A Lovers Quarrel

"Jace, stay with me," Clary whispered as Jonathan led them up from the cellar and back into the castle. The moment the warmth touched Clary skin, a shudder raced up her spine and she stumbled. Jace caught her deftly, though he was looking pale and drawn himself. "Please, wherever he takes us, just stay with me."

"I'll stick like a bur," he said, and, as if to remind her that they were tied together he let a few emotions drift across their connection. I'll never leave you, I'll never leave you, I'll never let you go.

Clary felt a spike of warmth shoot through her body, and then a humming in her body, like a hive of bees were alive inside her. She couldn't hear words, though she knew Jace was thinking them, but she felt the emotions, she felt the love. "Whatever he has planned, as long as we're together, it'll be alright."

Jonathan, who had been listening in on the heartfelt conversation, smirked a little. "Yes, my diabolical plan of forcing the two of you to have baths is all coming together. I really am a sadistic bastard, aren't I?"

Clary shot Jonathan a hard look, but just the sound of his smug voice seemed to draw what little breath she had. Jace cleared his throat. "Knowing you, yes."

"If you're afraid of baths, you really won't hold up in my court, slave," he said in an offhand manner, hoping to infuriate Jace.

Jace, though, was far more concerned with Clary than losing his temper with Jonathan. "I won't let you out of my sight."

Clary smiled faintly at Jace but also made a point of watching where Jonathan was taking them. She wanted to make sure she knew where they were going in case the chance for escape came. Jonathan, it seemed, was leading them back up to the wing that housed the royal family. When they mounted the last set of stairs, she swallowed loudly; he was taking them to the king's chambers. Her heart beat faster and she felt that urge to faint.

He wouldn't, he wouldn't, he wouldn't, she told herself firmly. He doesn't want me anymore because I've been with Jace.

Still, Jonathan took them to the large, double doors that opened into the antechamber of the king's private rooms. Clary drew to a shuddering halt when he threw open the doors and ushered them in. Jace walked into Clary, stumbled a bit from his on setting fever, and then grasped her shoulders in his hands.

"It'll be alright, Clary, I won't leave your side." Again, Jace tried to send his emotions across the connection that bound them; this time, though, he only sensed her raw fear.

Jonathan smiled like a wolf. "Yes, Clary, don't worry; everything will be alright."

Clary was shaking, Jace could feel her. She had reverted back to that dark place Jonathan and Valentine put her; she was trapped all over again. He pulled her into his embrace and kissed her hair gently. "I'll hold you, I'll keep you safe; just take slow, easy steps, and it'll all be alright."

Clary nodded, but she was still reeling. Finally, after a few deep breaths, Clary took the first tentative steps into the antechamber; behind her, with his arms wrapped firmly about her waist, was Jace, and he was whispering a string of encouragements into her ear. Jonathan watched them, and he felt a tinge of annoyance that his sister was so terrified of him, and even more annoyance that Jace got to hold that way. With a flick of his wrist, he grabbed Clary's arm and jerked her into the room, slamming the door shut when Jace tumbled after her.

Clary screamed. "Let me go, let me go! Jace! Let me go!"

"Oh, for the love of-" Jonathan snapped, and he flung Clary aside so she tripped onto the couch before his fire. He pointed at Jace. "You, keep her under control, will you? I have business to attend to until this evening; I'll send a few maids in to fix you two up."

Jace stared back. "I'll not take orders from you."

"You will, Jace, because as of the moment you entered me kingdom, you are no longer a duke. I have removed your title and lands; you are a slave once more. And you know my attitude toward slaves."

Jace's lip curled. "I'm not a slave, since I'm married to your sister."

"You can stay married to her, personally, I don't care." Jonathan drew a step forward. "I have plans for my darling Clarissa, and they don't involve you. If she wants to keep a lover on the side, I'll allow her her dalliances."

Dalliances? "You're disgusting."

"Words mean little here," Jonathan said sweetly. "Go wash yourself, you smell." With those parting words, Jonathan winked at Clary, turned on his heel, and left the room with a yell for a maid.

