She realized with a small jolt of surprise that she was hoping things worked out for them. She hoped that wasn’t disloyal to Cristina. But she was no longer angry at Kieran—he might have made a mistake, but he’d made up for it many times over since then.

“Where was Jessamine earlier?” said Julian. “Isn’t she supposed to protect the Institute?”

Another crash of glass.

“She says she can’t leave the Institute. She can only protect inside of it.” Kit paused. “I don’t know if I should repeat the rest of what she said.” After a moment, he smiled. “Thank you, Jessamine.”

“What did she say?” Livvy asked, picking up her stele.

“That I’m a true Herondale,” he said. He frowned. “What did that metal guy say to me when I told him my name? Was it faerie language?”

“Oddly, it was Latin,” said Julian. “An insult. Something Mark Antony once said to Augustus Caesar—‘you, boy, who owe everything to a name.’ He was saying he would never have amounted to anything if he hadn’t been a Caesar.”

Kit looked annoyed. “I’ve been a Herondale for like three weeks,” he said. “And I’m not sure what I’ve gotten out of it.”

“Do not pay too much attention to the pronouncements of faeries,” said Kieran. “They will get under your skin in any way they can.”

“Does that include you?” asked Cristina, with a smile.

“Obviously,” said Kieran, and he smiled too, just slightly.

Theirs might be the weirdest friendship she’d ever seen, Emma thought.

“We’re off topic,” said Livvy. “Annabel Blackthorn is in our library. That’s weird, right? Doesn’t anyone else think it’s weird?”

“Why is that weirder than vampires?” said Ty, clearly perplexed. “Or werewolves?”

“Well, of course you wouldn’t think it was,” said Kit. “You’re the one who told her to come.”

“Yes, about that,” Julian began. “Is there a particular reason you didn’t tell any of us—”

Ty was saved from a brotherly chastisement by the infirmary door opening. It was Magnus. Emma didn’t like the way he looked—he seemed grimly pale, his eyes shadowed, his movements stiff, as if he were bruised. His mouth was set in a serious line.

“Julian,” he said. “If you could come with me.”

“What for?” asked Emma.

“I’ve been trying to talk to Annabel,” Magnus said. “I thought she might be willing to open up to someone who wasn’t a Shadowhunter if she had the option, but she’s stubborn. She’s stayed polite, but she says she’ll only speak to Julian.”

“Does she not remember you?” Julian asked, getting up.

“She remembers me,” said Magnus. “But as a friend of Malcolm’s. And she’s not his biggest fan these days.”

Ungrateful, Emma remembered Kieran saying. But he was silent now, rebuttoning his torn shirt, his bruised eyes cast downward.

“Why doesn’t she want to talk to Ty?” said Livvy. “He sent her the message.”

Magnus shrugged an I couldn’t tell you shrug.

“All right, I’ll be right back,” said Julian. “We’re leaving for Idris as soon as possible, so everyone grab anything they might need to take with them.”

“The Council meeting is this afternoon,” Magnus said. “I’ll have the strength to make a Portal in a few hours. We’ll be sleeping in Alicante tonight.”

He sounded relieved about it. He and Julian headed out into the hallway. Emma meant to hang back, but she couldn’t—she darted after them before the door closed.

“Jules,” she said. He had already started down the corridor with Magnus; at the sound of her voice, they both turned.

She couldn’t have done it in the infirmary, but it was just Magnus, and he already knew. She went up to Julian and put her arms around him. “Be careful,” she said. “She sent us into a trap in that church. This could be a trap too.”

“I’ll be right there, outside the room,” Magnus said, subdued. “I’ll be ready to intervene. But Julian, under no circumstances should you try to take the Black Volume from her, even if she isn’t holding it. It’s tied to her with pretty powerful magic.”

Julian nodded, and Magnus disappeared down the hallway, leaving them alone. For long moments, they held each other in silence, letting the anxiety of the day dissipate: their fear for each other in the battle, their fear for the children, their worry over what was going to happen in Alicante. Julian was warm and solid in her arms, his hand tracing a soothing line down her back. He smelled of cloves, as always, as well as antiseptic and bandages. She felt his chin nudge her hair as his fingers flew across the back of her shirt.

D-O-N-T W-O-R-R-Y.

“Of course I’m worried,” said Emma. “You saw what she did to Etarlam. Do you think you can convince her to just give you the book?”

“I don’t know,” Julian said. “I’ll know when I talk to her.”

“Annabel’s been lied to so much,” said Emma. “Don’t promise anything we can’t deliver.”

He kissed her forehead. His lips moved against her skin, his voice so low that no one who didn’t know him as well as Emma did could have understood him at all. “I will do,” he said, “whatever I need to do.”

She knew he meant it. There was nothing more to say; she watched him go down the corridor toward the library with troubled eyes.

* * *

Kit was in his room packing his meager belongings when Livvy came in. She’d dressed for the trip to Idris, in a long black skirt and a round-collared white shirt. Her hair was loose down her back.

She looked at Ty, sitting on Kit’s bed. They’d been discussing Idris and what Ty remembered of it. “It’s not like any place else,” he’d told Kit, “but when you get there, you’ll feel like you’ve been there before.”

“Ty-Ty,” Livvy said. “Bridget says you can take one of the old Sherlock Holmes books from the library and keep it.”

Ty’s face lit up. “Which one?”

“Whichever you want. Your choice. Just hurry up; we’re going to leave as soon as we can, Magnus said.”

Ty bounded to the door, seemed to remember Kit, and swung back around. “We can talk more later,” he said, and darted off down the hallway.

“Only one book! One!” Livvy called after him with a laugh. “Ouch!” She reached up to fiddle with something at the back of her neck, her face crinkled in annoyance. “My necklace is caught on my hair—”

Kit reached up to untangle the thin gold chain. A locket dangled from it, kissing the hollow of her throat. Up close, she smelled like orange blossoms.

Their faces were very close together, and the pale curve of her mouth was near his. Her lips were light rose pink. Confusion stirred in Kit.

But it was Livvy who shook her head. “We shouldn’t, Kit. No more kissing. I mean, we only did it once anyway. But I don’t think that’s how we’re meant to be.”

The necklace came free. Kit drew his hands away quickly, confused.