Engagement

Clary's chest rose and fell anxiously as she sat outside her father's privy chamber later that night. The musicians had long since stopped their playing, the dancers their twirling, the lords their gambling and the ladies their gossiping. Silence had fallen over the castle, interrupted only by the crackle of the fire in the grate and the beat of Clary's heart pulsing through her veins. Behind the closed doors, Jace and her father were coming to terms on a bride price, though it seemed pointless as they all knew that no matter how small the bid, Jace would accept. Still, Valentine seemed to want to do this right, and was making all the necessary arrangements.

I wonder how much I'm worth, Clary mused, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. Probably less than my father's best horse. At least a horse can be ridden. At the thought, Clary's cheeks turned bright red as she couldn't help but recall her father's demand of her. I guess the price is really for the prince I'll carry, and he's got to be worth something.

Almost unconsciously, Clary's hand came to rest on her belly. It was empty now, and she intended to keep it that way for a while, but what if her father had other plans? She shuddered at the idea of bringing a child into this family. Valentine was bad enough, but Jonathan would be an absolute nightmare. A baby boy would represent everything he despised: the son of his greatest rival, the son of the woman who should have been his, and the heir to his throne. No, Clary wouldn't bring a child into this family unless under force.

Suddenly, there was a creak from behind her and Clary spun about. Lurking in the shadows, eyes resting on Clary, was Jonathan. When he saw her watching, he smiled wolfishly and drew closer. There was a sharpness to his tread that reminded Clary of one of his hunting dogs. She drew back, hoping that her father and Jace would soon be done and she could lock herself in her rooms for the night.

"Hello, dear sister," Jonathan said smoothly. "What are you doing out so late and so alone? I would have thought you and your lover boy would be secreted away somewhere."

Clary tried to ignore the blow to Jace and her pride. "I would if I could, but since he's with father discussing our wedding, I can't exactly be enjoying a good romp, now can I?"

"That's vulgar language for a proper woman," Jonathan said sharply.

"Well, I figured that your behavior is vulgar, so why not my mouth?" Clary offered him a polite smile. "We are, after all, brother and sister."

"So easy to forget," Jonathan murmured in return, and then drew level to Clary. He almost at once spotted the necklace. "So, I see you still wear my gift."

Clary's hand shot to the rose at her throat. "Not quite, brother. This belonged to Jace's mother, which I suppose is where you got it." Clary cringed as Jonathan smiled at some memory. "I returned it to him one day, and tonight, he gave it to me as a display of his love and intentions. So, really, it is a gift from Jace. You, on the other hand, were just pawning off something stolen."

Jonathan's hand snapped out before Clary could stop it, and he curled his fist around the rose. "Be careful how you throw your words around, sister. I'm a short man, I've always been short, and I don't like it when something else is short with me. I gave you this, and you know it."

"Say what you will, it doesn't change the fact that I'm marrying Jace." Clary jerked back, tearing the rose from his grip. "In fact, I'll be marrying him soon, since Father is even now agreeing on a bride price, and once I'm married I'll never have to suffer your presence again."

"Well, until that time," growled Jonathan, "you'll have to suffer. You're my sister, and even if you're married, you're still my subject. Don't think you can escape me just because you hide behind the name Herondale."

"I won't hide," said Clary with a smile. "I will flaunt myself before you with the knowledge that you can't touch me. I will dance, sing, ride and live before your very eyes, but I will do it all for my husband, Jace."

Jonathan anger seemed to have peeked then, for he lunged at her. For the briefest moment Clary felt his fingers wrap about her arm and the nails dig in. She felt the sharp pain lace up her arm, and she reacted instinctively, flinching away. However, the door opened then and Jace came out looking pleased but distracted. When his eyes landed on the sight of Clary withering in Jonathan's grip, he snarled silently and threw himself between them.

"Let go of her!" he ordered, pressing Clary against the wall behind him and making himself a barrier between them. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"She is my sister," Jonathan snapped. "I will do as I will with her, and you would do well remember your place, Duke."

"Husband trumps brother," Jace said shortly, and he produced a small ring, which he swiftly slid onto Clary's finger. "You father and I have come to an agreement, and Clary and I are to be wed on the first of next month. Now, she is my betrothed, and loyal first and foremost to me."

"I will be king-"

Jace snorted derisively. "Yes, until my son is born and named the heir to the throne. You have no wife, nor will your father seek to forge you a marriage unless to another shadowhunter, so you will never have a son. However, your nephew will have the blood of the Angel. You're nothing but a pretender sitting on the throne." Clary was shocked. No one had ever spoken to her brother so cruelly and so mockingly with no fear of retribution. Jonathan must have been just as surprised because for once he seemed lost for words. "Clary, come with me. Jonathan, you should speak with your father. I'm sure you have much to discuss."

