Land of the Dead

"Wake up, princess, wake up."

Oh, go away; leave me in my bed…Clary rolled away from the voice and reached out for the thing nearest her. Though the rune binding them would have told her as much, she didn't need it to know that Jace was lying beside her, his arm draped about her waist as usual. She pressed herself a bit closer and he tightened his grip. Just leave me here a bit longer.

"Princess, the King will be so furious if you don't take your breakfast with him," Aline whined, and Clary could sense her trepidation just through her voice. It wasn't fair to the poor girl to worry on her account.

"I'm up," Clary yawned, stretching all the way to her toes. "Jace, Jace wake up."

"Just because you have to be up early doesn't mean I have to," he said into his pillow, but he was already wiping the sleep from his eyes. "However, I suppose I'll have to inspect you before you go off to meet the court. I can't have my wife walking around looking foolish."

It was meant to be a joke, but the prospect of meeting Jonathan and his court of demons set Clary on edge. She sat up and began to finger her long braid of hair Aline had spent so long on the night before. The ends began to fray and Aline tried to swat at her hand. "I'd be happier if you were with me."

Jace cupped Clary's chin in his. "I won't be far, Clary, just a moment away, besides," his hand dropped to the rune on her arm, "I'm never really gone, am I? Now, this is our first chance to really get a good look at the demons Jonathan has summoned. Try to remember everything; any bit of information could be of use to us at this point. And, Jonathan-"

"You mean the demon using him?" Clary stressed. She had decided the night before that she would refuse to believe that Jonathan was completely consumed by his demon, and she kept reminding herself, and anyone else, that he was still in there.

"Yes," Jace said, "that. It can't hurt to have him sympathetic to us, can it? He's bound to let slip something about where his power is coming from. If we figure it out, we might be able to break the grip the demon has on Jonathan."

Clary squared her shoulders. "It won't be easy, Jace, he's too solitary, too introverted; Jonathan doesn't need anyone to be happy. I don't know if I'll be able to draw anything out of him."

"You have to try," was all Jace said. "Clary, you're right. Your brother isn't that man, but he can't be free as long as a demon uses him. Try to reach out, past all the hate and bitterness he's thrown up, and get to him."

"I might need you," Clary whispered softly, and then swung her legs around the bed and stood.

Jace smiled at the image of Clary in her soft, white, semi-transparent nightgown; though he preferred her in her fighting gear, looking like a little lioness, sometimes he missed the softer Clary. "Good to know, because I'm not letting you go."

Clary winked at Jace over her shoulder. "Alright, Aline, can you make me presentable?"

Aline rushed Clary away to a dressing screen erected in the corner of the room while Jace lounged about. Clary rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, having forgotten what it was like to be so cared for and watched. When Aline returned with a expansive dress of grey with elaborate black silk designed into the bodice, hem and cuffs, Clary balked. The sheer weight of it had to be her body and then some.

"It's been awhile since I've worn anything so fine…" Clary hedged.

"It's cold out," Aline said simply, already tugging at Clary's nightgown. "You need something warm and flattering. Quickly, sit, while pin your hair."

Aline's style of service was much different from Isabelle's, even down to her sense of fashion. She was very exacting in all details, and favored practical things over flamboyant; Clary, at least, could appreciate that. However, when Aline had spent fifteen minutes pinning her hair into a very elaborate, very stylish bun, Clary felt herself losing patience.

"Perhaps the dress, Aline?" Clary asked as the girl fiddled with a few loose curls. "I really must be on time to my meal."

Aline dropped the pins she was still holding, recalling her orders. "Oh, yes, yes, my apologies, princess. Here, hurry now, into the dress."

Clary allowed Aline to pull the gown up and begin lacing it. I hate corsets, she thought as Aline pulled the strings so tight Clary gasped. I could be bounded in this castle and count myself a queen of infinite space were it not that I have to wear this corset. Clary giggled a bit to herself at the horrid parody. "Are we quite finished?"

"Just now, princess," Aline murmured, and finished the final bow.

When Clary reappeared, she smirked at Jace's very wide eyes. "Been a while, hasn't it?"

Jace swallowed. It was like he was meeting her for the first time again, dressed in the finest fabrics, dripping in grandeur and excess; she had certainly become a princess again. However, when she smiled uncertainly, he saw the girl he loved. "Truthfully, I like the pants better."

