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…
Chapter 4: Days of Meetings
Alec rubbed his neck as he walked out of the infirmary. Fairies were annoying as hell to fight. They already seemed to follow no rules, but these fairies had also used weapons and magic spells that he didn't think he'd ever seen before. No doubt they had been some creation of the Underworld.
He gave a sigh. It was late now. He longed to go home to Magnus and the boys, collapse into bed with them around him and not think about anything else. But he needed to talk to Jace first.
About what? He asked himself as he made his way to his room. Jace had left the infirmary earlier than he had, and Alec had heard their mother tell him about needing to inform the Clave about the girl.
Moriah, Alec remembered. Her name is Moriah.
God, what would the Clave say about her? If the questioning by Mortal Sword was anything to go by, they would say nothing good and do something horrible. Alec remembered the look on Clary's face when the official from Idris called her child the 'next generation freak.' He remembered Jace's face today as he picked Moriah up and held her, looking the happiest he had seen him in months. Looking as if the little girl's black eyes weren't the most horrifying things in the world.
Shut up, Alec scolded himself. But he couldn't shake his own feeling of unease upon seeing Moriah for the first time. How the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees, how her blank stare seemed to pierce him.
Alec ran his fingers though his hair roughly. What he thought of Moriah didn't matter. It was what the Clave would think. What they needed to think about now was how on earth they were going to navigate this situation and keep Moriah safe.
He reached Jace's door. ''Jace?'' he called, knocking. The door began opening at his knock, not having been closed properly. Alec looked inside.
Jace was there, asleep on top of his bed. Clary was next to him. Alec had assumed she had gone home, but now realized how foolish that assumption was. In between them, sitting up, was Moriah.
The only light in the room came from the open window, letting in a mixture of moonlight and street lights. It enabled Alec to make out Moriah's golden hair and pale face, her black eyes fixated on him unmoving and unblinking. They stared at each other, Alec again feeling the dread and unease that he had felt when he first saw her back in the warehouse.
After a moment, Moriah seemingly decided Alec wasn't a threat. She broke eye contact with him and laid back down in between her parents, her back against Clary and her hands on Jace. Alec saw her give a little sigh and close her eyes.
Alec felt a lump in his throat. There was something almost…animal like about Moriah. A small, predator animal. One that you might call innocent even though you knew it could kill. But even if it killed, the animal couldn't be blamed, could it? After all, animals can't be immoral since they have no morals.
But Moriah wasn't an animal. She was a girl. A human girl. Clary's and Jace's girl.
She's wrong. She's wrong. She shouldn't exist she's wrong.
Alec left the Institute. He walked home to his and Magnus' loft and tried to stop the train of thoughts about Moriah in his head. He was wrong. He had to be. Moriah was just a kid, a baby practically. Babies couldn't be evil.
She's wrong. She's wrong. She's wrong.
Magnus sprang up as Alec entered the apartment. ''Are you alright?'' he asked. ''You were gone for hours. No call, no word, no-'' he paused, noticing Alec's expression. ''Alec?''
Alec leaned against the door, closing it behind him. The quiet of the apartment let him know that Rafe and Max were already in bed. ''We found her.''
Magnus blinked. ''You did? Clary's and Jace's baby, you found her?'' Alec nodded. ''That's- that's wonderful! That's good news, right? Alec?''
''No.'' Alec swallowed hard. He shook his head. ''God, Magnus, she's wrong. She's wrong. They hurt her and she's-'' he couldn't go on. Hatred for himself for even saying these words coursed through him. It shouldn't matter what Moriah was, she was Jace's daughter. What kind of parabati was he?
What kind of Shadowhunter am I if I let that thing live?
Indecision tore at Alec. He couldn't contain his cries at the unjustness of it all. Clary and Jace shouldn't have to go through this. They shouldn't have had their daughter robbed from them, changed into what she was. Moriah shouldn't have had to go though this. She shouldn't have come from a place of fear, but from a place of happiness. It wasn't fair. What had to come next wasn't going to be fair.
…
Magnus approached the Institute slowly. It was early morning, and the night had not exactly been restful. Alec had come home a mess. He was, to put it bluntly, terrified. Terrified and ashamed of being terrified. And all because of a child.
And that was the million dollar question. Was it just a child? Or was it something else? A weapon like Jonathan Christopher had been? Perhaps even 'improved' by the Underworld group that so desperately wanted to continue whatever Valentine Morgenstern had started? And if it was something else, some abomination of sorts, how was anyone going to convince two of the most stubborn Shadowhunters alive of it?
