Disclaimer: I only own the plot.

Clary and Isabelle had found a inconspicuous (or as inconspicuous as possible when it comes to Isabelle) position not too far from the back of the hall where, they occupied one of the long wooden benches. Clary's sharp eyes scanned the room, that deeply ingrained paranoia not allowing her to relax for even a moment. She saw that they weren't the only people who had sat down, though the floor was still packed with dancing bodies. Alec had joined Jace at the very back of the hall, next to the table of food, engaging him, Jonathan Morgenstern, and the dark-haired boy Clary had seen earlier in conversation.

She continued with her sweep of the room. A very sparkly man was speaking in seemingly light tones with Valentine and Jocelyn, though the King had a face as solemn as stone. Celine and Stephen were still in their thrones. Stephen was surveying everyone with the same hawk-eyed intensity as Clary herself. Before his gaze met hers, she flicked her eyes away towards the group at the back, only to lock eye contact with Jonathan.

The stare he gave her was calm and calculating, with his right eyebrow slightly quirked, though she noticed his restlessness and tense posture. He was as paranoid as she was. She met it head on, keeping her face blank even as he narrowed his eyes, confusion clouding his face. She noted absently that his irises were a dark green behind the black mask.

She was the first to break the connection, but she was expressionless enough that he could interpret it as he willed.

Her eyes shifted to Jace and her heart clapped when she saw he was looking back. Blush that she didn't need to fake reddened her cheeks and she desperately hoped he couldn't tell from this distance.

A quiet but distinctly unladylike snort emanated from Isabelle.

"What?" Clary hissed. Isabelle just studied at her with that infuriatingly superior look on her face. She jumped as someone sat on the bench next to them. When Clary turned, she saw Alec wearing an identical expression to his little sister. She looked between the two of them, glaring.

"'There is nothing'," Isabelle's words dripped sweetness as she quoted Clary from earlier. "'Let it go.'"

Clary kicked her in the ankle.

Jace felt the intense gaze studying him even before he turned, and felt it when it moved on. He knew enough to guess who it was, too. He had been stealing covert glances at Clary since she and Isabelle had walked in the hall.

A fact that, apparently, had not gone unnoticed by the demon known as Jonathan Morgenstern.

"Who's that you keep gazing at?" He asked, dark eyes glittering as he pointed over at the two girls. "The red-haired one, or the black-haired one?"

Alexander Lightwood - Alec, he'd heard his sisters call him - and Sebastian paused in their confusing discussion of politics Jace barely grasped, to look over at the two princes, one smirking, the other standing in awkward silence. They, also, looked over at the sisters.

Jace saw Isabelle notice their stares, and realise that they weren't looking at her. She raised an eyebrow, casting a side glance at Clary as she remained blissfully unaware of the attention being paid to her. The brunette smiled gloatingly.

Alec narrowed his eyes. "They're my sisters: Isabelle Lightwood and Clary Fray."

Jonathan's eyes sparked; he evidently remembered his and Jace's earlier discussion. But he kept his face neutral. "Fray? Not Lightwood?" He asked cautiously. His appearance was as carefully controlled as his father's.

"Clary was adopted." Jace said curtly, before Alec could get a word out. The Lightwood looked slightly fazed at the hostility in the Prince's voice. Evidently he wasn't as good at masking his emotions as Jonathan.

The prince raised his eyebrows and tilted his head, amusement laced into his features. "Clary?"

Of course he would read too far into Jace using her first name.

Jonathan glanced over at Clary and Isabelle again - and froze. Clary was looking back at him. Despite the arrogance and the challenge in his face, she didn't back down, keeping her facial features blank as a canvas. Jonathan's collected expression began to slip. Jace had a moment of satisfaction as he realised he wasn't the only one she managed to confuse.

Then her gaze shifted to his. From this distance, he couldn't tell the precise green of her eyes, but he held it in his memory as clear as glass. Her delicate face was hidden behind the mask but she still looked beautiful. Her hair was tied up - as it almost always was - but he loved seeing it down. He swallowed to try and wet his dry mouth. It was like she had put him under a spell just by looking at him.

