Lord of Shadows The Dark Artifices 2

“Jace isn’t much like you,” said Kit. There was a weird dark patch of wall across from him, as if paint had smeared up and across it in almost the shape of a tree.

“That’s an understatement.” Alec piled bandages on the countertop. “But it doesn’t matter. Parabatai don’t need to be like each other. They just need to complement each other. To work well together.”

Kit thought of Jace, all shining gold and confidence, and Alec, all steady, quiet ease. “And you and Jace complement each other?”

“I remember when I met him,” Alec said. He’d found two boxes and was dumping bandages into one, jars of powder into another. “He walked out of a Portal from Idris. He was skinny and he had bruises and he had these big eyes. He was arrogant, too. He and Isabelle used to fight . . . .” He smiled at the memory. “But to me everything about him said, ‘Love me, because nobody ever has.’ It was all over him, like fingerprints.

“He was worried about meeting you,” Alec added. “He’s not used to having living blood relatives. He cared what you thought. He wanted you to like him.” He glanced over at Kit. “Here, take a box.”

Kit’s head was swimming. He thought of Jace, swaggering and amused and proud. But Alec spoke of Jace as if he saw him as a vulnerable child, someone who needed love because he’d never gotten it. “I’m no one, though,” he said, taking the box full of bandages. “Why would he care what I think? I don’t matter. I’m nothing.”

“You matter to Shadowhunters,” said Alec. “You’re a Herondale. That’ll never be nothing.”

*   *   *

Holding Rafe in her arms, Cristina sang softly. He was small for five years old, and his rest was fitful. He squirmed and sighed in his sleep, his small brown fingers twisted into a lock of his dark hair. He reminded her a little of her own small cousins, always wanting another hug, another sweet, another song before sleep.

Max, on the other hand, slept like a rock—a dark blue rock, with adorable big navy eyes and a gap-toothed grin. When Cristina, Mark, and Kieran had run down to find Alec, Magnus, and their two children in the Institute parlor, Evelyn had been there, fussing about warlocks in her house and the undesirability of being blue. Cristina hoped most adult Shadowhunters didn’t react to Max like that—it would be awfully traumatic for the poor little mite.

It seemed that Alec and Magnus had returned from a trip to find Diana’s messages asking them for help. They had Portaled to the London Institute immediately. On hearing about the binding spell from Mark and Cristina, Magnus had headed for the local Shadow Market to scout out a spell book he hoped might break the enchantment.

Rafe and Max, upon being left in a strange house with only one parent, had wailed. “Sleep,” Alec had said glumly to Rafe, carrying him into a spare room. “Adorno.”

Cristina giggled. “That means ‘ornament,’ ” she said. “Not ‘sleep.’ ”

Alec sighed. “I’m still learning Spanish. Magnus is the one who speaks it.”

Cristina smiled at Rafael, who was sniffling. She’d always sung her little cousins to sleep, just as her mother had with her; maybe Rafe would like that. “Oh, Rafaelito,” she said to him, oh, little Rafael baby. “Ya es hora de ir a dormir. ¿Te gustaría que te cante una canción?”

He nodded vigorously. “¡Sí!”

Cristina spent some time teaching Alec all the lullabies she knew while he held Max and she sat with Rafe. Not long after that, Magnus had Portaled back, and there had been a great deal of thumping and bumping from the library, and Alec had raced off, but Cristina had decided to stay where she was unless called on, because the ways of warlocks were mysterious and their charming boyfriends, too.

Besides, it was good to have something as harmless as a child to distract her from her anxiety. She was sure—relatively sure—that the binding spell could be undone. But it bothered her just the same: What if it couldn’t? She and Mark would be miserable forever, tied by a bond they didn’t want. And where would they go? What if he wanted to return to Faerie? She couldn’t possibly go with him.

Thoughts of Diego nagged at her too: she’d thought she would come back from Faerie to a message from him, but there had been nothing. Could someone disappear out of your life like that twice?

She sighed and leaned down to stroke Rafe’s hair, singing softly.

“Arrorró mi niño,

arrorró mi sol,

arrorró pedazo

de mi corazón.

Hush-a-bye my baby

Hush-a-bye my sun

Hush-a-bye, oh piece

of my heart.”

Alec had come in while she was singing, and was sitting on the bed beside Max, leaning against the wall.

“I’ve heard that song before.” It was Magnus, standing in the doorway. He looked tired, his cat’s eyes heavily lidded. “I can’t remember who was singing it.”