Clary laughed softly and turned once. "Do I look lovely, husband? Will I astound even those revolting demons?"

"One can only hope." Jace rose and prowled forward, his eyes lazily stroking her as he approached. He pulled her roughly against him and kissed her fervently. "I really hate that you must go."

"I'll come back," Clary whispered.

"I'll be waiting," Jace said against her neck. "These lords and ladies aren't the only ones to get the pleasure of your company. I've my own pleasures to take, I assure you of that, lady wife."

"Then I look forward to it." Clary's voice sounded throaty to even her own ears, and she allowed the kiss to deepen; they would have stayed that way had not Aline interjected with an impertinent noise. "So be it. I'll be back as soon as Jonathan releases me."

"I'll be with you," said Jace listlessly. "I suppose until then I can just look about, maybe sleep a bit more."

"I'll have food sent up for both of you," Clary said contemplatively, eyeing Aline. "See if maybe you can get her to speak. There is much she might know."

"The company might do her a bit of good, too," Jace agreed. "Until the evening." Clary kissed his cheek once more than then turned and left.

It was the first time Clary had gone anywhere in the castle completely unescorted, and it was a bit thrilling. When she approached the doors that would allow her into the hall, she paused, waiting for someone to come and direct her, after a beat, she realized that Jonathan would probably have gone down and since he didn't need servants, why would she be given any? She tensed, gripping the door hard at the thought of the two demons standing guard on the other side, and she noticed belatedly that she didn't have any weapons.

You're a better warrior than that, Clary; stop being a child. And besides, Jace is only a room away. Clary lifted her chin and took a much deeper breath than necessary. Jonathan isn't going to let them harm you, bear that in mind.

It was a depressing thought, but one all the same. She threw open the doors and waited for the cackles or hissing or whatever noise demons made when a living creature was in their presence. She was greeted, though, with nothing but silence. Like a rabbit, Clary poked her head out and glanced either way quickly: there was no one there. Drawing another shuddering breath, she stepped into the hall, but she was quite alone.

He leaves me to my own devices? Clary wondered. That's rather trustworthy of him.

She began the long journey down to the Great Hall where meals were served. As she went, she saw no one and nothing, and instead, noticed how little the castle had changed. All the paintings were still in the place, all the sculptures, even the rugs and wall hangings had remained the same. It was as if Jonathan had barely bothered to announce his rein and was just waiting for Valentine to return.

The longer she went alone, the more it disturbed Clary, though. Before, even though her father had been cruel, there could be heard voices and laughter, the footfalls of foolish girls and pompous men, the sound of life; now, there was simply silence. It was almost like the castle had not be claimed, simply emptied, abandoned. It was a dead place.

Clary picked up her pace, wishing she would meet anyone. It was then that she realized Jonathan's logic. He's not being trustworthy; he's letting me know I can't escape. He's so sure of himself that he doesn't bother watching me, he thinks he's already won.

Clary finally arrived at the doors to the Great Hall, but even these were empty of guards or sentries. She stood before them, staring up at the doors she'd known all her life, and wanted to turn back. She wanted to run back to Jace, back to the protection he offered, but she glanced down at the rune on her arm, and, instead, reached out for him. Almost at once, Jace's presence engulfed her and she felt a few of the goosebumps on her arm vanish. She knew she had to go, she knew that her brother was in there somewhere and she was the only willing to help him, but it didn't make it any less terrifying. Daintily, Clary pressed on the door and it swung open on its own accord.

There was complete silence. It lasted for seconds, for almost a minute, and it was the most disturbing moment of Clary's life, the silence, and it kept going and going, stretching into nothingness. She stepped carefully into the hall, aware of hundreds of faces turned her way, and all of them looking at her with empty eyes. A few more steps, and still, there was silence, just the dead eyes watching her. Clary swallowed.

"Jonathan?" Clary called out. Her voice echoed all over the hall and she saw a few of the creatures flick their tongues out.

"Clarissa," Jonathan said, and she turned to see him standing before the throne. He was smiling widely. "My sister, the princess Clarissa."

At his announcement noise suddenly broke out. All over the hall was the hissing, spitting, snarling sounds of demons breaking out into conversation. Clary felt a shiver race up her spine and when she looked down at her arm, bumps were raised. They were all standing now, craning to get better looks at her, smiling so wide their jaws had unhinged. A few had forgotten that they were supposed to be people and long, fat, purple tongues hung out of their mouths.