As soon as he was gone, Jace rushed to Clary who was crumpled on the couch. She was staring at her hands, muttering under her breath, and she seemed very far away. Jace crouched before her, taking her hands gently and squeezing them. She didn't meet his gaze, just continued to stare in confusion at her palms. Jace reached up with one hand and brushed her very tangled hair off her face.

"Clary, Clary, look at me," he ordered softly. She swallowed and her eyes fluttered nervously. "Look at me now." The order registered on some deeper part of Clary and she glanced up. He took her cheeks and held them so she couldn't turn away. "I know you're scared, I know you're terrified, but you need to trust me. I will take care of you, just do as I say."

Clary's mind was swirling in a torrent of horror. While she had been in the cellar, the fear of her brother had been at bay, mostly because the demons had been consuming her thoughts; she simply hadn't had the ability to think about Jonathan. Now, away from the oppressive silence, Jonathan could easily consume her thoughts. She felt like she were lost, and, desperately, she reached out for Jace through their connection. She could feel him like an anchor in her mind.

Jace reeled when he felt Clary touching his thoughts. The moment he felt contact, a gulf opened up and all he felt was confusing, listless horrors. It was as if he were wading through a river and the current was pulling him every way. It was like he couldn't focus on anything, only feel fear.

Hold on to him, hold on to him and don't let go, Clary ordered herself, and she clung to his presence.

"Now, Clary, get up and come with me to the bathroom," Jace said, flinching a bit from the pressure Clary was putting on his conscious. Clary stumbled up to her feet and took a firm grip on Jace; he led her to the bathroom, and then set her on a small stool while he went about finding towels and soap. The door creaked open and Clary glanced up, expecting the worst; what she saw was like a punch to the stomach.

"Jace," she gasped, and Jace turned to the door.

"Aline?" he asked, staring open-mouthed at the figure.

It was Aline, though the girl was almost unrecognizable now. It would have been more to the mark to say the thing before them was a used, worn doll that wore Aline's face. The girl was pitifully thin, so thin that the bones in her arms, legs, and wrist were visible and her belly was bloated like a balloon. Her skin, where it wasn't bruised purple and red or burned black, was sallow and stretched thin. Her fingers and toes-for she wore no shoes-were bent oddly, like they'd broken and re-healed. When she lifted her face in response to Jace, they saw that Aline's lips were cracked and bleeding, a few of her teeth were chipped, and her lank hair was overgrown in some places, torn out in others. But it was her eyes that were the worst; sunken into her face, they were empty and dark, like a void of all life. It looked as if someone had reached in and scooped out her insides.

Clary's fear for herself vanished in an instant and she stood shakily and lurched over to Aline. "Aline…by the Angel, what happened to you?"

Aline was silent a long while, but suddenly, she twisted her head sharply, and lifted her eyes slowly up to Clary's face. Her voice was nothing but a twisted gasping sound. "Master sent me for the princess."

"No, Aline, what happened?" Clary pressed, and she gently swept the girl's hair off her face. "Who did this to you?"

"I serve the Master, I serve him well…" she muttered like a prayer and then slapped Clary's hand away. "I serve him!" she shrieked, maddened, tearing at her hair.

"Aline!" Clary cried, but Jace moved forward. He drew the girl aside, into the weak light that penetrated the castle windows. She was muttering a string of prayers under her breath, broken now and then by master.

"Aline, Aline, do you remember me?" Jace asked kindly. "Do you remember when we served together?"

Aline's wide eyes were far away and it was a few minutes before she glanced up at Jace. She bit her lip. "Once upon a time, when the sun was bright…I remember a boy with gold hair and gold eyes."

"Yes, that was me," Jace encouraged, rubbing her shoulders. "I've come back, to help with the princess."

"I serve the princess now," Aline nodded furiously. "The Master said I do, he said I serve the princess."

"Yes, and I brought her here for you," Jace said kindly. "See, she's here, waiting for her bath. Princess?" Jace called, and Clary drew few steps closer. She caught Jace's eye and met Aline's gaze with her own warm look. "Princess, Aline is your new handmaid." Some on, Clary, play along.