Magnus reached the Institute gate. He prepared to enter, but paused as he heard a sound from the side of the building. Cursorily he followed it, surprised to see one of the aforementioned stubborn Shadowhunters there.
Clary was sitting on a bench outside the Sanctuary door. She looked wide awake for so early in the morning. She was talking softly and sweetly to the little creature in her lap, who looked very comfortably nestled there, staring up at her mother with wide, inquisitive, black eyes.
Even before announcing his presence, the child's eyes fell on him. Clary followed her gaze and saw him. ''Magnus.''
''Hello, Biscuit,'' Magnus greeted. He came closer, standing in front of them. ''Lovely morning, no?''
Clary smiled, but Magnus saw the tension in it. She was uneasy. ''Why are you here so early?''
Magnus couldn't exactly mention his worry over how Alexander reacted last night. ''I believe congratulations are in order,'' he said instead. He looked at the child. ''This is her, then?''
Magnus saw Clary relax ever so slightly. ''Yeah. This is her. My Moriah Cèline.''
Magnus crouched down in front of them. Moriah Cèline kept her cold, black gaze on him, recoiling back against Clary as he moved. Magnus made sure to keep a respectful distance. ''Hello, Moriah Cèline.''
Clary adjusted Moriah on her lap, holding her closer and letting her face Magnus. Magnus studied her. Her blonde hair that was her father's, her face a mixture of both her parent's fine features, her cut that ran from her ear to chin, and of course, those coal black eyes. She should have been only a few months old, yet she looked like a small toddler. Moriah stared back at him too, almost as if she were studying him just as intently. She leaned forward and touched his hair, looking curiously at the glitter on it.
''You like?'' Magnus asked her. Moriah kept looking from her hand to his hair, as if trying to decide if she did. Clary gave a chuckle.
Magnus's gaze went from Clary to Moriah. As a warlock, he was good at deducing what creatures were what- never could a Downworlder try and pass themselves off as anything else to him. But something was off about Moriah, he knew that much. Only he had a growing fear it was more then either his family or the Clave knew. ''Clary?''
''Hmm?'' Clary looked up from Moriah at him. She looked happy, Magnus thought. Happier than she had in a long time. As she should, he reflected. What would he and Alec be like if Max or Rafe were taken from them and they were reunited?
Magnus hated to worry her or bring her down, but he needed to ask her. He needed to ask the questions that in all honesty, the officials from Idris should have asked and would have too, if they hadn't been so preoccupied with trying to get rid of the problem rather than understand it. ''She's not all one thing, is she?''
A guarded expression came over Clary. Her grip on Moriah tightened. ''What do you mean?''
''She might be a demon,'' Magnus continued in a low voice. Even thought they were alone in the yard, it was best to be cautious. ''But she's more than that, isn't she?''
Clary stared at him. She shook her head. ''It was dark,'' she said in voice so low Magnus had to strain to hear. ''Most of the time, the vials were black. But- but a few times I think…they might've…been different.''
She averted her gaze from him, looking down at Moriah's hair. ''You don't know what they were?'' Magnus pressed.
''No.'' She looked back at him again. ''You can't tell. Please, you can't. Everyone thinks the demon blood is bad enough, but if you throw another element of surprise in there…they won't giver her a chance. They'll condemn her before anything else. Please, Magnus, please don't say anything to anyone.''
Magnus deliberated. He looked at the little girl again, who was watching him as if waiting to hear his answer. He understood what Alec had meant about her gaze making you go cold inside. He glanced back at Clary, her face set and her eyes hard. Ignoring the unease in him, he nodded. ''You're secret's safe with me.''
Clary looked like she wanted to cry in relief. ''Thank you, Magnus. Thank you.''
Magnus didn't know if he should be thanked. He might've just made the worst decision ever. But he kept a smile on his face as he straightened up, watching as Clary hugged and kissed her daughter. Surely there was no way keeping a mother and child together could in anyway go wrong?
…
It had been three days since Clary's and Jace's daughter was found. Three days of Luke trying to get Jocelyn to tell him what happened, and three days of her avoiding the question. Three days of her walking past Clary's closed bedroom door and pretending it didn't hurt her that she wasn't on the other side of it. Three days of Luke calling Clary's cell phone, only to get her voice mail. He couldn't take anymore of this.