Clary felt a wave of nausea hit her, but Jonathan was standing not far away, smirking victoriously down at her; she needed to help him. Pressing down all her terror and disgust, Clary lifted her chin and began the long walk across the hall, demon-people pressing closer. As she approached, Jonathan gave himself a little shake and brushed the sleeves of his jacket. When Clary stood before him, looking up with her fiery green eyes, he bowed.

"I am so pleased," Jonathan said to the crowd of on looking demons, "to have my dearest, most beautiful Clarissa returned to me." Clary noted that he didn't say she was his sister. "Stolen from my fastness in the dead of night by degenerates, and locked away among such monsters as the shadowhunters. But, she is here now, and I know we are all so pleased to have her back."

The demons banged the their fists on the tables, stamped their feet with more force than necessary, and a few jumped up and down, as if there was too much energy in their bodies and they were bursting with it. Clary wanted to flee, but the doors were too far away, and she was sure Jonathan would send someone after her; with no other option, Clary took a few uncertain steps toward Jonathan. His eyes glimmered, but she saw the smirk leave his face to be replaced by a more sympathetic look.

"I'm sure you will all do your best to make Clarissa feel at home again," Jonathan continued. "I, for one, am more than happy to indulge my princess. Clarissa, would you care to eat? We have been waiting."

Her mouth was dry so she licked her lips and Jonathan came down from the platform and bowed low. When he came up he winked cheekily at her, offering her his arm. "May I take you to your seat?"

You need him on your side, you need him to like you. Clary sank into an elegant curtsey and placed her fingers on the crook of his arm. "If you would be so kind."

"I will be kind to you, Clary, if you promise to be kind in return," he answered with a quick flash of his teeth.

It's been too long since I've played these word games, Clary sighed to herself. "Kindness is relative, don't you think?"

Jonathan mulled it over while he took her to her chair. Like any gentlemen, he pulled it out, helped hit sit, and then pushed it in for her. He then took the seat directly to her left. When he sat, he cleared his throat and turned a look on her. "I suppose I shall have to be relatively better than, shan't I?"

Clary stared down at her plate. Better than who? "One must always try to better oneself," Clary reasoned. Jonathan's dark eyes flickered and then he tossed his head back and laughed. It was a gesture so like her father that Clary flinched a bit.

"I am happy you are back, Clary," Jonathan pronounced, a few of the demons turning to him. "You will certainly liven things up, won't you?"

Clary was sure that was a taunt about the current state of the court, but she chose to ignore it, and instead looked about irritably. "Are we going to be eating this morning or just dining on pleasant conversation?"

"Both?" Jonathan offered, but then turned to the doors. Clary's eyes followed his and she saw that there was human there, an actual human, who nodded and left only to return a few minutes later carrying a single tray. It was piled with food, but there was no way it could have fed the court.

"Are we sharing?" Clary asked as the man placed a plate of eggs, salad, ham, and warmed bread before her.

Jonathan was already cutting his meat. "Sharing with whom?"

"Your lords and ladies," Clary said, looking about. The demon people were staring back at her with an unpleasant, hungry look. "They look like they could use a meal or two."

"Oh, no," Jonathan said softly. "They don't quite have the same diet you and I do; no, they will eat later when you're not here. I don't want to upset you."

Upset me? "Well, I suppose I'm grateful for that, but still, they're looking at my plate rather…keenly. Are you sure they don't want to eat?"

This seemed to upset Jonathan, whose bright smile slipped; he slammed his hand on the table and the demons' attention was turned on him. "What type of proper folk do you call yourselves, watching Clary eat like starving dogs?"

Clary was shocked to see that the demons looked contrite, as if Jonathan's words really had bothered them. Many of them dropped their faces or looked elsewhere. Why do they care what he says? As far as demons go, he's as much demon as they are, not any better. Clary took a small bite from her eggs and they steamed pleasantly in her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully, sneaking peeks at Jonathan who was now eating grumpily. After a few moments of silence, Clary cleared her throat. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?" Jonathan asked suddenly, turning his face to her. He looked confused, even a little concerned, and Clary had a flashing image of her brother as he could have been.