"Yes, of course," Clary said graciously, offering Aline a pretty smile. "Yes, Jonathan said this…he said he'd sent his most well-trained, most worthy, of his maids to serve me. I'm so pleased to see you, Aline."

Aline shuddered against Jace and then bent her back in what must have been an attempt at a bow. "I'm here for the princess."

"What would you like me to do, Aline?" Clary asked. "I trust your judgment, of course, in all matters concerning the court."

"A-a bath," Aline croaked. "I'm to give you a bath and make you ready for dinner. That's what Master says."

"A bath is lovely," Clary said and turned to go, but Aline scrambled over to her and began pulled at the sleeve of her shirt.

"No, no, no, you sit." Aline pointed to the stool where Clary had been. "I'll run the bath, get you ready."

When Clary opened her mouth to say it was unnecessary, Jace coughed loudly, drawing her attention; he shook his head minutely and Clary resigned herself to wait. Aline led Clary to the stool and then pushed Jace to join her. The two had to sit and watch while Aline puttered about, preparing the bath, adding salts and soaps, warming towels by the fire, and, finally, standing Clary up to get her undressed. Jace looked away but Clary didn't really care, it wasn't like he hadn't seen her naked before.

After, Aline helped Clary into the bath and began a vigorous wash. Clary sat silently by while Aline wet a rough sponge and scrubbed her skin raw, covered her hands in sweet smelling shampoo and then massaged into her hair, and finally, used her own, poorly broken fingers, to clean Clary's face. All the while, Jace watched Aline, wondering what nightmares Jonathan had unleashed on the poor girl to bring her so low; Jace could still remember the provocative, pretty girl he had first met.

When she was satisfied Clary was clean, Aline stood her up and draped her in a thick, warm towel. She led Clary to the stool where she set about rubbing her legs, feet, arms and shoulders with a flowery lotion. She meticulously clipped Clary's nails, brushed her teeth, and finally, took a pair of scissors and cut her messy hair into order.

She's obsessed, Clary observed, while Aline ran a comb through her clean locks. She's obsessed with every detail of her charge. What madness has gotten into you?

Finally, Aline wrapped Clary in a warm, silk robe and bid her sit let her feet soak in a small tub with warm, rose water. She turned to face Jace. "You, too," she ordered blankly.

Jace was not so well trained as Clary, and while Aline washed him, he tried to help. It upset the girl too much, though, and she was on the verge of a scream when Jace threw up his hands in surrender and allowed her to continue with her duties. When Jace, too, was cleaned and dried and wrapped in a robe, she bundled out of the room, whispering orders under her breath.

"What did Jonathan do to her?" Clary asked softly. "She's gone insane."

"I think she's scared out of her wits," Jace answered. "I don't think she's got any demons in her, but that only makes me wonder why she's still alive. The demons should have killed her by now."

"The Angel only knows why they kept her alive," Clary murmured.

"Sport," Jace replied, and his face was grim. It was entirely possible many slaves were spared just so the demons would have something to play with while they stewed in their human bodies. This, of course, unsettled Jace, as Jonathan had told him quite clearly he, too, was a slave. "They keep alive just to toy with her. It certainly worked."

Clary shuddered. "Do you think there is any way to fix her? Do you think if I feed her and heal her and-'

"I think the only thing that will help her now is days and days of sunlight," Jace said sadly. "She needs to leave this place, to find peace somewhere far away."

"Jonathan did this on purpose to punish me," Clary said angrily. "He's just trying to ruin everything and make me hate him."

"Guess that part worked," Jace shrugged and then took her hand. "This isn't forever, Clary, this darkness. It will pass. Alec and Isabelle took the Cup back to Alicante and the shadowhunters. Jonathan's days are numbered now."

Clary looked at Jace's hand in hers. "But how long can you and I wait? How long do we have before…before we're just like Aline?"