So that was why he got in his truck and drove to the Institute. As he went, he felt uneasy. Why, he wasn't sure. After all, he wasn't doing anyhow wrong. Whatever fight Clary and Jocelyn had needed to be resolved. And what was the harm in him finding out what happened? It couldn't be that bad.
Luke rung the Institute bell. He was admitted by Max Lightwood. ''Hi, Max.''
''Hi.'' Max pushed his glasses further on his face. He peered past Luke suspiciously. ''You alone?''
''Uh, yes?'' Luke answered in confusion. ''Why?''
Max frowned at him. He had such a studious look for such a young face. ''Because,'' he emphasized, but apparently felt no need to add to this statement. He motioned Luke inside. ''Come on.''
Luke followed him. They rode the elevator up and exited into the hallway. ''Clary's in the library,'' Max offered. He frowned at Luke again. ''If you're mean, I'll hurt you.''
''Excuse me?'' But Max walked away, disappearing into one of the Institute's many doorways.
Luke blinked in confusion after the boy. He continued in the direction of the library, his unease growing. He knew the child, Moriah Jocelyn had said her name was, was suspected of having demon blood. Had Clary and Jocelyn fought about that? Was that why Max was so suspicious?
Luke reached the library door. He knocked.
The door opened and revealed Clary. She blinked at him in surprise, looking tired and confused. With the door only half opened, it was quite reminiscent of the first time he saw her when she was five years old, looking at him when he knocked at her door and asked for her mother. ''Luke?''
''Hi, Clary.'' He inclined his head to the door. ''May I come in?''
''Is this about mom?''
''It's about you,'' he answered honestly. ''I haven't seen or heard from you in days. Please?''
Clary looked hesitant. Ever since she came back from the Fairy Realms, she had had this look of fear about her. But Luke wasn't used to having that look directed at him. Finally, she opened the door wide and ushered him in.
Luke entered and saw Clary wasn't alone in the library. Jace was there too, getting up from where he had been kneeling on the floor. There was another person as well in the room. They had been leaning against an armchair, but upon seeing Luke, fled across the room into Jace's arms. Jace picked her up and for the first time Luke saw the girl. Saw her blonde hair that fell to her shoulders, saw the cut that ran from her ear to her chin, and saw her black, black eyes. And suddenly Luke understood.
It was lucky the Morgenstern manner was surrounded by greenery. Luke crouched in the bushes, watching as Jocelyn and Clarissa exited the house. A little boy trailed after them. Jocelyn was speaking to her mother, making up an excuse about why she needed to leave all of a sudden.
''I'll be back soon,'' Luke heard her say.
Clarissa nodded and stepped back to the door way. ''Come along, Jonathan.''
But Jonathan ran to his mother. ''You said you didn't have to leave.''
''Something came up,'' Jocelyn told him, tugging on her riding gloves.
''Will you be back?''
Jocelyn crouched down in front of him. Even with his keen hearing, Luke couldn't hear what was said. Jocelyn kissed her son's hair before going to her horse. Then she was riding away, soon to be at their meeting place.
Clarissa called Jonathan to her. The little boy turned and began making his way back. Luke too began on his way, but he steeped on a twig. He was far away from the manner's front door, yet he saw the little boy's head snap in his direction. Luke had to remind himself he was obscured from view by the trees, but even so he could see Jonathan Christopher. He had Jocelyn's fine featured face, but Valentine's eyes. No, not Valentine's eyes. Valentine's eyes were not that dark.
Luke caught his breath. Factoring in both Clary's and Jocelyn's tempers, he had a slight idea of what their fight had been like. He looked at Clary. ''Is this…?''
He could see her scrutinizing his expression, trying to judge his reaction. She nodded. ''Yeah.'' She led the way into the room. ''This is my daughter.''
My daughter. Something in Luke hurt at that statement. Clary was his daughter, and she was too young to have a child. She had been through to much to be burdened so young in such a way.
But Clary looked the furthest thing from burdened as she walked back over to Jace. She moved a stray curl out of the little girl's face. Luke saw her expression soften as she met her eyes.
''Her name's Moriah?'' he asked.
Jace answered. ''Moriah Cèline.''
The name was like a punch in the gut. It brought up memories of twelve year old Cèline in the Academy. Her watching everyone silently with large eyes, peering through banisters, darting up staircases, and climbing walls. Images of days of hanging out with her and Michael Wayland flooded through his mind, taking comfort in each other's company, commiserating in the fact they each wanted the same things from different people.
