Lord of Shadows The Dark Artifices 2

Helen smiled at that. “She is the light of my days.” She glanced up at the large clock over the dais. “We have little time now, Mark. If all goes as we hope, we will have forever to confer with one another. But either way, Aline and I will remain this night in Alicante, and from what Jia says, so will you. It will give us a chance to talk.”

“That depends how tonight goes, doesn’t it?” A sharp voice interrupted them. It was Samantha Larkspear. Mark vaguely remembered that she had a brother who looked a great deal like her.

She wore Centurion gear and carried a placard that said THE ONLY GOOD FAERIE IS A DEAD FAERIE. There was a blob of what looked like black paint at the bottom of the sign.

“Pithy,” Mark said. But Helen had paled with shock, staring at the words on the placard.

“After this afternoon’s vote, if scum like you are allowed in Alicante, I’d be very surprised,” Samantha said. “Enjoy it while you can.”

“You’re talking to the wife of the Consul’s daughter,” said Aline, her nostrils flaring. “Watch your mouth, Samantha Larkspear.”

Samantha made an odd, gulping, hissing noise, and reached for her weapons belt, flashing a dagger with a thick knuckle-guard hilt. Mark could see her brother, pale and black-haired as she was, pushing toward them through the crowd. Helen had her hand on the seraph blade in her belt. Moving instinctively, Mark reached for the blade at his own hip, tensed for violence.

*   *   *

Kit looked up when Julian’s hand fell on his shoulder.

He’d been slouching in his chair, mostly looking at Alicante through the big glass window behind the wooden stagelike thing at the front of the room. He’d been deliberately not looking at Livvy and Ty greeting their sister. Something about the tight knot of Blackthorns hugging and exclaiming over each other reminded him exactly how much he wasn’t one of them in a way he hadn’t been reminded since Los Angeles.

“Your sister’s here,” he said to Julian. He pointed. “Helen.”

Julian glanced over at his siblings briefly; Kit had the feeling he already knew. He looked tense and sparking at the edges, like snapped electrical wire.

“I need you to do something,” he said. “Alec’s guarding the east doors to the Hall. Go find him and bring him to Magnus. Tell him Magnus is in the Consul’s guest quarters; he’ll know where that is.”

Kit swung his legs off the chair in front of him. “Why?”

“Just trust me.” Julian stood up. “Make it look like it’s your idea, like you need Alec to show you something or help you find someone. I don’t want anyone’s curiosity stirred up.”

*   *   *

“You’re not really thinking about fighting in the middle of the Council Hall, are you?” said Emma. “I mean, considering that would be illegal and all that.” She clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Not a good idea, Samantha. Put that dagger away.”

The small group—Helen, Aline, Mark, and Samantha—turned to stare at Emma as if she’d appeared in a puff of smoke. They’d all been too angry to notice her approach.

The gold clock overhead began to chime urgently. The crowd started to unknot itself, Shadowhunters searching for empty seats in the rows facing the dais. Dane Larkspear, who’d been coming toward his sister, had halted in the middle of an aisle; Emma saw to her surprise that Manuel was blocking his way.

Maybe Manuel didn’t think a Centurion brawling on the floor of the Council Hall would be a great idea either. Zara was looking over too, her red mouth set in an angry line.

“You don’t get to pull rank on me, Aline Penhallow,” said Samantha, but she shoved her dagger back into its sheath. “Not when you’re married to that—that thing.”

“Did you draw that?” Emma interrupted, pointing at the blobby sketch on Samantha’s placard. “Is that supposed to be a dead faerie?”

She was pretty sure it was. The sketch had arms and legs and dragonfly wings, sort of.

“Impressive,” said Emma. “You’ve got talent, Samantha. Real talent.”

Samantha looked surprised. “You think so?”

“God, no,” said Emma. “Now go and sit down. Zara’s waving at you.”

Samantha hesitated and then turned away. Emma grabbed hold of Helen’s hand. She started to walk toward the long bench where the Blackthorns were seated. Her heart was thumping. Not that Samantha was much danger, but if they’d started something, and the rest of Zara’s friends had joined in, it could have been a real fight.

Aline and Mark were on either side of them. Helen’s fingers curled around Emma’s arm. “I remember this,” she said in a low voice. Her fingertips brushed the scar that Cortana had made years ago, when Emma had clutched the blade to her body after her parents’ death.

It was Helen who had been there when Emma woke up in a world where her parents were gone forever, though it was Julian who had placed the sword in Emma’s arms.