Jace bit his lip. "We have each other, each other's strength, each other's courage, and each other's love. It's more than anyone else here has, and it's what is going to get us through this." Jace kissed her firmly, as if to remind Clary he still loved her.

"Princess," Aline said, wandering back into the room. "I have your rooms ready and a dress laid out for your dinner. Please, follow me."

Clary stood. "My rooms? My bedroom?" Clary wondered aloud, thinking of the lavish rooms that had been Clary's home for years. They seemed like a distant memory now, a dream-or a nightmare.

"No, princess, the Queen's rooms, off the King's chamber," Aline murmured, and led Clary and Jace through the antechamber and to a small door near the study.

Clary knew the layout of her father's chamber rather well, since, as a child, she had been known to creep down the hall, past her nursemaids, and into the rooms, looking for her mother. Regularly, Jocelyn and Valentine would have shared a bed in the king's privy chamber, however, when diplomats were visiting, when Jocelyn was ill, when Valentine was away for war or political reasons, or, when Jocelyn was pregnant, she would retire to her own rooms. The queen's privy chamber attached to the antechamber by a single door that was connected to a very short hallway. At the end of this hallway was a set of double doors, and behind these, was the queen's privy chamber.

"I can't live here," Clary said at once, when Aline threw open the doors to the chamber. "I'm not the queen, I don't belong here."

It had been many years since Clary had set foot in these rooms, but time seemed to have had little effect. She suspected that her father might have kept the rooms tidy in that raw hope that Jocelyn would return, and so, they were styled after her mother's likes. The floors were stone, but they had been covered in thick, lush carpets. There was hearth with intricate patterns of blooming flowers and humming birds. Windows gave a stunning view of the back garden, though it was currently in disuse. And there was the bed, raised on a platform, and piled with fur blankets. About the room were strewn small testaments to Jocelyn's life: many books on art, medicine, and history, paintings and empty art books, lovely, handmade quilts, and not a small number of crushed flowers in water. It was truly beautiful, but altogether, too much for Clary.

"The queen lived here," Clary said blankly to Aline. "The king's wife. I was only ever the princess."

"The Master orders that you live here now, with your servant," Aline said simply.

"My servant?" Clary asked, and then her eyes widened when she realized she meant Jace. "No, no, Aline, I can't live here. I'm not the queen, I can't be the queen." It was hard for Clary to explain just how power came with the title of queen. She had grown up watching her mother order people about with her imperious looks and words, and she had learned that the most powerful woman in the land always held the name queen. Clary wasn't ready to be that powerful, she wasn't even ready for the name. "I'm not ready."

"The Master says you are, princess," Aline replied, and she gestured to the dressing screen. "Go and sit behind the screen while I find your clothing. You must look your best, it's what the Master said."

Clary paled and her hand reached out for Jace. "Come with me."

"Clary, I'll be right here, by the bed, changing into my own things." Jace smiled warmly at her. "I won't leave you, have no fear, little one."

"Jonathan can't mean this," Clary muttered in a lost kind of way, and then went to wait behind the dressing screen.

Aline came quickly, first to Jace with some fresh clothing, and he was annoyed to see that while it was made well, it didn't bear the status of a Duke. It was simple shirt and pants and coat, and Jace knew Jonathan was slighting him. Clary, however, was dressed in an intricate gown of burgundy and gold, with a daringly low top and a fitted bodice. While Aline fixed her hair into a simple knot, Jace flicked his eyes over her reflection.

"Jonathan's certainly giving himself a show," Jace growled finally. "I suppose if I'd seen you this way that day you came to the market, even I might have gone a bit slack-jawed." Clary smiled uncertainly and Jace frowned. "He's disgusting."

"I can bear his orders so long as they keep me with you," Clary said swiftly, and she cast a glance at herself in the mirror. She looked very different from the girl she had grown to know. For the last half-year, she had been allowed pants and shirts, her hair long and messy, and her face flushed a healthy, warm red. This Clary, the one in the mirror, was pale and fragile, dressed in heavy, uncomfortable skirts, and groomed from toes to tail. She didn't like this Clary. "Alright, escort me to this damnable dinner," she growled, and Jace came and helped her to her feet.