Luke forced a smile. He bent his head to catch Moriah's gaze. ''It's nice to meet you, Moriah.''
Moriah stared at him for a moment before turning away and burying her face in Jace's shoulder. Luke saw Jace's grip on her tighten. ''She's not really-''
Luke nodded. ''I understand.'' He turned to Clary. ''Clary, about your mom…''
''Don't.'' Clary's eyes flashed. ''I don't want to talk about her.''
''I know you two fought.''
Clary gave a cold laugh. ''No, you don't.''
''I just want-''
''Luke, please. Don't do this with me now. This is between me and mom so just drop it.''
''Clary-'' Luke was cut off as the library door opened. He turned around, his heart sinking a little at the sight of Jonathan Christopher.
Jonathan blinked at them all, clearly knowing he walked into the middle of a conversation. He looked to Clary and Jace. ''Max was looking for you,'' he said. ''Something about a video game and a bet?''
Luke figured this was a lie, considering Max knew perfectly well where Clary and Jace were. Clary and Jace however either didn't suspect, or were just glad for the excuse. ''Bye, Luke,'' Clary said, following Jace out. ''Thanks for stopping by.''
''Clary, please.'' But she was gone, walking past her brother and out of sight.
Luke sighed. His gaze rested on Jonathan Christopher, who was smirking at him. ''Yes?''
''Let me guess,'' he said elegantly. ''You're here because of Jocelyn.''
''No,'' Luke answered. ''I am here because of Clary. Because I wanted to meet my granddaughter.''
''Hmm.''
''Why did you interrupt? Max wasn't looking for them.''
Jonathan shrugged. ''He didn't like you were here. I said I'd take care of it.''
''Take care of what? Me? I'm a problem?''
''I was under the impression you came because of Jocelyn. I see now I was mistaken.''
''What if I was?'' Luke challenged. He gestured to where Clary had gone. ''Do you know what happened between them?''
Jonathan gave him a look. It was so hard to tell what the look was supposed to mean. ''It doesn't exactly take a leap of the imagination to guess, does it?''
Luke gave another sigh. ''I have no doubt it had something to do with you,'' he replied. ''Something about Jocelyn not wanting Clary to have to raise a you.''
Luke had no qualms about the venom in his voice. Even with Jonathan back and Clary's allegiance to him, it couldn't erase all the things he had done. All the pain he had caused to so many, especially to Jocelyn. Jonathan didn't seem put off by the venom. To Luke's surprise, he gave a laugh.
''Oh, dear werewolf,'' he said. ''Dear, dear, stupid werewolf- how little you are willing to know the woman you married.''
Anger rose up in Luke. ''What does that mean?''
''If you honestly think Clary and Jocelyn had'just a fight', and that it can easily be smoothed over with words, than you are deeply mistaken,'' Jonathan answered. ''Morgensterns-''
''They are not Morgensterns.''
''-Morgensterns,'' Jonathan continued, ''do one thing very well, and that is stick to our beliefs no matter what anyone says or does. Jocelyn believes one thing, Clary believes another. They are not going to reconcile unless one of them is willing to lie between their teeth for the rest of their life. And I know for a fact that person is not going to be Clary.''
He turned to go. ''And what do you believe?''
Jonathan blinked at him. ''About Moriah?''
''Yes.'' Luke approached him. ''You care for your sister so much, tell me; what do you think about her raising a child that is a demon? That could- in all honesty- turn out like you?''
Jonathan stared at him. His expressions were usually so vague, but now his green eyes were cold in hatred. He leaned towards Luke, lowering his voice to a hateful whisper. ''I think you must think very little of your precious daughter if you think her parenting style resembles anything like that of your dearly departed parabati's.''
Luke kept his expression hard, but something in his face must've betrayed him because Jonathan looked please. He wore a self satisfied smirk as he turned on his heel and went, leaving Luke behind to stew over his words.
As Luke left the Institute, he reluctantly realized Jonathan had a small, valid point. While Jonathan had made choices in his life, it was impossible to ignore the fact that Valentine raised him to be a weapon. Clary wasn't Valentine. She wasn't going to raise Moriah to be- well, a devil.
But Moriah was what she was. And could any of them really deny the possibility that perhaps she couldn't be saved?
Luke shook these thoughts away. She should at least have the chance, he argued to himself. Who are any of us to condemn her prematurely? But one thought kept nagging at him. One counter argument that made him pause.
Can we afford not to?