Then she turned to respond to whatever Isabelle had said, and the moment slipped into the past. Jace turned back to Jonathan, expecting him to chuckle and tease him about it, but he looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"What's wrong?" He asked out of habit.

Jonathan's brow creased. "She looked... sort of familiar. Like someone I saw long ago."

Isabelle had left to accept one of the many offers to dance from various suitors, leaving her sitting on her own on the bench, since Alec had returned to discuss God-only-knows-what with the dark-haired boy, who he had called Sebastian.

Clary felt his burning presence before she acknowledged him, like how you may have your back facing a fire but you can still feel the heat from it drenching you. She gulped surreptitiously before looking up.

Jace's infamous smirk hung across his face like a lopsided crescent moon, but his eyes were uncharacteristically solemn. He had always seemed like two different people to Clary. There was the one who wore the smirk as a medal, that caused him to be branded a womaniser and a player and a man whore. Then there was the one she knew that not many people got to see. The one that asked her if she was alright when her eyes were ever so slightly puffy from the guilt-racked nightmares she had been plagued with a month ago that even Alec and Isabelle hadn't noticed, the side that kept the secret he had overheard from a conversation between Alec, Isabelle and Clary about Alec's sexuality.

Looking at him now, when he held remnants of both people in his face, she would be lying if she said it didn't give her a slight headache.

He held a hand out. It was trembling, despite his confident posture. This boy was a walking contradiction. "Dance with me?" He asked, and even Clary, a master at reading people, couldn't tell what emotion his voice held.

She wanted to. So much.

They had danced before. But this was public. This wasn't in a secret garden, accessed by a hidden passageway, cloaked in darkness, with no one around to hear the lack of music, or see the closeness of their bodies. This wasn't as ethereal and unreal as a dream woven of spider's silk. This was solid, and undeniable, and real.

And if what had happened last time happened again...

She blushed fiercely, waking up from her daze to see Jace smiling fondly at her. "I love your blush." He said simply.

Has he gone mad?

She blushed even more deeply. Jace's eyes blazed. "Don't be so afraid, Clary." He said softly. "You don't need to be so cautious all the time."

You really have no idea what you're talking about. Nevertheless she took his outstretched hand, trying not to acknowledge the tingle of electricity that crackled up her arm at the contact. But she knew he wasn't fooled as she walked with him to the dance floor, keeping a firm grip on his hand.

Clary had always been afraid of losing control. Whether it be of herself, or her situation, she hated it. And no one made her lose control as much as Jace did.

The music changed to a slow song, with lots of violins in it. Jace pulled her towards him, until they were so close their clothes brushed. "Clary." He breathed, like her name was a chant.

She stepped back, putting a more respectable distance between them, and not just because her stomach was turning from the glare of the King scorching her back. "Jonathan." She replied, trying to keep the breathiness out of her voice.

His eyes were passive, but she sensed that her actions had hurt. He chuckled humourlessly. "You don't need to be so formal all the time, either."

Is this a joke? Are the angels mocking me? "You have no idea." She retorted.

His gaze didn't so much as waver as it searched her face for something. Then, in an almost inaudible voice, came "I know you're my father's assassin."

She stopped moving altogether. He tugged her lightly to make her start again. Her breath came in short gasps. "Loosen up; if you're that stiff people will think you don't want to dance with me." He chastised, pointedly avoiding elaborating on what he just said, for which she was grateful.

"Maybe I don't want to dance with you." She looked up at him through lowered, coppery lashes.

"You accepted" was the only reply. He gently spun her. "Just let go, Clary. You can trust me."

Dancing with him made her feel light, as though with every step the heavy guilt weighing down her heart dissipated into the atmosphere. And in its absence, she felt free.

So Clary relaxed and let him guide her, as she relinquished control.

What did you think of Jonathan's reaction to seeing Clary? Of Jace asking her to dance? Do you have any comments?

Review!