Lord of Shadows The Dark Artifices 2

Kit felt a faint shudder go up his spine. For a moment, Julian had sounded like Kit’s father. The world isn’t the way you want it to be. It’s the way it is.

“So we’re just supposed to pretend we don’t know what Zara’s up to?” Emma frowned.

“No,” said Diana. “I’m going to go to Idris. I’m going to speak to the Consul.”

They all looked at her, wide-eyed—all except Julian, who didn’t seem surprised, and Kieran, who was still glaring at his food.

“What Zara is proposing would mean Jia’s daughter would be married to one of the Downworlders being registered. Jia knows what that would lead to. I know she’d meet with me. If I can reason with her—”

“She let the Cold Peace pass,” said Kieran.

“She had no choice,” said Diana. “If she’d had warning of what was coming, I’d like to think it would have turned out differently. This time, she’ll have that warning. Besides—we have something to offer her now.”

“That’s right,” said Julian, gesturing at Kieran. “The end of the Cold Peace. A faerie messenger from the Queen of Seelie.”

Evelyn, who had been napping by the fire, bolted upright. “That is enough.” She glared daggers at Kieran. “I can accept a Blackthorn into this house, even one with a questionable bloodline. I will always accept a Blackthorn. But a full-blood faerie? Listening to the business of Nephilim? I will not allow it.”

Kieran looked briefly startled. Then he rose to his feet. Mark began to rise too. Julian stayed exactly where he was. “But Kieran is part of our plan—”

“Stuff and nonsense. Bridget!” she called, and the maid, who had clearly been lurking in the corridor, stuck her head into the room. “Please lead the princeling to one of the spare bedrooms. I will have your word, faerie, that you will not depart it until you are allowed.”

Kieran looked at Cristina. “What is your desire, my lady?”

Kit was baffled. Why was Kieran, a prince of the gentry, taking orders from Cristina?

She blushed. “You don’t need to swear you won’t leave the room,” she said. “I trust you.”

“Do you?” Emma said, sounding fascinated, as Kieran gave a stiff bow and departed.

Bridget’s muttering could be heard by all as she led Kieran out the door. “Faeries in the Institute,” she muttered. “Ghosts is one thing, warlocks is another thing, but never in all my born days—”

Drusilla looked puzzled. “Why is Kieran here?” she said, as soon as he was gone. “I thought we hated him. Like, mostly hated him. I mean, he did save our lives, but he’s still a jerk.”

There was a murmur of voices. Kit remembered something he’d overhead Livvy say to Dru a day or two ago. More pieces of the Kieran puzzle: Livvy had been angry that Mark would go to Faerie to help someone who had hurt him. Had hurt Emma and Julian. Kit didn’t know exactly what had happened, but it had clearly been bad.

Emma had moved to sit on the couch beside Cristina. She’d arrived wearing a pale gossamer dress that looked like something Kit would have seen in the Shadow Market. It made her look delicate and graceful, but Kit remembered the steel in her, the way she’d sliced apart the praying mantis demons in his house with all the calm of a bride cutting slices of wedding cake.

Julian was quietly listening to his family talk. Even though he wasn’t looking at Emma, an almost visible energy crackled between them. Kit remembered the way Emma had said this isn’t Julian’s kind of place to his father—one of the first things he’d heard her say, in the Market—and the way her voice had seemed to hug the syllables of his name.

Parabatai were strange. So close, and yet it wasn’t a marriage, yet it was more than a best friendship. There was no real analogue in the mundane world. And it drew him, the idea of it, of being connected to someone like that, the way all the dangerous and beautiful things of the Shadowhunter world drew him.

Maybe Ty . . .

Julian stood up, setting Tavvy down in an armchair. He stretched out his arms, cracking the sinews in his wrists. “The thing is, we need Kieran,” he said.

Evelyn snorted. “Imagine needing a faerie lord,” she said. “For anything.”

Julian whispered something in Tavvy’s ear. A moment later he was on his feet. “Miss Highsmith,” he said. “My little brother is exhausted, but he says he doesn’t know where his bedroom is. Can you show him?”

Evelyn looked irritably from Julian to Tavvy, who smiled angelically at her, showing off his dimples. “Can’t you escort the child?”

“I’ve only just arrived,” said Julian. “I don’t know where the room is.” He added his own smile to Tavvy’s. Julian could radiate charm when he wanted to; Kit had nearly forgotten.

Evelyn looked around to see if there were any volunteers to take over for her; no one moved. Finally, with a disgusted snort, she snapped her fingers at Tavvy, said, “Well, come on then, child,” and stalked from the room with him in tow.