Chapter 1

A girl stood in the training room, flinging blades with deadly precision. The blades hit the target time and again with a resounding thud. Clary Fairchild stood at the doorway, watching silently as her heart swelled with pride. A fine shadowhunter she would become.

As though felt like she was being watched, she whirled around with the grace of a ballerina. Then again, that was one of the many trades she'd inherited from her father. Her hair was the colour of rich gold, cascading around her face in silky waves. Emerald green eyes rested upon Clary's small frame.

"Mom, I'll be down for dinner in a minute. I swear," she smiled coyly, her eyes speaking an entirely different promise. Clary groaned inwardly.

"Why do I doubt that?" Clary sighed and continued, "That's not really why I came up here, Aurea. The Carstairs will be coming from the Los Angeles Institute next week. You remember Owen Carstairs, don't you? Be nice."

Aurea Herondale feigned an expression of mock horror, clutching her chest, "How could you say that, Mother? I'm always nice! Alas, my own mother doubts the goodness of my heart. I am deeply wounded."

Clary rolled her eyes at her daughter. Herondales, she thought. A warm chest pressed against her back, strong arms circling around her waist. Clary leaned her head back and glanced up, already knowing who it was. Jace Herondale.

It had been nineteen years since they'd gotten married. Jace had grown slightly taller and more muscular, though his humour remained unchanged. He still looked like the golden lion boy that Clary met twenty one years ago, perhaps a little older. Age had been kind to him, like tender hands molding an exquisite sculpture.

"Dinner time," Jace Herondale announced, "Tonight, we feast on hedgehogs. Come now, the hedgehogs await our arrival." Clary smacked his arm but smiled.

In a week, they would finally meet up with the Carstairs whom they had not seen in years. Theresa Gray would certainly not have aged. Clary wondered how James Carstairs and his seventeen year old son might have changed.

She had last seen the young Carstairs at a Christmas dinner ten years ago. The boy had dark hair, somewhere between kobicha and black. His eyes, however, were a beautiful storm gray. Owen had been a quiet boy who'd seemed to develop an early love for reading. Even at the age of seven, he had been engrossed in his book, only putting it down when his mother nudged him to say hello. Clary was fond of the boy.

Seeing that Clary was lost in thought, Jace picked her up and slung her over his shoulder, marching down with her shouting in protest. Once again, Aurea was alone in the training room.

Owen Carstairs? She thought. A scrawny boy with dark hair and pretty eyes came to mind. He'd held her hand once when everyone had congregated around the Christmas tree on Boxing Day. She vaguely remembered him giving her one of his books, wrapped clumsily in metallic blue paper. Aurea shrugged but looked forward to seeing him in a week.

Owen Carstairs sat on his bed, his hair rumpled from going through them with his fingers. It was a week till the trip to the New York Institute. Thinking of Aurea Herondale, with golden waves framing her face and her striking green eyes, made his heart clench. His heart did somersaults, thumping irregularly and loudly.

"Owen Carstairs," called a steady voice from the door. He raised his head and found his mother leaning by the door. Tessa Gray had not changed since he could remember.

"You did remember to pick a gift for Aurea, right? Clarissa Herondale told me she likes knives..."

Of course he'd remembered. He remembered the first time he'd seen her at Christmas, he couldn't stop staring at her. When she went to the training room to throw knives, he'd followed her there secretly. It was there that he realised her liking of knives.

Owen nodded his head and Tessa smiled knowingly. He had boxed the sleek blade and added a purple ribbon as a final touch.

"Give the present when you see her," Tessa called out, before turning her back and walking back down the corridor.

Turning back to his copy of A Tale Of Two Cities, Owen sighed. For all he knew, she probably didn't have any recollection of him... That would be really awkward when he gives her the carefully wrapped present.

Beside him, Church meowed, curling into a ball on his pillow. Owen was one of the few people Church actually liked. The feline had a habit of scratching anyone who came too close for comfort. Apparently, due to some ancient reason, Church had seen the world longer than any cat should have. Perhaps this was why the cat always seemed bored.

The soothing melody of a violin drifted down the hallway. James Carstairs was playing again. As a child, Owen loved to watch his father's elegant fingers move from string to string, creating beautiful music. He hoped that one day he'd be just as good as his father.

Thaddia Shadowhunter watched her mother and father lock hands. Isabelle and Simon had been married for seventeen years. When Simon Ascended, he had chosen the name, Shadowhunter. Apparently, somewhere along the family line, an ancestor had also chosen the name Shadowhunter after Ascension. At sixteen years, Thaddia was tall, hazel-eyed and also Aurea Herondale's parabatai.

Both Shadowhunters and Herondales reside in the New York Institute, with Isabelle Shadowhunter as the Head of the Institute. Thaddia and Aurea had known each other for as long as they could remember.

"Ted!" Somebody hissed from behind. It was Aurea.

"Hedgehogs for dinner, what do you say?" Thaddia blanched.

"Of course not, who on earth gave you that idea? Those poor things served on a platter? Count me out."

Aurea chuckled, "My father did. And shouldn't you be worrying about me instead? I'll emerge from the dining room with spikes poking out of my mouth."

"Let me present you with a simple step-by-step method. First, pluck the spikes out. Second, cook it. Third, eat." Thaddia rolled her eyes.

"Ah, a wise solution. But what fun is there in consuming a hedgehog without its spikes?" Aurea grinned and skipped out of the room.

Thaddia laughed softly, before following her out of the room.