For anyone who is actually reading this, sorry it took so long. College really sucks. I'm sorry this is going so slowly, but I'll do what I can on top of my workload. I'd love to know what you guys think!


Jace knocked on the door of Imogen's room.

"Come in," called Isabelle's voice.

Jace opened the door and stepped into the room. Imogen sat on the edge of the bed while Isabelle sat behind her, braiding Imogen's hair. Imogen's eyes lit up when she saw Jace. She was wearing a pair of Isabelle's skinny jeans, which fit her long, slim legs perfectly, but was loose around her waist. One of Isabelle's tank tops with a plunging neckline hung loosely on Imogen's small chest, making her look silly.

"Why does every other girl look so ridiculous in your clothes, Izzy," Jace wondered aloud.

Imogen's face fell.

Jace winked at her. "Don't worry; it's not your fault. It's just that Izzy's got a big rack."

"Jace!"

Jace laughed. Imogen smiled as he laughed. Isabelle, having finished with Imogen's hair, stood up and left the room, punching Jace in the arm on her way out.

"Feel any better?" Jace asked, rubbing his arm.

Imogen nodded.

"Look, Maryse told me about what happened to you, or at least what she thinks happened to you. We can free you if you tell us who your master is."

Imogen's face went pale. Her hands clenched and her body quivered with fear. She shook her head furiously.

Jace sat down beside her and touched her hand. "It's okay. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

Imogen eased up a bit.

"So tell me," Jace began. "Where are you from?"

Imogen grabbed Jace's hand and traced a letter into his palm – the letter I. Jace didn't need her to continue.

"Idris."

Imogen nodded.

"Do you miss it?"

Imogen smiled sadly and nodded.

"What's your last name?"

Imogen traced letters into his hand again.

"A-D-A-I-R-E…Adaire. Imogen Adaire. Pretty name."

Imogen smiled. Then she poked her finger into Jace's shoulder.

"Me? Wayland. Jace Wayland. Where are your parents?"

Imogen's smile disappeared. She looked way from Jace and shook her head.

"Are they dead?" Jace asked softly.

Imogen nodded slowly.

"I'm sorry…" Then Jace thought, I sound like Clary.

Imogen gave him a weak smile. Then she yawned.

"You look tired. You should sleep." Jace stood up so Imogen could lie down. He turned and headed for the door, but then he felt Imogen throw herself around his arm again. "It's okay. I'll just be down the hall."

Imogen looked up at him pleadingly and shook her head. Jace's heart went out to the girl. She was so helpless and frightened.

"Fine," Jace sighed. "I'll sleep on the floor."

Imogen gave him a grateful smile and climbed back into bed. Jace turned out the light and lay down on the floor. Imogen handed him one of the pillows. Jace thanked her and placed the pillow behind his head. Then Imogen reached down, feeling around in the darkness for Jace. At first, she caught his face, then Jace grasped her hand. Jace sighed. He'd never seen a girl so helpless, more or less a Shadowhunter. He wondered what had happened to her to make her this way. Suddenly, he felt anger rise up from deep within his core. He wanted to kill whoever did this to Imogen.

Jace held the girl's hand until he heard her breathing deeply. He was about to release her hand, but then decided not to. There was something strangely comfortable about the girl. Because of his angelic looks, Jace always had girls going crazy over him. But Isabelle and his sister, Clary, were always independent of him, and he liked that about them. And then there was this girl, Imogen Adaire. He'd just met her, but she was already attached to him. It was like she was dependent on him, but in a way that other girls weren't. Other girls clung to Jace because they wanted to sleep with him. Imogen clung to him because she trusted him and needed him to make her feel safe. Jace fell asleep with a smile on his face and Imogen's small hand clasped in his. It was nice to be needed…and trusted.

A month had passed since Imogen was brought to the Institute. Imogen was improving greatly in Jace's presence, though she still curled up in fear if she was asked about her master. She had grown to trust Isabelle and Jace's sister, Clary. She'd taken to Clary's charisma almost immediately. On the other hand, Imogen was still wary of Alec. She wasn't sure if he liked her or not, but something about him unnerved her. And Maryse…Imogen didn't mind Maryse, but the woman was intimidating. One of Imogen's favorite people at the Institute was Max, Alec and Isabelle's younger brother. The bright, cheery, and enthusiastic nine-year-old always kept Imogen's spirits up.

Imogen's absolute favorite was, of course, Jace. She trusted him most and loved him more than she loved the others. Once she got used to Jace's witty sarcasm, she grew to like it. She felt safe and comfortable with Jace. Above all, she was happy with him.

In the same way, Imogen quickly became Jace's favorite. He'd grown to trust her like he trusted no one else. He spent hours upon hours talking to her. Though she didn't talk back, her expressions would suffice for responses. When expressions didn't convey her thoughts, she'd trace her finger on Jace's palm. Jace found her touch comforting and loved her company. Maybe it was because she was the only one who didn't tell him that he was reckless, stupid, and arrogant. Imogen would shoot him disapproving looks every now and then if she didn't like what he said, but she always had some degree of concern in her eyes when she did so. She didn't scowl at him like the others.

In the past month, Imogen had managed to start training again and had been given a stele. As the other Shadowhunters came to realize, Imogen was a master with both Runes and blades. It had only taken a week and a half for Imogen to regrasp her skills with seraph blades. Maryse had said that the strange girl was a very experienced warrior, judging by her Marks. Maryse was right.

"It's like she's dancing," Maryse had commented one day to Jace while watching Imogen practice with seraph blades. "I've never seen anyone fight like this. I've never seen anyone make combat seem like an art."

Jace had nodded his agreement.

"What did you say her last name is, Jace?"

"Adaire."

"Of course…" Maryse mused.

"Of course, what?"

"Have you heard of the Adaire clan?"

"Of course. Who hasn't? Aren't they a warrior clan? Supposedly the best?"

Maryse nodded. "The Adaire clan has always been known as the most talented and fierce of all warriors. The Adaire ancestors a thousand years ago were also dancers. Their blood runs strongly in Imogen."

Watching Imogen's swift, fluid movements, it was clear the girl was born to fight. She was an expert. The way she moved was instinct. It ran in her blood, it was engraved in her mind. But as she jumped and flipped, twisted and turned, spun and glided, her intense violet eyes shone brightly. Her face was calm and serene. She should be a dancer, Jace had thought, not a warrior. Or a slave.

"She's the last of the Adaire clan," Maryse said grimly.