Jonathan mouthed at him, but Jace took Clary's hand and led her away. Clary was stumbling wildly. "Jace, you can't do that! Jonathan-Jonathan will be furious. He-he'll come after me and come after you-"

"I'm not worried about what Jonathan will do to me, but as for you, I want you to lock the door to your room every night and bolt it from the inside. Keep Luke by you at all times when I'm not there." Jace was walking swiftly, more dragging her than leading. "I know your father trained you to fight, so you'll have weapons. Keep one with you and use one to hold the handles shut."

"Don't worry about it," Clary said softly. She pulled Jace to a stop and carefully removed a small blade from the folds of her dress. Jace recognized it at once as a stele. "My father, he showed me how to use the runes, and he showed me how to use my gift."

"You're gift?"

"I will show you," she said, and took him to her room. He followed her in and she closed the door. Before Jace's eyes she flicked the blade at the door, drawing a rune he had never seen. When Clary gestured at the door Jace tried it, and the door stayed firmly shut.

"How did you do that?" Jace asked in awe. "I've never seen that rune before."

"Of course not," Clary said matter-of-factly. "I've only just made it, but it will hold fast, even against Jonathan-I think."

"You can make new runes?"

Clary turned away and shrugged delicately. "I don't know why, only that I can. My father said I am gifted, and since I was born, I could. I don't ask when I receive a gift."

"If you could lock this door, why not do it at all times?" Jace tried the handle with his own runes, but the door stayed firm.

"I do-now," Clary whispered. "When I was a girl I was too afraid my father would catch me misusing my gift, so I didn't risk it. Only recently have I started locking my doors again. It will stay closed till I open it."

Jace nodded, wondering at the small woman before him. "Good. Keep this door locked at night, sleep with the knife and Luke by your side, and open this door only for me in the morning. I will come for you every day."

Clary felt her heart pound. "Will you really? And are we really going to be married on the first of next month?"

Jace nodded stiffly. "Yes. Until that time, though, I think we should be careful of Jonathan. You especially. Once we're married it will be easier for me to protect you."

Protect me? Clary wondered, never having been offered the service before. "Do you want me to lock your door at night? That way, Jonathan won't get to you either."

"No," Jace said, eyeing the rune. He reached out and cupped Clary's cheek in his palm. "I can replicate it. Just keep an eye on yourself, Clary, I can take care of myself."

Clary wanted to curl up in his arms, but as she couldn't, she closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of Jace. "I can't thank you enough for what you're doing. You don't understand just how horrible it has been, how much I've had to suffer at his hands-"

"Stop speaking, Clary," Jace ordered, his gold eyes burning. "I don't want to know how you've been hurt, because I don't think I can get the revenge I'd like to take if I knew. Just know that if I could, I would avenge your suffering twofold. However, since I can't, I shall multiply your enjoyment twofold."

"I would take any enjoyment at this point," Clary sighed and then took his hand in hers. "You swear you'll come and get me tomorrow morning?"

"First thing," he said, and then, in very proper and calm way, took Clary's right hand and kissed it. Clary felt her fingers tingle as he bowed and left. When the door had closed she stared at it stupidly before she remembered that she had promised Jace she'd lock it.

That evening, Clary prepared for bed alone having sent Isabelle away. She considered the slave girl as she sat before her mirror and brushed her hair. She had summoned Isabelle back to her not two days after Jace had kissed her. She said simply she was sorry and would love to have Isabelle back in her service. Isabelle had smiled simply and come back with a silent grace. Clary had, almost at once, told Isabelle about Jace's past. She had since proven a useful ally, always there when Clary needed her, a confidant of Clary's fears, and relaxing company in the evenings. However, this night, the night her father agreed to the wedding, she'd wanted to be alone. This think and to dream and to make silly faces at herself in the mirror.

Clary turned back the covers of her bed and slid under the heavy blankets. "Luke, Luke come here, boy!" Clary watched Luke pad in, hovering at first by the door as if uncertain he was even welcome. He had always been like that, Clary noticed, never comfortable in her room, always pausing to check about him. She supposed he was just always on his guard. "You have to sleep with me now, Luke; I can't be alone."

Luke's ears perked up and he carefully jumped on her bed. He settled at her feet, curled up and watching the door. The last thing Clary did before curling up to sleep was tuck a blade under her pillow, the handle poised perfectly for her to grab it. She swiftly put out the lamp beside her and drifted off to sleep, the thought of her impending wedding on her mind.

