They stood in the deep hills of Idris, the sunset just low enough to frame the massive crowd of bodies of demons. Clary could vaguely see Valentine at the front of the group, standing there in all his evil, stubborn glory, silver-tinted hair shining off of the sun. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, shaking with rage.
"Clary," Jace whispered, his head inclined towards her just a little, his eyes looking at her out of the corners. She breathed in deeply, her forehead crinkling.
She wanted to grab for a seraph blade — she had at least two on her belt — but she couldn't. It felt like any movement, any sound would begin the battle. She was afraid her trembling would start up the roars of the fight. She wanted to grab her mother's stele and trace a fearless rune all across her arm. Maybe that would stop her shaking.
Jace grabbed her hand in a swift movement that was hard to follow. His warm hand encompassed hers steadily, squeezing it with reassurance.
"I love you, Clary," he whispered.
"I love you too, Jace."
And then they sprung.
(A/N: Just a short drabble/ficlet/poetry thing. I haven't finished City of Glass yet, this is just a view of what I might-maybe-possibly-so happen.)