Lord of Shadows (The Dark Artifices #2)(215)

"You mean he needs more energy to spread those spells," said Julian. "The ones that Malcolm helped with, that cancel out Shadowhunter magic."

"I mean your magic is angelic in its nature," said Magnus. "It comes from light, from energy and life. The opposite of that is Sheol, Hell, whatever you want to call it. The absence of light and life. Of any kind of hope." He coughed. "When the Council voted for the Cold Peace, they were voting for a time that never existed. Just as the Cohort wishes everything to return to a lost Golden Age when Shadowhunters walked the world like gods and Downworlders and mundanes bowed before them." Everyone stared at him. This was a Magnus Bane people rarely saw, Julian thought. A Magnus whose good cheer and casual optimism had deserted him. A Magnus who was remembering the darkness of all he had seen over the centuries: the death and the loss; the same Magnus Julian had seen in the Hall of Accords when he was twelve, begging the Council in vain not to pass the Cold Peace, knowing that they would. "The King wants the same. To unite two kingdoms that have always been separate but in his mind were one land once. We must stop the King, but in a way he is only doing what the Cohort would do. What we have to hope the Clave would not do."

"You mean," said Julian, "this is vengeance?"

Magnus shrugged. "It is the whirlwind," he said. "Let us hope we can stop it."





26


WALK IN SHADOW


Emma sat on Cristina's bed, brushing her friend's hair. She was beginning to understand why her mother had loved brushing her hair so much when she was a little girl: There was something oddly soothing about the smooth dark locks slipping through her fingers, the repetitive motion of the brush.



       
         
       
        

It soothed the ache in her head, her chest. The one that felt not just her own pain, but Julian's. She knew how much he hated saying good-bye to Tavvy, even if it was for Tavvy's own good, and she felt a hollowness inside herself where Julian was parting from his smallest brother now.

Being with Cristina helped. Emma had spilled everything that happened in Cornwall while clucking over Cristina's wrist and rubbing a mundane cream called Savlon into the red mark from the binding rune. Cristina ouched and complained that it stung, and handed Emma the hairbrush and told her to do something actually useful.

"So does anything help the binding?" said Emma. "Like if Mark came in here and lay down directly on top of you, would the pain go away?"

"Yes," Cristina said, sounding a bit muffled.

"Well, it's very inconsiderate of him not to, if you ask me."

Cristina gave a little wail that sounded like "Kieran."

"Right, Mark has to pretend he still cares about Kieran. I guess lying on top of you wouldn't do much for that."

"He does care about Kieran," Cristina said. "It's just-I think he cares about me, too." She half-turned to look at Emma. Her eyes were big and dark and worried. "I danced with him. With Mark. And we kissed."

"That's good! That is good, right?"

"It was, but then Kieran came in-"

"What?"

"But he wasn't angry, he just told Mark that he should dance better, and he danced with me. It was like dancing with fire."

"Whoa, sexy weirdness," said Emma. "This may be more sexy weirdness than I can handle."

"It is not weird!"

"It is," said Emma. "You are headed for a faerie threesome. Or some kind of war."

"Emma!"

"Hot faerie threesome," said Emma cheerfully. "I can say I knew you when."

Cristina groaned. "Fine. What about you and Julian? Do you have a plan, after what happened in Cornwall?"

Emma sighed and put the hairbrush down. It was a lovely old silver-backed Victorian object. She wondered if it had been in the room when Cristina got here or if she'd found it somewhere else in the Institute. Already Cristina's London room bore signs of her personality-pictures had been cleaned and straightened, she'd found a colorful coverlet for her bed somewhere, and her balisong hung on a new hook by the fireplace.

Emma began to braid Cristina's hair, plaiting the thick strands between her fingers. "We don't have a plan," she said. "It's always the same thing-we're together and we feel like we're invincible. And then we start to realize it's still all the same choices and they're all bad ones." 

Cristina looked troubled. "It is always the same choices, isn't it? Separation from each other or ceasing to be Shadowhunters."