The announcement of the Duke Jace Herondale and the Princess Clarissa Morgenstern's engagement spread like wildfire through the ranks of the court. The first to hear, naturally, were all Clary's potential rivals; the women who had looked at Jace and wondered just how far out of their reach he was, had calculated their chances of rising in status using only their charm and beauty. They were the first to know, and the first to whisper it further down the line, their voices bitter. From them, the men of status took notice. At first, the men thought it was just suspicions of the ladies, but soon, they were hearing it on all sides, from proper ladies, maids, even a few murmured notices of the slaves. There could be no mistake that the duke was engaged. Though the men were not gossips the occasional mention of the engagement was loud enough to trickle down to the lowest court members: the knights, the land lords, the mayors and so on. In a day, it seemed the entire world had been made aware.

When Clary arrived in court, dressed in a flattering gold and cream gown, eyes turned on her. She had expected this, been preparing in her room for it, and had already planned her strategy for answering what was going to be an assault of questions. She, Isabelle, and Jace had thought the best thing to do was to be both happy and gushing. It would be a good ruse to hide the truth behind their engagement: Valentine's desire to control the remaining shadowhunters. Clary would be the blushing bride, bursting with joy at the very mention.

"Princess," said one of the ladies, trying, and failing, at pretending to be serious. "I've heard the most interesting little thing."

Clary batted her lashes. "How little?"

The woman paused, trying to gather herself. "Well, I've heard that you've become engaged. And to the duke, no less! Such a sudden decision since you've only known each other a week at most."

"We've known each other longer," Clary began. "My mother, and the Duchess, at the time, were good friends. We were betrothed in the cradle."

"Then it's true!" said one of the ladies, and her eyes held all the condemnation they could at the royal family keeping such secrets. "How long, then, will the engagement last?"

Clary held out her hand, the ring glinting on her finger, for inspection. "Just for the rest of the month. Soon, I will be the Duchess Herondale." For good measure, Clary sighed breathlessly.

"Your family must be so pleased," cooed the Lady Cecilia. She was eyeing Clary with something akin to poorly disguised distaste. She didn't think it very fair that while the Princess seemed to have everything she could ever desire, she could still reach out her hand and pluck up the most eligible bachelor. "I suppose the celebrations will be excellent?"

"I certainly hope so," Clary said, and summoned a maid with her sewing basket. "I haven't spoken much with my father about the plans, but I can only think that it shall be done in proper fashion with dancing, and music, and entertainments of every sort. Everyone will be invited, of course."

"Of course," said another lady.

Clary carefully began plucking her way through the basket, her fingers brushing over the string and needles, but she paused thoughtfully when her finger tips came into contact with something not found in her sewing basket. She glanced down and purred in pleasant surprise.

"What is this?" she asked, the ladies around her squirming to see what Clary had found. She removed from the basket, a small but perfect rose. Around the stem was a small note. She plucked the note off and read it aloud. "A rose for my perfect flower. With love, your admiring Duke."

"Why that is just beautiful!" cried the older matron beside Clary. "Such a lovely thought the Duke sends."

"Yes, I thought so," said Clary, pleased.

Lady Cecilia stared at the rose, forcing her lips into a smile, but grinding her teeth. She had never been presented such a sweet gift before. Yes, she'd had jewels and words and flowers, but to given such a perfect rose by a man who clearly adored you was something Cecilia had never received. She had an urge to rise and leave the room, but propriety held her back and manners kept her silent and smiling.

"It will be difficult, of course," Clary went on, looking down, the picture of innocence, "to plan a wedding with no mother. I have no desire to leave it to my father alone, but I can think of no one else to help. The Duchess is dead, so there is no one. I do hope I don't botch the whole thing."

"Of course you won't," one of the older women said. "You will have nothing but the finest things. Your wedding will be a stunning hit, the celebration of the year, talked about for ages."

Clary smiled graciously. "Thank you."

Afterward, as Clary seemed content to do nothing but stare at her rose and smile, the ladies began sewing or reading, singing or composing. It was a quiet morning after that, accompanied by the occasional murmured comment, mostly circulating around the princess. When the horn sounded announcing the arrival of the king and the rest of the court, Clary looked up, holding the rose in the light for all to see. When she spotted Jace, a small, knowing smile curled her lips.

"Clarissa," Valentine called, drawing Jace forward. Jonathan, who had been standing to the right of Valentine, was forced to move aside. His eyes narrowed at the sight of Jace. "Come here, daughter. Have you told your ladies the good news?"

Clary rose gracefully and came forward to greet her father with the rose in her hand. "Even had I meant to keep it a secret, father, the Duke has taken me by surprise. I found this in my sewing basket this morning." Clary held the rose up for his inspection.

"How very considerate," Valentine mused. He plucked the rose up and inspected it, slowly, he nodded as if it had met some standard. When Valentine gave Clary back the rose he snatched her hand and held up the ring. "Well, for those who have failed to understand, the Duke Herondale has proposed to my daughter. They shall be married next month."