Clary bit her lip. "Your de…court seems quite taken with you; I don't think even father could have kept the lords in check so well."

"Do you really want to know?" Jonathan asked conspiratorially. He leaned in closer until Clary could feel the heat emanating from his body; she caught the faint scent of something like grass, fresh grass and wondered distantly where the grass was growing in this land. "The truth is…I'm naturally charismatic."

The breath left her quickly but she quirked her lips up. "Forgive me, I find it difficult to believe."

"Why?" Jonathan looked outraged, but she could tell it was all an act.

"I seem to recall a certain boy who used to steal my dolls unless I agreed to play with him," Clary chimed, returning to her food. "Not quite so charming then."

The memory of their shared time together, even though it was their childhood, pleased Jonathan. "And I recall that a certain boy never once harmed a hair on the dolls heads."

"Yes, but that was my charisma at work then, not yours," Clary pointed out.

Jonathan chuckled. "Well, you're certainly charming enough. Tell me, did you sleep well?"

"Oh, yes," said Clary emptily. Be nice, be charming; remember, Jonathan is there somewhere. "It's been quite some time since I've slept in a bed quite so large, or so comfortable. I almost forgot what down felt like."

"It must have been terrible for you," Jonathan said, mock seriously. "I can only imagine what trials you were faced with…building your own fires, I suppose, and having to wash your own laundry?"

"That's not the least of it," Clary smiled. Get him into a good mood, get him to open up. "Cooking my own food."

"Terminal Domestication, that's what it is," Jonathan said, nodding his head like it were horrible disease. "I'm afraid there's only one cure."

"Oh?" Clary batted her eyelashes. "Bed rest and cod liver oil?"

"Worse. Outdoor activities," Jonathan said and then grinned like a child. "I'm afraid you'll have to come out this afternoon for the ice fair."

As much as Clary wanted to go back to Jace, the thought of an ice fair woke a number of pleasant memories in her. It had been years since the winters were cold enough to freeze the river, but, she supposed the strange demon activity kept the land cold. Still, she couldn't deny that the idea of spending an afternoon skating, drinking hot, mulled wine, and watching ice carvers was intriguing.

It can't hurt to play along, she reasoned, but her mind did move back to Jace and Aline up in her rooms. "You're quite the physician," she said reasonably, "but I find I'm suffering one other symptom from my sickness."

"And what is it?" Jonathan asked.

"The wife in me, I'm afraid, can't allow Jace to go without food all day-" She saw Jonathan's eyes darken just a bit "-while I spend my entire day out on the ice with you and your court."

The darkness left Jonathan's gaze. "Well, I won't have you worrying over something so meaningless; would you like to take leftovers up?"

If I see Jace, I won't be able to leave his side. "I'm the one whose suffering severe terminal domestication, I'm hardly in shape to go running up stairs. I think it's best that I get out as soon as I can."

"I couldn't agree more." Jonathan waved the man over again. "When we're done eating, take the leftover food up to the Queen's rooms and leave them there for the servants."

I'm sorry, Jace, she thought, but a pulsing heat from traveling up her arm from the rune; Jace was there, that's all that mattered, and he knew she loved him. "Thank you, Jonathan."

"Well, I must keep my little Clary happy," Jonathan said, but it seemed more about keeping him happy than her. "So, shall we finish our meal and head out?"

No, no really we shouldn't. "That sounds lovely."

Clary finished off her eggs and a bit of the bread before rising up; Jonathan came up with her and helped her out of her seat, taking a firm, reassuring grip on her arm. "Walk with me, Clarissa."

Though it had at first seemed a ridiculous thing to say, as she had no other option, Clary realized that at least ten of the demon people, four of them, female, had made to move toward him, and they shot her contemptuous looks from under lashes. Clary saw a woman's lips pull up like a dog, revealing inch long fangs; she pressed herself against Jonathan in shock.

"Something wrong?" he asked as he led her down from the table and across the hall.

"I don't think your court has taken quite kindly to my presence; I seem to have upset of few of the nobles." Clary glanced back and saw the demon woman was now a beautiful human again, flashing small, perfect white teeth. "Are you sure I'm quite safe?"

Jonathan looked down at her and offered her a very kind smile. "So long as you're with me, Clarissa, there's nothing for you to fear. Just stay by my side."

