And where thou lodgest, I will lodge.
Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.
Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried.
The Angel do so to me, and more also,
If aught but death part thee and me.”
Robert recited the words, but they were unnecessary. Their bond had been cemented the day he turned fourteen, when he finally got up the nerve to Mark himself again. Michael was the only one he told, and as he held the stele over his skin, it was Michael’s steady gaze that gave him the courage to bear down.
Unthinkable that they had only one last year together before they’d be expected to part. Their parabatai bond would remain after the Academy, of course. They’d always be best friends; they’d always charge into battle side by side. But it wouldn’t be the same. They’d each marry, move into houses of their own, refocus their attention and their love. They would always have a claim on each other’s souls. But after next year, they would no longer be the most important person in each other’s lives. This, Robert knew, was simply how life worked. This was growing up. He just couldn’t imagine it, and he didn’t want to.
As if listening in on Robert’s thoughts, Michael echoed the question he’d dodged earlier. “What really is going on with you and Maryse?” he asked. “Do you think it’s for real? Like, for good?”
There was no need to put on a show for Michael. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I don’t even know what that would feel like. She’s perfect for me. I love spending time with her, I love . . . you know, with her. But does that mean I love her? It should, but . . .”
“Something’s missing?”
“Not between us, though,” Robert said. “It’s like there’s something missing in me. I see how Stephen looks at Amatis, how Valentine looks at Jocelyn—”
“How Lucian looks at Jocelyn,” Michael added with a wry grin. They both liked Lucian, despite his irritating tendency to act like Valentine’s favor had given him insight beyond his years. But after all these years of watching him pine away for Jocelyn, it was hard to take him entirely seriously. The same went for Jocelyn, who somehow managed to remain oblivious. Robert didn’t understand how you could be the center of someone’s world without even realizing it.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, wondering if any girl would ever be the center of his world. “Sometimes I worry there’s something wrong with me.”
Michael clapped a hand to his shoulder and fixed him with an intense gaze. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Robert. I wish you could finally see that.”
Robert shook off the hand, along with the weight of the moment. “How about you?” he said with forced gaiety. “It’s been, what, three dates with Eliza Rosewain?”
“Four,” Michael admitted.
He’d sworn Robert to secrecy about her, saying he didn’t want the other guys to know until he was sure it was real. Robert suspected he didn’t want Valentine to know, as Eliza was a particular thorn in Valentine’s side. She asked nearly as many disrespectful questions as he did, and harbored a similar disdain for the current policies of the Clave, but she wanted nothing to do with the Circle or its goals. Eliza thought that a new, united front with mundanes and Downworlders was the key to the future. She argued—loudly, and to the disgust of most of the faculty and students—that the Shadowhunters should be addressing the problems of the mundane world. She could often be found in the quad, shoving unwanted leaflets in students’ faces, ranting about nuclear testing, Middle East oil tyrants, some trouble no one understood in South Africa, some disease no one wanted to acknowledge in America . . . Robert had heard every lecture in full, because Michael always insisted on staying to listen.
“She’s very odd,” Michael said. “I like it.”
“Oh.” It was a surprise, a not entirely pleasant one. Michael never liked anyone. Until this moment, Robert hadn’t realized how much he had counted on that. “Then you should go for it,” he said, hoping he sounded sincere.
“Really?” Michael looked rather surprised himself.
“Yes. Definitely.” Robert reminded himself: The less certain you feel, the more certain you act. “She’s perfect for you.”
“Oh.” Michael stopped walking and settled under the shadow of a tree. Robert dropped to the ground beside him. “Can I ask you something, Robert?”
“Anything.”
“Have you ever been in love? For real?”
“You know I haven’t. Don’t you think I would have mentioned it?”
“But how can you know for sure, if you don’t know what it would feel like? Maybe you have without even realizing it. Maybe you’re holding out for something you already have.”
There was a part of Robert that hoped this was the case, that what he felt for Maryse was the kind of eternal, soul-mate love that everyone talked about. Maybe his expectations were simply too high. “I guess I don’t know for sure,” he admitted. “What about you? Do you think you know what it would feel like?”
“Love?” Michael smiled down at his hands. “Love, real love, is being seen. Being known. Knowing the ugliest part of someone, and loving them anyway. And . . . I guess I think two people in love become something else, something more than the sum of their parts, you know? That it must be like you’re creating a new world that exists just for the two of you. You’re gods of your own pocket universe.” He laughed a little then, as if he felt foolish. “That must sound ridiculous.”
“No,” Robert said, the truth dawning over him. Michael didn’t talk like someone who was guessing—he talked like someone who knew. Was it possible that after four dates with Eliza, he’d actually fallen in love? Was it possible that his parabatai’s entire world had changed, and Robert hadn’t even noticed? “It sounds . . . nice.”
Michael turned his head up to face Robert, his face crinkled with an unusual uncertainty. “Robert, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you . . . needing to tell you, maybe.”
“Anything.”
It wasn’t like Michael to hesitate. They told each other everything; they always had.
“I . . .”
He stopped, then shook his head.
“What is it?” Robert pressed.
“No, it’s nothing. Forget it.”
Robert’s stomach cramped. Is this what it would be like now that Michael was in love? Would there be a new distance between them, important things left unsaid? He felt like Michael was leaving him behind, crossing the border into a land where his parabatai couldn’t follow—and though he knew he shouldn’t blame Michael, he couldn’t help himself.