There was an enthusiastic applause. Clary bowed perfectly, and when she came up, it was Jace who was holding her hand. He smiled when she met his eye and kissed the ring. He turned to face the crowd. "I hope you will all join us for this happy celebration."

The rest of the day passed by for Clary in a blur of courtiers, mostly women, coming forward to congratulate her. She took lunch among the ladies who all offered their best bits of advice for her wedding. After, she went back to the Queen's chamber and practiced her music idly. However, when the bell for dinner sounded and she was escorted by Jace, she caught sight of Jonathan, and she knew whatever joy she had was short lived.

Jonathan watched as Clary ate and then spent the rest of the evening twirling on Jace's arm, and when the final stanzas of the music was strung, Clary felt his eyes on her. She looked up and saw there was dark calculation in his eyes. He caught her watching and smiled.

"Clarissa, Jace, would you please stay a moment?" It was Valentine. He was sipping his wine as they passed and when they turned to face him, he swirled the wine, splashing a little on them. "I feel I have a matter I'd like to discuss."

Clary felt Jace push her behind him protectively. "And what is that, my lord?"

"I feel there had been some unwarranted tension between you two and my son," he began. "Perhaps some words have been said, looks exchanged. Regardless of what it was, I won't have you two picking fights in my court." His eyes flicked over Jace. "I spared you so far, Duke, because it suited my purpose. You two should bear in mind why you are here in the first place."

"We have not forgotten, father," Clary piped up. "Jonathan has hounded us-"

"She's lying," Jonathan put in sharply.

Whatever Valentine's thoughts on the matter he didn't say, though from the look he cast at Jonathan he sensed the lie, and from the look he leveled Clary with, he was unamused. "I don't really care what either of you have to say. I am only concerned with the appearance you give to the court. Where appearance is concerned, Jonathan can at least conduct himself with some amount of propriety."

Jonathan smiled swiftly, sensing his victory.

"We will certainly take care to conduct ourselves with a higher level of respect towards-"

"Silence, boy," Valentine said, rising. He stepped down from the platform and stood before Clary and Jace like an imposing wall. His hand shot out before Clary could warn Jace, and curled around Jace's hair. He jerked the young man forward and Jace fell to his knees, holding back any yelp of pain he would normally have released. Clary rushed forward but Valentine raised his hand threateningly. "Control yourself, daughter. Now, I will only say this once. I don't care how much it hurts-" here, he twisted his fingers tighter in Jace's hair "-I don't care how degraded you feel, you will act like what you are: a lord and lady of high rank. Is that understood?"

"Yes, father," Clary said after a beat.

It was Jace who remained thoughtfully silent. After a minute of Valentine staring at him, he cleared his throat. "How can we swear to it when Jonathan won't? If we can't defend ourselves from him, certainly he will attack?"

Valentine considered this a moment and then struck Jace across the face casually. "You raise a good point, but, interestingly enough, I couldn't care less. I am, after all, partial to my own children's needs than to those of a son-in-law. You will just have to learn to bear this."

"And will it be that way until the day I die?" Jace challenged, though Clary was squeezing his shoulder in warning.

"No," said Valentine smartly, tossing Jace down. "Just until the day you give me a grandson. Then I will value you and Clarissa most of my servants and I will heed your words. However, until that day, you will rank below my next heir."

"We understand, father," Clary said, this time louder. "Both Jace and I understand and will do as you say."

Valentine reached into his pocket and produced his stele. "I mean to make you understand."

"Father," Clary said, a soft pleading in her voice. "Please, you don't have to do this."

"I'm afraid I do," he replied, and took Jace's arm in his hand. He caressed the wrist, looking at it like an empty canvas. Then, before Jace comprehend what he was doing, Valentine plunged the blade into his arm, but, instead of drawing out the swirling runes, he just sliced and carved at his flesh. Jace began to squirm, gasping at intervals. When Valentine was complete, he moved to the other wrist and performed the same, debilitating strokes. Clary watched, helpless.

"Now, my dear daughter, see your fiancé away from me and make certain those wounds are gone by tomorrow morning. I believe Jace has a fitting for his wedding attire and it would be hard to explain such ugly scars."

Then Valentine turned and left as if nothing had happened, as if he had not just tortured his future son-in-law, as if he was not insane. Clary watched him go, holding Jace tightly and sobbing. Jonathan rose and smiled down at the two of them. The scent of Jace's blood was an intoxicating as wine. Before he left, he came to Clary and kissed her cheek, enjoying the sight of a furious Jace.

After a long minute in which Clary sobbed and Jace rasped, Clary managed to find her voice. "Hurry, I'll get you to my room and then have Isabelle go for Magnus."