Something caught at her wrist. Her seraph blade fell from her hand, a glowing point of light that tumbled away from her as she was hauled to the surface of the water. She gasped in air, but it was too soon. Water filled her lungs, her chest, and darkness slammed into her with the force of a truck.

Idris, 2009

It was at Emma and Julian’s parabatai ceremony that she learned two important things. The first was that she wasn’t the only Carstairs left in the world.

Their parabatai ceremony was performed in Idris, because they had fought in the Dark War, and their valor was recognized. At least, Julian said, it was recognized sometimes—not when they really wanted anything important, like his sister back from Wrangel Island, but when the Nephilim felt like throwing a party about how awesome Nephilim were, it was always a feature.

When they arrived, they looked around the streets of Alicante, astonished. The last time they had been in the capital city of Idris, it had been wrecked by the Dark War. The streets torn up, nails hammered into walls to keep out faeries, the doors of the Accords Hall torn away. Now it was pristine again, the cobblestones back in place, the canals winding by the houses, and the demon towers glimmering over it all.

“It seems smaller,” Julian said, looking around from the Accords Hall steps.

“It’s not that it’s smaller.” The voice belonged to a young man with dark hair and dark eyes, smiling down at them. “It’s that you’ve grown.”

They stared at him.

“Don’t you remember me?” he said. He lowered his voice as if he were quoting. “Emma Cordelia Carstairs. Stay with your parabatai. Sometimes it’s braver not to fight. Protect them, and save your vengeance for another day.”

“Brother Zachariah?” Emma was astonished. “You helped us during the Dark War—”

“I am no longer a Silent Brother,” he said. “Only an ordinary man. My name is James. James Carstairs. But everyone calls me Jem.”

There was astonishment, and there was chatter, and Julian gave Emma space to be shocked and to pepper former Brother Zachariah with questions. Jem explained that he had become a Silent Brother in 1878, but he had shed the role now so that he could marry the woman he loved, the warlock Tessa Gray. Julian asked if that meant he was a hundred and fifty years old and Jem admitted that he nearly was, though he didn’t look it. He looked about twenty-three.

“Why didn’t you tell me back then?” Emma demanded as they wended their way into the Silent City, down long stone staircases. “That you were a Carstairs?”

“I thought I might die,” he said candidly. “It was a battle. It seemed a cruel thing to tell you if I wasn’t going to live through the day. And after that Tessa cautioned me that I should give you time, to grieve for your parents, to adjust to your new life.” He turned and looked at her, and his expression was both sorrowful and affectionate. “You’re a Shadowhunter, Emma. And neither Tessa nor I are Nephilim, not anymore. To come and live with me, though you would be welcome, you’d have to give up being a Shadowhunter. And that was too cruel a choice to place in front of you.”

“Come and live with you?” It was Julian, a warning sharp in his tone. “Why would she do that? She has a home. She has a family.”

“Exactly,” Jem said. “And there is more. Can you give me a moment alone with Emma?”

Julian checked in with Emma with his eyes, and she nodded. He turned and made his way down the stairs, glancing back several times to make sure she was all right.

Jem touched her arm with light fingers. She was wearing ceremonial gear, ready for the ritual, but she could feel the scar she had given herself with Cortana flare when he touched her, as if recognizing their shared blood. “I wanted to be here for you, for this,” he said. “For I had a parabatai myself once, and the bond of it is precious to me.”

Emma didn’t ask what had happened to Jem’s parabatai. Silent Brothers were forbidden from having parabatai, and besides, a hundred and thirty years was a long, long time.

“But I don’t know when I can be with you again,” he said. “Tessa and I, we have to find something. Something important.” He hesitated. “It will be dangerous looking for it, but once it’s found I’d like to be part of your life once more. Like a sort of uncle.” He gave a half smile. “You might not guess it, but I have a lot of experience in being an uncle.”

His gaze was steady on hers, and though there was no physical resemblance between them, for that moment Emma was reminded of her father—of his level gaze and kind face.

“I’d like that,” she said. “Can I ask you one more thing?”

He nodded, his expression serious. It was easy to imagine him as an uncle: He looked so young, but there was a calm certainty underneath that made him seem ageless, like a faerie or a warlock. “Yes?”

“Did you send me your cat?”

“Church?” He started to laugh. “Yes. Has he been taking care of you? Did he bring you the gifts I gave?”

“The shells and sea glass?” She nodded. “The bracelet Julian’s wearing is made out of sea glass Church brought me.”

His laughter softened into a smile that was a little bit sad. “As it should be,” he said. “What belongs to one parabatai, belongs to the other. For you are one heart now. And one soul.”

Jem stayed with Emma through the ceremony, which was witnessed by Simon and Clary, whom she suspected would become parabatai themselves one day.

After the ceremony, Julian and Emma were led through the streets to the Accords Hall, where there was a special dinner in their honor. Tessa—a pretty, brown-haired girl who looked about Clary’s age—had joined them, hugging Emma tightly and exclaiming over Cortana, which she said she had seen before a long time ago. Other parabatai got up and spoke about their bond and their experiences. Waves of radiant happiness seemed to come off the pairs of best friends as they talked. Jace and Alec spoke about nearly dying in the demon realms together, grinning, and Emma felt a sense of joy at the thought that one day she and Jules would be up there, smiling dopily at each other and talking about how their bond had gotten them through times when they’d thought they were going to die.

At some point during the speeches, Jem had slipped quietly from his chair and disappeared through the doors to Angel Square. Tessa had dropped her napkin and hurried after him; as the doors closed, Emma could see them on the dimly lit steps. Jem had his head down on Tessa’s shoulder.

She wanted to go after them, but she was already being swept up to the front of the Hall by Clary and made to give some sort of speech, and Julian was with her, smiling that calm smile that hid a million thoughts. And Emma had been happy. She’d been wearing one of her first great thrift store finds, a real gown, not like the ragged jeans she usually wore until they fell to pieces. Instead she’d put on a brown Paraphernalia dress scattered with pale gold blossoms like sunflowers growing out of a field and let her hair, which reached her waist, out of its usual ponytail. She’d shot up like a weed in the past year, and she nearly reached Jace’s shoulder when he came over to congratulate her and Julian.

She’d had the worst crush of all time on Jace when she was twelve and she still felt a little awkward around him. He was nearly nineteen years old now, and even better-looking than he had been—taller, broader, tanned, and with his hair bleached from sunlight, but more than anything else, happier-looking. She remembered a tense-looking, beautiful boy who burned with revenge and heavenly fire, and now he looked at ease with himself.