"Consider it, child," said the King. He looked as if he were enjoying himself. "What did they want from you?"
Kieran breathed in hard. "Testimony," he said. "Witnessing in front of the Council. You-you planned this, Mark? This deception? Does everyone in the Institute know? Yes, they must. They must." His hair had gone black as oil. "And the Queen knows, too, I suppose. She planned to make a fool of me, with you?"
The agony on his face was too much; Mark couldn't look at it, at Kieran. It was Cristina who spoke for him. "Kieran, no," she said. "It wasn't like that-"
"And you knew?" Kieran turned a look on her that was hardly less betrayed than the one he'd turned on Mark. "You knew as well?"
The King laughed. Rage went through Mark then, a blinding fury, and he seized up the poker from the fireplace. The King continued laughing as he stalked toward him, raised the poker, and swung it-
It slammed against the golden acorn where it lay on the hearth before the fireplace, shattering it into powder. The King's laughter cut off abruptly; he turned a look of pure hatred on Mark and vanished.
"Why did you do that?" Kieran demanded. "Were you afraid of what else he'd tell me?"
Mark threw the poker against the grate with a loud clang. "He gave you back your memories, didn't he?" he said. "Then you know everything."
"Not everything," said Kieran, and his voice cracked and broke; Mark thought of him hanging in the thorn manacles at the Unseelie Court, and how the same despair showed in his eyes now. "I don't know how you planned this, when you decided you would lie to me to get me to do what you wanted. I don't know how much it sickened you every time you had to touch me, to pretend to want me. I don't know when you planned to tell me the truth. After I testified? Did you plan to mock me and laugh at me before all the Council, or wait until we were alone? Did you tell everyone what a monster I am, how selfish and how heartless-"
"You are not a monster, Kieran," Mark interrupted. "There is nothing wrong with your heart."
There was only hurt in Kieran's eyes as he regarded Mark across the small space that separated them. "That cannot be true," he said, "for you were my heart."
"Stop." It was Cristina, her voice small and worried, but firm. "Let Mark explain to you-"
"I am done with human explanations," said Kieran, and stalked from the room, slamming the door behind him.
* * *
The last of the shimmering Portal disappeared. Julian and Magnus stood, almost shoulder to shoulder, watching Alec and the children until they vanished.
With a sigh, Magnus tossed the end of his scarf over his shoulder and stalked across the room to fill a glass from the decanter of wine that rested dustily on a table by the window. It was nearly dark outside, the sky over London the color of pansy petals. "Do you want some?" he asked Julian, recapping the decanter.
"I should probably stay sober."
"Suit yourself." Magnus picked up his wineglass and examined it; the light shining through it turned the liquid ruby red.
"Why are you helping us so much?" Julian asked. "I mean, I know we're a likable family, but no one's that likable."
"No," Magnus agreed, with a slight smile. "No one is."
"Then?"
Magnus took a sip of the wine and shrugged. "Jace and Clary asked me to," he said, "and Jace is Alec's parabatai, and I have always had a fatherly feeling toward Clary. They're my friends. And there is little I wouldn't do for my friends."
"Is that really all of it?"
"You might remind me of someone."
"Me?" Julian was surprised. People rarely said that to him. "Who do I remind you of?"
Magnus shook his head without answering. "Years ago," he said, "I had a recurring dream, about a city drowned in blood. Towers made of bone and blood running in the streets like water. I thought later that it was about the Dark War, and indeed the dream vanished in the years after the war was fought." He drained his glass and set it down. "But lately I've been dreaming it again. I can't help but think something is coming."
"You warned them," said Julian. "The Council. The day they decided to exile Helen and abandon Mark. The day they decided on the Cold Peace. You told them what the consequences would be." He leaned against the wall. "I was only twelve, but I remember it. You said, 'The Fair Folk have long hated the Nephilim for their harshness. Show them something other than harshness, and you will receive something other than hate in return.' But they didn't listen to you, did they?"