Clary wasn't sure she had a choice with the demons pressing in, so she nodded and allowed him to take her down the halls and toward the large doors that would open onto the garden. The first steps out onto the lawns woke a frantic energy in Clary, a desperation; she looked out and saw the river in the distance and knew it wouldn't be hard for her to run, to escape. It was the perfect opportunity for her to go, all she had to do was let Jonathan lead her down to the river and then ask to skate on her own. She could go, she could be long gone.

You're not going to leave Jace behind, she said to herself bitterly. If you were gone, nothing would stop Jonathan from killing him. And you have to stay, you have to help Jonathan. Still, Clary couldn't quite stop wondering if she could escape.

Jonathan made a gesture to someone behind them and another human servant came forward, offered Jonathan and Clary thick, fur cloaks, and then fell back. Jonathan turned Clary about and wrapped the cloak around her. As he tightened the clasp at her throat he said, "I don't want you catching cold; such a small thing, it would be so easy to lose you." Clary had been looking down at her feet in their shiny, warm boots, but when he said that, she looked up, searching his face for that smug victory she was so accustomed to. What she saw instead was a very real, very serious look. "You and I are the last, Clary. I don't want to be alone."

"The last of what?"

Jonathan's eye darkened. "Valentine's creations."

Before Clary could respond, Jonathan offered her his arm again and led her across the lawns. She saw that they seemed frozen in time, the grass covered in a fine dusting of white, the flowers that had shot forth were locked in the ice, even the delicate petals and leaves were locked in their wintery prison. Beneath her feet, snow and grass crunched loudly, and she shivered in the cold; in response, Jonathan only pulled her in closer. Soon, they stood before the river, frozen solid.

Just as Clary remembered, there were already men who had gone down and set up small carts to sell their wares to the lords and ladies, there were servants who were waiting on the side, warming up the water to make hot cocoa and mulled wine, and a thin, pale man who must have come from the city proper was there, boxes stacked before him. It was to this man that Jonathan drew Clary.

"I've sent for skates to be made for you, Clary," Jonathan explained. "We just need you try them on to know we've gotten the right size."

The man smiled at Clary, as if this must have been an exciting day for her, and then gestured her to sit on a small stool he brought while he carefully unwrapped his wares. Beautiful whale-bone skates were hidden inside the boxes, all in different sizes. He swiftly took Clary's boots off and began slipping her feet into skates. On the third try he got it right, and he laced them tightly, tying off big bows before he set to sharpening the bones one last time. He gave her feet a tender squeeze.

"A proper fit at last, milady," he said and then helped her to stand unsteadily on the thin skates. "If you would be so kind as to help her to ice, milord?" he asked Jonathan, handing Clary off to him.

"Careful there," Jonathan warned when Clary tipped against him, but he caught her deftly and helped her wobble over to the ice. "Now, go and play while I settle a few things," said Jonathan, releasing her onto the ice.

Clary wanted to stay and see if she couldn't figure out what things he wanted to settled, but Jonathan gave her a gentle push and she was soaring across the ice. When she was young, Jocelyn had taught her and Jonathan how to skate, and, her natural balance and grace attained from years of training, made her quite the accomplished skater. Before she really knew what she was doing, Clary began to skate in smaller and smaller circles, finally performing a few pirouettes, her skirts flying out around her. For a single moment, she felt that strange sensation where it was her own inertia sending her around and around and all she had to do was close her eyes and let her body go; she felt like she were flying.

"Bravo!" cried Jonathan from the shore, and Clary saw he wasn't wearing skates.

Clary glided over to him. "You're not skating?"

"Not today, I'm afraid," Jonathan said. "However, I am more than content to watch you. You're happy," he observed. "It makes me happy."

Clary frowned a bit; she had hoped to get him out on the ice and into her confidence. "Are you so sure? I know it's been a while, but I shan't make you look too terrible compared to me."

Jonathan laughed. "No, Clary, not today, but go on, enjoy yourself."

Well that's pointless, isn't it? Still, Clary had no choice. She bowed carefully on the ice and then shot off, weaving between lords and ladies who had joined her. A few shot her nasty looks; clearly, even demons felt jealously that Clary was Jonathan's new favorite. She spent a pleasant afternoon spinning, jumping, and twirling about on the ice while Jonathan watched her every move. When she was tired, she returned to shore where Jonathan helped her back into boots. Afterward, a tent was erected and Clary sat beside Jonathan sipping warm wine while ice carvers came and made glorious sculptures of blocks of ice. As the sun began to sink, Clary felt a shiver race up her spine.

