Lord of Shadows (The Dark Artifices #2)(31)

"I think that girl with her hair in a bun is angry with him," said Ty, leaning closer to the railing. His delicate face was all points and angles. Kit followed his gaze downward and saw Diego, deep in conversation with a pale-skinned girl whose hands were flying around as she spoke.

"The ring." Livvy caught Kit's hand, turning it over. The Herondale ring glinted on his finger. He'd already taken note of the delicate carving of birds that winged their way around the band. "Did Jace give you that?"

He shook his head. "Clary. Said it used to belong to James Herondale."

"James . . ." She looked as if she were making an effort to remember something. She gave a squeak then and dropped his hand as a shadow loomed over them. 

It was Emma. "All right, you little spies," she said. "Where's Cristina? I already looked in her room."

Livvy pointed upward. Kit frowned; he hadn't thought there was anything to the third floor but attic.

"Ah," Emma said. "Thanks." She shook out her hands at her sides. "When I get hold of Diego . . ."

There was a loud exclamation from below. All four of them craned forward to see the pale girl slap Diego sharply across the face.

"What . . . ?" Emma looked astonished, then furious again. She whirled and headed for the stairs.

Ty smiled, looking with his curls and light eyes for all the world like a painted cherub on a church wall.

"That girl was angry," he said, sounding delighted to have gotten it right.

Kit laughed.

* * *

The sky above the Institute blazed with color: hot pink, blood red, deep gold. The sun was going down, and the desert was bathed in the glow. The Institute itself shimmered, and the water shimmered too, far out where it waited for the sun's fall.

Cristina was exactly where Emma had guessed she would be: sitting as neatly as always, legs crossed, her gear jacket spread out on the shingles beneath her.

"He didn't come after me," she said, as Emma drew closer to her. Her black hair moved and lifted in the breeze, the pearls in her ears glimmering. The pendant around her neck shone too, the words on it picked out by the deep glow of the sun: Blessed be the Angel my strength, who teaches my hands to war, and my fingers to fight.

Emma collapsed onto the roof next to her friend, as close as she could get. She reached out and took Cristina's hand, squeezing it tightly. "Do you mean Diego?"

Cristina nodded. There were no marks of tears on her face; she seemed surprisingly composed, considering. "That girl came up and said she was his fiancée," Cristina said. "And I thought it must be some sort of mistake. Even when I turned and ran out of the room, I thought it must be a mistake and he would come after me and explain. But he didn't, which means he stayed because of her. Because she really is his fiancée and she matters to him more than I do."

"I don't know how he could do it," Emma said. "It's bizarre. He loves you so much-he came here because of you."

Cristina made a muffled noise. "You don't even like him!"

"I like him-well, liked him-sometimes," Emma said. "The perfect thing was kind of annoying. But the way he looked at you. You can't fake that."

"He has a fiancée, Emma. Not even just a girlfriend. A fiancée. Who knows how long he's even been engaged? Engaged. To get married."

"I'll crash the wedding," Emma suggested. "I'll jump out of the cake, but not in a sexy way. Like, with grenades."

Cristina snorted, then turned her face away. "I just feel so stupid," she said. "He lied to me and I forgave him, and then he lied to me again-what kind of idiot am I? Why on earth did I think he was trustworthy?"

"Because you wanted to," Emma said. "You've known him a long time, Tina, and that does make a difference. When someone's been part of your life for that long, cutting them out is like cutting the roots out from under a plant."

Cristina was silent for a long moment. "I know," she said. "I know you understand."

Emma tasted the acid burn of bitterness at the back of her throat and swallowed it back. She needed to be here for Cristina now, not dwell on her own worries. "When I was little," she said, "Jules and I used to come up here together at sunset practically every night and wait for the green flash."



       
         
       
        

"The what?"

"The green flash. When the sun goes down, just as it disappears, you'll see a flash of green light." They both looked out at the water. The sun was disappearing below the horizon, the sky streaked red and black. "If you make a wish on it, it'll come true."