep a lot, but when you least expect it. Babies: more like the Spanish Inquisition than you think.”
Alec nodded, though he seemed confused. Simon made a mental note that it was his duty now, as Alec’s established friend, to introduce Alec to Monty Python as soon as possible. The baby crowed as if he were pleased by the comparison.
“Hey,” said Alec. “I’m sorry that I made you think I was mad at you, just because I didn’t know what to say.”
“Well,” Simon said. “Here’s the thing. I was helped along in my assumption.”
Alec stopped playing patty-cake with the baby. He went still all over. “What do you mean?”
“You didn’t talk to me a lot, and I was a little worried about it,” Simon explained. “So I asked my friend, between us guys, if you had a problem with me. I asked my good friend Jace.”
There was a pause as Alec absorbed this news. “You did.”
“And Jace,” said Simon. “Jace told me that there was a big, dark secret issue between us. He said it wasn’t his place to talk about it.”
The baby looked at Simon, then back at Alec. His small face looked thoughtful, as if he might shake his head and go: That Jace, what will he do next?
“Leave this to me,” Alec said calmly. “He’s my parabatai and we have a sacred bond and everything, but now he has gone too far.”