Simon swallowed greedily, caffeine buzzing through his system. He didn’t know how anyone was supposed to be human—much less, in the Shadowhunter case, superhuman—without a daily dose. “Where did you get this?”
“Magnus magicked me up a nonelectric coffeemaker,” Helen said, grinning. “Kind of a parting gift before we left for Wrangel Island. Now I can’t live without it.?”
“How is it there?” Simon asked. “On the island?”
Helen hesitated, and he wondered if he’d made a mistake. Was it rude to ask someone how they were enjoying their exile in a Siberian-like wilderness?
“Cold,” she said finally. “Lonely.”
“Oh.” What could he say to that? “Sorry” didn’t quite seem to cover it, and she didn’t look like she wanted his pity.
“But we’re together, at least. Aline and I. That’s something. That’s everything, I suppose. I still can’t believe she agreed to marry me.”
“You’re getting married?” Simon exclaimed. “That’s amazing!”
“It is, isn’t it?” Helen smiled. “It’s hard to believe how much light you can find in the darkness, when you have someone who loves you.”
“Did she come with you?” Simon asked, looking around the small cabin. There was only one other room, the bedroom, he assumed, its door closed. He couldn’t remember meeting Aline, but from everything Clary had told him, he was curious.
“No,” Helen said sharply. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”
“What deal?”
Instead of answering, she abruptly changed the subject. “So, did you enjoy my lecture this morning?”
Now it was Simon who hesitated, unsure how to answer. He didn’t want to suggest he’d found her lecture dull—but it seemed equally wrong to suggest he’d enjoyed hearing her terrible story or seeing Professor Mayhew humiliate her. “I was surprised you’d want to give the lecture,” he said finally. “It can’t be easy, telling that story.”
Helen gave him a wry smile. “?‘Want’ is a strong word.” She got up to pour him another cup of coffee, then began bustling with a stack of dishes in the tiny kitchenette. Simon got the feeling she was just trying to keep her hands busy. And maybe avoid meeting his eye. “I made a deal with them. The Clave.” She ran her hands nervously through her blond hair, and Simon caught a brief glimpse of her pointed ears. “They said if I came to the Academy for a couple days, let them parade me around like some kind of half-faerie show pony, then Aline and I could come back.”
“For good?”
She laughed bitterly. “For one day and one night, to be married.”
Simon thought, suddenly, of what Beatriz had asked him earlier that day. Why he was trying so hard to become a Shadowhunter.
Sometimes he couldn’t quite remember.
“They didn’t even want to let us come back at all,” Helen said bitterly. “They wanted us to have the wedding on Wrangel Island. If you can even call that a wedding, in a frozen hellhole without anyone you love there with you. I guess I should feel lucky I got this much out of them.”
Less lucky than disgusted, or maybe enraged, Simon thought, but it didn’t seem like it would be helpful to say so out loud. “I’m surprised they care so much about one lecture,” he said instead. “I mean, not that it wasn’t educational, but Professor Mayhew could have just told us the story himself.”
Helen turned away from her kitchen busywork and met Simon’s gaze. “They don’t care about the lecture. This isn’t about your education. It’s about humiliating me. That’s all.” She gave herself a little shake, then smiled too brightly, her eyes shining. “Forget about all that. You came here to get something from me—here it is.” Helen slipped an envelope from her pocket and handed it to Simon.
Curious, he tore it open and pulled out a small piece of thick ivory stationery, inscribed with a familiar hand.
Simon stopped breathing.
Dear Simon, Izzy wrote.
I know I’ve developed a habit of ambushing you at school.
This was true. Isabelle had popped up more than once when he’d least expected her. Every time she showed up on campus, they fought; every time, he was sorry to see her go.
I promised myself I’m not going to do that anymore. But there’s something I’d like to talk to you about. So this is me, giving you advance warning. If it’s okay for me to come for a visit, you can let Helen know, and she’ll get word to me. If it’s not okay, you can tell her that, too. Whatever.—Isabelle
Simon read the brief note several times, trying to intuit the tone behind the words. Affectionate? Eager? Businesslike?
Until this week he’d been only an e-mail or a phone call away—why wait until he was back at the Academy to reach out? Why reach out at all?
Maybe because it would be easier to reject him for good when he was safely on another continent?
But in that case, why Portal all the way to Idris to do it face-to-face?
“Maybe you need some time to think about it?” Helen said finally.
He’d forgotten she was there. “No!” Simon blurted out. “I mean, no, I don’t need time to think about it, but yes, yes, she can come visit. Of course. Please, tell her.”
Stop babbling, he ordered himself. Bad enough he turned into a driveling fool every time Isabelle was in the room with him these days—was he now going to start doing so at the sound of her name?
Helen laughed. “See, I told you so,” she said loudly.
“Er, you told me what?” Simon asked.
“You heard him, come out!” Helen called, even louder, and the bedroom door creaked open.
Isabelle Lightwood didn’t have it in her to look sheepish. But her face was doing its best. “Surprise?”
When Simon had regained his power of speech, there was only one word available in his brain. “Isabelle.”
Whatever crackled and sizzled between them was apparently so palpable that Helen could sense it too, because she swiftly slid past Isabelle into the bedroom and shut the door.
Leaving the two of them alone.
“Hi, Simon.”
“Hi, Izzy.”
“You’re, uh, probably wondering what I’m doing here.” It wasn’t like her to sound so uncertain.
Simon nodded.
“You never called me,” she said. “I saved you from getting decapitated by an Eidolon demon, and you didn’t even call.”
“You never called me, either,” Simon pointed out. “And . . . uh . . . also, I kind of felt like I should have been able to save myself.”
Isabelle sighed. “I thought you might be thinking that.”
“Because I should have, Izzy.”
“Because you’re an idiot, Simon.” She brightened. “But this is your lucky day, because I’ve decided I’m not giving up yet. This is too important to give up just because of a bad date.”
“Three bad dates,” he pointed out. “Like, really bad dates.”
“The worst,” she agreed.