Lord of Shadows The Dark Artifices 2

“No one can kill one of the Riders of Mannan,” said Gwyn.

“Emma could,” said Livvy. “If Cortana—”

Kit’s knees gave out. It was very sudden and he hadn’t expected it at all. One moment he was standing, the next he was kneeling in a cold puddle, wondering why he couldn’t get up.

“Kit!” Diana cried. “Alec, he hit his head during the fight—he said it didn’t hurt, but—”

Alec was already striding over to Kit. He was stronger than he looked. His arms braced Kit, lifting him; a hot dart of pain went through Kit’s head as he moved, and a merciful grayness closed in.

*   *   *

They lay on the bed afterward in the twilight dark, Emma with her head on Julian’s chest. She could hear his heart beating through the soft material of his T-shirt.

They had toweled their hair and put on dry clothes and curled up together under one layer of blankets. Their feet were tangled together; Julian was running a slow, thoughtful hand through her loose hair.

“Tell me,” he said. “You said there was something I needed to know. And I stopped you.” He paused. “Tell me now.”

She folded her arms on his chest, resting her chin on them. There was relaxation in the curve of his body around hers. But his expression was more than curious; she could see the intensity in the back of his eyes, his need to know. To make sense out of all the pieces that didn’t make sense now.

“I was never dating Mark,” she said. “That was all a lie. I asked him to pretend to be dating me, and he had said he owed me his life before, so he agreed. It was never real.”

His fingers stilled in her hair. Emma swallowed. She had to get through all this without thinking of whether Julian would hate her at the end. Otherwise she’d never be able to finish.

“Why would you do that?” he said carefully. “Why would Mark agree to hurt me?”

“He didn’t know it was hurting you,” Emma said. “He never knew there was anything between us—not until we went to Faerie. He found out then, and he told me we had to end it. That’s why I stopped things in London. Mark didn’t mind. We didn’t feel that way about each other.”

“So Mark didn’t know,” he said. “Why did you do it, then?” He held up a hand. “Never mind. I know the answer: to stop me loving you. To break us up. I even know why you picked Mark.”

“I wish it could have been anyone else—”

“No one else would have made me hate you,” he said flatly. “Nobody else would have made me give you up.” He propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at her. “Make me understand,” he said. “You love me and I love you, but you wanted to wreck all that. You were so determined you brought Mark into it, which I know you’d never do if you weren’t desperate. So what made you so desperate, Emma? I know being in love with your parabatai is forbidden, but it’s a stupid Law—”

“It’s not,” she said, “a stupid Law.”

He blinked. His hair was dry now. “Whatever you know, Emma,” he said in a low voice, “it’s time to tell me.”

So she did. Leaving nothing out, she told him what Malcolm had said to her about the parabatai curse, how he was showing her mercy, killing her, when otherwise she and Julian would watch each other die. How the Nephilim hated love. What Jem had confirmed for her: the terrible fate of parabatai who fell in love; the death and destruction they would bring down around them. How she knew that neither of them could ever become mundanes or Downworlders to break the bond: how being Shadowhunters was part of their souls and their selves, how the exile from their families would destroy them.

The light from the fire threw a dark gold glow across his face, his hair, but she could see how pale he was, even under that, and the starkness that took over his expression as she spoke, as if the shadows were growing harsher. Outside, the rain poured steadily down.

When she was done, he was silent a long time. Emma’s mouth was dry, as if she’d been swallowing cotton. Finally she could stand it no longer and moved toward him, knocking the pillow onto the floor. “Jules—”

He held a hand up. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

She looked at him miserably. “Because of what Jem said. That finding out that what we had was forbidden for good reason would just make it worse. Believe me, knowing what I know hasn’t made me love you any less.”

His eyes were such a dark blue in the dim light they looked like Kit’s. “So you decided to make me hate you.”

“I tried,” she whispered. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“But I could never hate you,” he said. “Hating you would be like hating the idea of good things ever happening in the world. It would be like death. I thought you didn’t love me, Emma. But I never hated you.”

“And I thought you didn’t love me.”

“And it didn’t make any difference, did it? We still loved each other. I understand why you were so upset about what we did to Porthallow Church, now.”

She nodded. “The curse makes you stronger before it makes you destructive.”