…
Robert drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair. Across from him at her desk sat Consul Jia Penhallow. She was looking at Geoffrey Whitesnake, who was speaking to them both,
with a mixture of emotions. Robert hoped one of them was anger.
''-So you see,'' Geoffrey continued, ''the only logical course of action is to place it in the Silent City.''
The word it was like a grate on Robert's skin. It was his grandchild. It was the person who had Clarissa and Jace walking around looking like they had their hearts carved out of them. It was a she and there was no way in hell Robert was letting this asshole lock her away.
Jia sighed. ''Geoffrey, you realize you are talking about a child. A Shadowhunter child. The child of the two people who made winning not one but two wars possible.''
''The child of the children of the man responsible for those wars,'' Geoffrey reminded her.
How easy it would be, Robert mused, to come up from behind and strangle him.
Jia gave another sigh, this one almost a groan. ''And your bright idea is to lock her away?''
''The Silent Brothers will take charge of it,'' Geoffrey stated matter of factly. ''It is the safest and most merciful thing we could do.''
Or perhaps break his neck. One, swift turn…
''Robert?''
Robert realized Jia was speaking to him. He looked to her. ''Pardon?''
''What do you think?'' Jia repeated. Before he could reply, Geoffrey threw up his hands.
''What do you think he thinks? He is biased in his outlook!''
Robert resisted the urge to glare at the man as he reiterated the same position he had had back at the New York Institute. ''I was made Inquisitor with full knowledge of my past,'' he reminded them. ''Is my judgment trusted or not?''
''Of course it is.'' Jia stopped Geoffrey from replying with a look. ''Go on.''
''I think sending the child away is not a fair nor appropriate course of action.''
''Why, I am shocked,'' Geoffrey said dryly.
''Geoffrey,'' Jia warned.
''How in the Angel's name can we risk another Jonathan Morgenstern?'' Geoffrey asked them.
''You have no proof to back your claim that the child will be anything like him,'' Robert argued.
''Except the demon blood? Except that it is the child of the children of Valentine Morgenstern?''
''Compare my son to Valentine Morgenstern one more time Geoffrey.''
''My mistake. I had forgotten. He isn't Valentine's son, is he? No, he's the son of that Herondale boy, Stephen who, if my memory serves me, was Valentine's right hand man up until his end.''
''Gentlemen,'' Jia interjected before Robert could kill him. ''Leave Valentine out of this.''
''How can we?'' Geoffrey insisted. ''Don't you see this has his doing all over it? My god, even in death the man is trying to ruin us!''
''You cannot condemn the child for the crimes of Jonathan Morgenstern!'' Robert shouted.
''How can you all be willing to risk another war? How can you be willing to sacrifice more Shadowhunters and their children?'' He looked at Robert. ''Even if you did get your son back, how can you forget? How can you be willing to condemn another generation to that pain?''
Robert ignored the flare of sympathy for Geoffrey's own loss. ''You speak so freely of the pain of loosing a child, and yet you are more than willing to inflict that pain on Clarissa Fray and Jace Herondale.''
''One to spare all? Sounds reasonable to me.''
Jia stood up. ''But it is not your decision, Geoffrey, but the Clave's as a whole. Now I will kindly ask you to leave so I may continue this discussion with the Inquisitor alone.''
Geoffrey scowled in anger. But nevertheless he withdrew, giving Robert a withering glare as he went. Robert balled his fists as he passed. One black eye. A quick flick of the wrist…
As the door closed behind Geoffrey, Jia sat down again. ''Robert-''
''Do you trust me?'' Robert turned on her. ''Do you really think I would put the entire Clave at risk?''
''It is not what I think that matters!'' Jia replied in anger. ''I am more than willing to give the child a chance, but the question is whether or not the Clave and other Shadowhunters like Geoffrey share that sentiment.'' She leaned back in her chair. ''We have to have an Inquest.''
''You want me to prove that the child isn't evil,'' Robert said. ''I can't prove a negative. No one can prove that anyone isn't going to turn out to commit some horrible crime. For all we know, Geoffrey could wake up tomorrow and kill someone. But we're not putting him in the Silent City for some crime he could commit.''
''Because it pays not to,'' Jia countered. ''Will it pay off taking the risk that the child will not be evil?''
''How do you expect me to answer that?''
''I don't. That is why there will be an Inquest. You and your family will come to Idris and we will conduct a trial-''
''You want a baby to testify?''
''I want her parents to testify.''