"You're cold," Jonathan said, staring at her face. "We'll go in now and have our dinner."

"We can stay-"

"That's unnecessary," Jonathan said indifferently. "I didn't bring the court down for their entertainment."

Jonathan brought Clary up to the castle and was going to lead her back to the Great Hall, but she paused uncertainly. "Don't I need to change? Father would have been mad if I went to dinner in my day things-"

"Father isn't king anymore," Jonathan said, and his voice was hard. "I am, and I say you can dine however you like."

Clary giggled sweetly and Jonathan smiled wider. "Such a reckless man."

"You couldn't even begin to guess," Jonathan said, and he led her in to eat.

Dinner was better than breakfast had been, mostly because Jonathan kept up a steady stream of conversation, mostly concerning memories from their childhood. Though she was well aware of the demons all around her, Jonathan seemed to keep them at a bay, and she found it was comforting to be attached to the only living thing in the room, to be protected by the most powerful man in the land. When the meal ended, Jonathan called for music, and he led Clary out onto the floor; fleetingly, Clary wished it was Jace she was dancing with, but if Jace had been there, Jonathan would have been swift to turn nasty.

As night wore on, Clary danced, ate little bits, danced some more, drank wine, and kept dancing until the room was spinning. It was so unlike her father's court where there were rules and regulations, where there was structure. Jonathan's court was almost like madness, Clary thought; she could do or say anything and no one would stop her. At one point, Clary remembered loudly pointing out how unfashionable a woman's dress was, and Jonathan had roared with laughter, the court quickly echoing him. The wine had made Clary heady, and she felt a tingling in her fingers and toes, and she suddenly wanted to say and do all the things she'd never been allowed in court.

"Steady on," Jonathan warned when Clary stumbled against him in the midst of a song. The line of dancers behind her came to a tumbling halt and she burst out laughing. Jonathan escorted her from the dance floor and to a window where the cool breeze rustled her hair. "You look like you could use a long sleep."

"Another cup of wine, I think," Clary said, eyeing a goblet not far away.

"Too much of a good thing."

Clary shrugged, shaking her hair and watching loose tendrils fall into her face. "Well, you're the doctor. So be it, Jonathan, take me back to my room."

Jonathan raised one eyebrow but bowed and helped her up. "Play on!" Jonathan ordered as he helped Clary cross the room to the halls. The demons howled and Clary felt another shudder race up her spine at the sound of their voices.

"Why do you keep them?" Clary asked as Jonathan helped her along. "The demons, why do you keep them? You could have your own court, your own people. You don't need demons."

"They are my people, Clary," Jonathan said softly. "You'll understand one day."

Clary came a halt. "No, Jonathan, they're not. You're not a demon." She seemed adamant about this. "You're not a demon."

"I'm glad you think that," Jonathan said after a beat, and then he led her on. Clary watched the halls spin and the paintings blur as she passed. "Do you like it here?"

Clary was staring up at the intricate designs of the ceiling, spinning like shooting stars. "It's cold, Jonathan, but not in the way I remember."

"Well we can't live in the summer all the time," Jonathan reasoned.

"I can," said Clary with a lazy smile. "I can make anything I want. I can live in the light for the rest of my days. I think I'd like that…"

Jonathan looked down, smiling faintly, but not speaking. He eventually got her back to his rooms and pointed to the corridor that led back to her chambers. "Your room, milady."

Clary waved a finger at Jonathan. "You're being serious again."

"Maybe I am, but that's just who I am," Jonathan said, considering her. "We can't live in the light all the time."

We can't live in the light… "We'll see," Clary said mysteriously, but Jonathan simple bowed to her and turned, leaving her standing before the doors to her rooms, quite alone.

Clary stumbled back into the sitting room, finding Jace lying on the couch before the fire, a book drooping in his grip. She staggered over to him, landing in a heap beside him; Jace jerked awake and was about to ask her how everything had gone when she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him into a very passionate kiss.

"Have you been drinking, Clary?" Jace asked, only half serious. That's rather unlady-like of you."

"Well, we can't live in the light all the time, can we?" she asked, and then promptly collapsed against him, asleep.