It was an unsteady walk, as both Jace and Clary were sick with the beginnings of a fever and their sight was spinning. When they returned to the antechamber, Jonathan was waiting for them, smiling wolfishly. He watched them approach and, only when they stood directly before him, did he rise and gesture to the seats at his table.

"Look at you two, healthy as a plum," Jonathan sniggered, looking at Clary's very pale face. "Clarissa, would you like a seat? Jace, perhaps a crate? I don't know the etiquette for slaves."

Jace smirked. "I'll just take the seat."

Clary jerked her own chair out, shooting Jonathan a dark look. "Just serve the dinner, why don't you?"

"Hungry, sister?" Jonathan asked, admiring the glimmer in her eyes. She was obviously starving, but keeping the longing from her voice. "We're having roast duck with potatoes and boiled vegetables in garlic butter. I trust you remember the taste of such things after all those months among animals?"

"They're not animals," Clary snapped, but she could almost taste the duck.

"Dogs, then," Jonathan smirked, and then sat down, drawing Jace and Clary down with him. Jonathan took his time, pouring them each a glass of dark, red wine and then flattening his napkin on his lap. He brushed his hands off and then sipped the wine, coughed, and sipped again. Clary was growing impatient, but Jace was watching the other boy, wondering what was going through his head.

"Would you care to speak, brother, or have you had us washed, scrubbed, and clothed for a wine testing?" Clary finally said, exasperated.

Jonathan laughed genially. "No, no, I was just making sure the wine was up to standard. So, tell me, how have you found your new accommodations, sister? Are you comfortable? Are they up to your old standards?"

Clary rolled her eyes. "I don't want to live in Mother's room. She wouldn't like it if she knew."

"Good thing she's dead then, isn't it?" Jonathan observed, eyeing Clary over his glass of wine.

Clary opened her mouth to smartly reply that their mother was, in fact, very much alive, but a quick thought cut her off. The less Jonathan knows about the shadowhunters and Alicante, the better. He doesn't know about the Cup yet, and he doesn't know about Isabelle and Alec escaping with a glimpse of his servants, and he won't know about Mother. We have the upper hand and it's staying that way.

Quickly, Clary shot a look at Jace and he picked up on her emotional climate through the connection. "I'm not comfortable being in her rooms," said Clary finally. "I wouldn't mind my old rooms."

"Ah, well, I've given them away, so that would be quite impossible," Jonathan said with a small, sad smile.

"You can't give away the princess's rooms unless there's another princess," Jace said, eyes narrowing. "So, unless you've got a big surprise for us, I suggest you give them back."

"There is no princess," Jonathan sighed, rolling his eyes. "There's never going to be another princess again since I have no intention of giving up my throne. And, since that was the case, I saw fit to give the rooms to someone who needed them."

"Who?" Clary asked, disliking the thought of someone in her rooms.

"I believe they belong to the daughter of the honorable Duke Lewis." Jonathan grinned widely at the look on his sister's face. "She was overjoyed to have them, I assure you, Clary."

"What have you done to Simon's family?" Clary snarled, her fingers contracting around the knife in her hand.

"I gave them a dukedom," Jonathan answered simply.

"What else?"

"Ah, that," Jonathan said delicately, sipping his wine again. "Well, you can't be a member of my court without certain personality traits. It took a little convincing, a little encouragement, but I won them over." Jonathan pursed his lips. "The son, though, young Simon, he's gone. His mother tells me he ran off."

Clary tried to keep her face impassive. The less he knows, the better. "I hope he did."

Jonathan's eyes narrowed and he studied his sister's face. "I had wondered if perhaps you might have encountered dear Simon during your absence. He was so taken with you as a boy, after all, that perhaps he went to find you."

"If he was so taken with her," Jace said, speaking before Clary was forced to try and lie, "then I would have made of point of seeing him. As it is, I have yet to meet this Simon."

"You would have liked him," Jonathan snickered. "Not really your type, but certainly the kind of person I think you would enjoy tormenting, Jace. I certainly did," he added for Clary's benefit.