''Again?'' Clarissa's and Jace's faces flashed through Robert's mind. ''You can't honestly ask-''
''Geoffrey screwed up last time,'' Jia said. ''He should've asked the right questions.''
''While on the subject, why hasn't he been punished for it?''
''Because he asked the questions other Shadowhunters wanted to know. Now we are going to ask the questions we have to know. We are doing this by the book, Robert. Starting with appearances. You and you're family will come to Idris out in the open, fully corporative. I'm sorry, but we are not making the same mistakes we made with the Circle.''
Robert sighed. ''Clarissa and Jace are not the Circle.''
Jia nodded grimly. ''Tell that to the Clave.''
…
Maryse walked down the street, breathing in the cold air. It helped her to take a walk in evening. It pulled her away from the mountain of paper work and got her out of the library. Spending too long in that room almost made her feel as if the walls would close in on her, books and all.
She forced herself to listen to the city noise, clearing her mind from the buzz of information. Robert had sent word via fire message. He would be home in a few days, bringing more details of the upcoming Inquest. She had known it had to happen, but still. She wasn't looking forward to it, nor were Clarissa and Jace. But they took it in classic Shadowhunter stoicism.
An Inquest for the little girl. For Moriah. It had only been three days, so Maryse hadn't really gotten to know her. No one had, actually. Moriah did not have the inquisitive, playful nature that was common for young toddlers. She only let her parents near her, and everyone else she just watched with her large black eyes. She seemed…frightened.
What did those fairies do to her?
Maryse exhaled deeply. This wasn't exactly clearing her head. She turned a corner, deciding to extend her walk another block before going home. She stopped in surprise as she saw someone sitting on a park bench, just across the street.
Jocelyn sat, twisting her hands in her lap in the same way Clarissa did when she was nervous. She cast her glance down the street where the Institute was, but froze as she saw Maryse. Maryse didn't bother trying to interpret her look, but simply crossed the street and sat down next to her. ''Been here long?''
Jocelyn looked away in irritation. ''She's good,'' Maryse continued. ''Clarissa. She's happier. Jace too. Both of them are well.'' She hesitated before adding, ''Moriah's well too.''
Jocelyn sighed. ''I didn't want to fight with her,'' she said.
''You are not stupid,'' Maryse said. ''You had to have known she wasn't going to just let you say those things.''
''But they're true!"' She turned to her expectantly, waiting for her to agree.
Maryse stared at her. She tried to see the woman she used to know, the one who laughed and joked, the one who managed to be caring and sarcastic and irritated all at once. She tried to see the Clarissa in her. She shook her head. ''No, Jocelyn. They aren't.''
Jocelyn scoffed in disbelief. ''I can't rewrite history,'' Maryse continued. ''I can't say Jonathan was what he was by default. I knew him. He was a child. A regular child.''
''He was not regular. You weren't there. In my house…''
Maryse nodded. ''No, I wasn't. But Cèline was.''
Rage flashed across Jocelyn's face. ''Don't you bring up Cèline to me.''
''That two month period when Jonathan was with her and Stephen,'' Maryse reminded her. ''They never said why he was with them. I knew you and Valentine were fighting, but never about what. Was it about him? Was that why Jonathan was so…withdrawn?''
Jocelyn waved aside the comment. ''You don't get to judge me. I don't want Clary to be hurt. I don't want her to go through what I did.''
''And you think I do? You think Robert wants her to?'' Maryse let out a laugh. ''God, Jocelyn, you act like you were the only one hurt by Valentine. You were not the only one manipulated or made choices you regret. You were, however the only one who got away. We didn't.'' Because of you, Maryse added silently to herself. Never would she forget that day in the Accords Hall, fighting all those Downworlders and looking up at the balcony and seeing Jocelyn's face. Never would she forget the feeling of realization that it was not only Valentine who led them in unprepared, but his wife who had turned against them.
Maryse swallowed the bitterness in her throat. She leaned back against the bench. ''There's going to be an Inquest,'' she informed her. ''In Idris. I don't know when yet, but I have no doubt you will be called on to testify.''
''Nice to know,'' Jocelyn replied dryly.
Silence settled over them, the kind that anger festered in. Marsye knew if she stayed much longer she would say something she might regret. Or at least, would be best not to say. She stood. She looked down at her, wanting to say something, but nothing came to mind. She again desperately searched for the Jocelyn she used to know. But she wasn't there. That Jocelyn was gone.
Maryse marched away back home. Back to her children and Clarissa. Back to Moriah.
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