Sinful

A/N

I'm glad that I got a couple of favorites/story alerts! Thank you so much.

But seriously, review!

All beginnings are always rocky, but please stay with me.

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Chapter One

"The only angel who sees us now watches through each other's eyes."

-Rickie Lee Jones

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CLARY

I woke up to a soft chirping outside my older sister and mine's bedroom window, sunlight gently streaming through the glass panes. Blinking tiredly, I rolled over onto my back and pushed the blanket off me. It was tangled around my body and was quite heavy so my efforts brought a halt to my older sister's slumber.

"Clary," she grumbled, "It better not be as early as it feels. Stupid birds."

I grinned and glanced at the clock.

"Isabelle, It's noon."

She shot up off her pillow, her hair wild and her clothes rumpled.

"What? Seriously? Come on, Clary, we overslept!" she yelled, leaping gracefully off the bed and already dashing toward the bathroom.

"Calm down, Isabelle, what's the rush?" I muttered scornfully, too drowsy to do anything yet.

She turned off the water running from the sink faucet and gave me a wide-eyed look of disbelief.

"Clary, I can't believe you forgot what day today is."

"I won't know unless you tell me, Isabelle!" I said irritably.

"Today's the day we, meaning you, me, Father, and Simon, visit the King of Stygian!"

A flash of recognition passed through me as I remembered Father, King Luke Garroway of Elan, reminding me that today was the day where we took a "friendly" visit to our neighboring city (and rival) Stygian. No one was looking forward to it except Isabelle. For some reason, she found the shambles of a city and the carnage of the war interesting. However, she is completely against the War, and she then tries to convince Father to end it.

He always responded with a tired smile and a "Soon, Izzy, soon." Eventually, soon wasn't enough for Isabelle and now her and Father never see eye-to-eye, providing awkward silences in meals and never ending grudges. It was, honestly, very tiring.

A loud knock echoed through our room.

"You girls are so slow!" Simon's voice came through the door, "I can't believe you two are my sisters."

"Shut up, Simon!" we yelled back simultaneously, grinning at each other.

Simon made a noise of impatience as he walked down the hall, away from our room. His footsteps clacked on the marble floor, quieted, and only when they disappeared did I push myself off my bed.

Once we both freshened up and put on some suitable riding clothes, we walked into the hall to find Jocelyn, our somewhat maternal maid, waiting for us.

"Ladies! You are quite late, Prince Simon is getting fidgety and your Father impatient…" she wrung her hands nervously at the thought.

Isabelle flapped a hand as I rolled my eyes.

"Jocelyn, don't worry about such things. We're never late," she announced with an arrogant tilt of her chin.

It was Jocelyn's turn to sigh. "Just come along."

We followed her hurried footsteps down the hall and through the courtyard. By the time we reached the front entrance of the palace, we were both breathing quite heavily from the early exercise.

Father and Simon were there with their horses all saddled up, and they were kind enough to bring ours too.

"Thanks, Simon," I told him as I took my reins from him, "I owe you one."

"No, you owe me a lot more than that," he replied, brushing his chestnut hair away from his forehead.

I smacked him playfully as we began to ride away, a cool breeze tickling my shoulders.

"Here, you three, A quick breakfast," Father said as he passed us a piece of grilled toast with a fried egg on top. "It's not much, but you take what you can get."

We said our thanks and tried our best to eat while our horses jostled on the bumpy road.

The silence seemed to stretch on as our path continued, when one of our guards, Garrett, stuck out his hand to indicate for our party to stop. We tugged our reins as his eyes raked the clearing.

"I heard something. I know it," he muttered, a hand on his sword.

Father was reaching for his sword as well when a rustle was heard from our left.

My head swiveled toward the noise as a ragged figure jumped out of the bushes, a loaded crossbow in hand.

"At arms!" Garrett yelled, and our guards unsheathed their swords and shields. "You will not come any closer to this riding party!"

"What makes you think that I'll listen to what you have to say, Elan dog?" the man growled, and he fired the bow.