"You really are a monster," Clary said simply, and then sipped the wine. It was tart enough to clear her muddled thoughts. "Care to tell me what you did to Aline?"

Jonathan laughed. "You noticed that? I thought you would have approved of it; I seem to recall you being very cruel to her when she served out father. You don't think she's so much more bearable now?"

"I think you've all but murdered her," Clary whispered.

"Letting the demons have some fun?" Jace spat, slamming a hand down. "Can't kill all the humans or your followers get a bit bored, is that it?"

Jonathan's dark eyes leveled Jace with a contemplative look. "I need to keep my people happy. They enjoy a bit of…sport, every now and then. Are you offering, Jace?"

Jace bared his teeth in a snarl. "I'm not interested in your games. I had a taste of them last time I was here, and it's just not my cup of tea."

"But you don't even know what I've done," Jonathan said winningly. "Aren't you the least bit curious to know what became of the poor slave girl? How I gave her over to one of my lords…the fun they had-"

"Shut up!" Clary said in disgust.

"-he fed off her for a while, fed off her flesh, her blood, and, finally, her fear. It took a good bit of time for the last one. She was strong, he told me; she fought him till the very end, at least until he took her in hand-"

"Quit it!" Clary cut in, her eyes looking desperately to Jace.

"-must have been the longest night of her life, probably the best she's ever had, filthy, little human. Oh, yes, he made quite a good pet out her. I think I might have to ask just how he did it, too. I've got my own unruly lot." Jonathan's eyes darted with Jace playfully, but Clary had had enough.

She took the glass full of red wine and smashed it on the edge of the table. A waterfall of red poured onto the hard floor, pooling there and looking disturbingly like blood. "I said I stop it."

"Do you know how old that wine was?" Jonathan asked in surprise. "It was laid down by our great-grandfather."

"It just shows you care more about wine than people," Clary ground out.

"It just shows I care about the fine things in life," Jonathan countered and then cleared his throat. "But, honestly, Clary, the reason I've invited you and your…pet, is because I would like to discuss a few arrangements with you concerning your presence here."

This is it, this is when he'll take Jace away from me. Clary's heart fluttered

"I originally had no intention of letting this union between my sister and some slave continue, but, now that Clary has so quaintly tied herself to you, I find myself in a troublesome situation. So, I have had to reevaluate my plans for you two." His eyes landed on Jace since it was his fault Clary wasn't already in his arms. "I had, of course, meant to kill you, Jace, and then made Clary my queen, but now this seems impossible. Now, what do you propose I do?"

"Leave Jace and I alone?" Clary offered tartly.

"No," Jonathan answered at once. "No, I have better plans for you two. Since I simply cannot kill him, and I cannot torture poor Jace without causing you undo harm, I have had to go about this a different way. I will not be killing little Jace."

Not killing Jace? Clary's heart leapt.

"No, my dear, I would never kill the thing you love," he said gently, and then his eyes darted to Jace. "Even if it is this thing. However, I will not lose you to some boy; you're mine, Clary."

"I won't leave Jace." Clary lifted her chin.

Jonathan's eyes glimmered. "You will, Clary, because you will want to leave him. I'm going to make you love me."

"Never," Clary whispered, and she saw Jace's shock register.

"Oh, yes, you will. I'm going to make you want me, I'm going to make you leave Jace for me." Jonathan flicked his eyes over Jace. "You can keep him, Clary, keep your plaything, I don't care. Go ahead, have a lover. But, he's not your husband anymore, which raises the question I've been wondering…What happened to your child?"

What he doesn't know… "I lost the child. The journey killed it."

"Good," Jonathan sniffed. "Now, my dear, you and your little lover may finish the meal I've prepared and then retire to your rooms. Tomorrow, when you rise, I'll see you."

Clary and Jace were staring in horror at Jonathan, at his pleasantly smiling face, and Clary stuttered. "I-I won't let you do this."

Jonathan chuckled, rising up. "You will love me, Clary. I will make you love me."