Back from Morocco! And, my gosh, it was amazing. But on to things you're probably actually interested in…
This is the second last chapter.
And the last should be up in the next few days! I may do a sequel story, but let me know at the end of the next chapter what you think. So, anyway, enjoy…
Clary's vision went white. All she could hear was Jace's voice repeating over and over. They want to trial you… you, too. She couldn't believe it. Simon would be found guilty, of course- and then spend the rest of his eternal life in the Silent City, all because he tried to save her?
"Clary," someone was repeating, shaking her shoulders and gripping them so tightly that she could feel bruises start to form in the shape of those strong fingers. "Clary!" She blinked a few times, trying to clear her head. An image swam into focus in front of her. Someone familiar with long dark hair and dark eyes, wide in her pale face. "Izzy?" she croaked.
"Clary, the Clave is here now. You need to get up!" Isabelle pushed a lock of her carefully styled hair back impatiently. The Clave… here… wherever 'here' actually was… she struggled to recollect the events of the past few hours.
The trial.
Simon's trial, her trial.
Clary swore, stumbling quickly out of bed. As she got more and more frantic, Isabelle's calm seemed to return to her. "Good thing some people are organized enough and don't totally blank out for a few hours." She cast a look over her shoulder. "We were worried. No one's ever seen you do something like that."
"Sorry." Clary mumbled distractedly, looking around for her gear. Izzy pointed to a heap of messy black on the chair by the window. After she pulled it on haphazardly, she stared despairingly in the mirror at the mess of fiery red curls. "Here, let me help." Delicate but strong hands began pulling themselves through her hair. It was like being small again, relaxing to her mother's soft voice as she plaited Clary's long hair. Isabelle scooted back after securing her own hair in a matching ponytail and hooked an arm around Clary's shoulders. "I'm really glad you're okay." Tears welled in Clary's eyes. What had she done to deserve this? Nothing. But she had this amazing chance, and it wasn't about to go to waste.
"Thank you so much, Iz. For everything."
"No worries," she shot Clary an easy smirk. "Who else would need my fashion advice more? I can't help that I'm obligated to help those less fortunate than I am." With a mock outraged gasp, she launched herself at Isabelle.
With hair that was not up to Isabelle's standards, Clary made her way to outside the grand double doors of the Gard. To her surprise, by her side was Tessa. When she joined the small group- Jocelyn and the Lightwoods- no explanation was offered as to why she was there. No Marks were visible, so she must be some type of Downworlder or a mundane with the Sight- neither of which were a reason that she would be allowed inside the glass city. Jace and Alec were walking together ahead and Tessa's attention seemed to be fixed on them. Alec's laugh spiraled back towards them. It was no secret around campus that he was gay, but he never seemed to be with anybody. It was against the law to be in love with your parabatai- a major infraction, in fact, so it couldn't be Jace, but someone had obviously gotten Alec's attention.
And this is how you distract yourself. By concerning yourself with things that are NOT your concern.
On the other hand, anything might be better than thinking about what's about to happen.
Simon had been escorted in previously with three Shadowhunter guards and Clary's stomach knotted up as she thought of how they were bound to be treating him. The Accords meant nothing when a Downworlder had broken the law. Someone set a hand on her arm. She looked up into bright golden eyes and suddenly was aware of nothing but the hand on her arm. Her chest contracted as he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "You'll be fine." Noticing how he avoided the subject of Simon, she tried not to focus on the worry in Jace's face when he was normally so good at masking his emotions. Clary set her hand on top of his, summoning up a smile. "I know."
With that, she pulled away and headed into the hall, ready to face hundreds of watchful eyes and a sharp tip that would pierce her mind, forcing truth to make it's way through her lips.
"And you were taken by your brother?" Inquisitor Nightshade asked, her sharp grey eyes probing, calculating. She loomed over Clary, and though the rest of her face was kind, those eyes said everything. This person was not someone to mess around with.
Clary took a deep breath to steady herself. "No." And tried to ignore the intake of breath that came from the collected group of Shadowhunters. "He attacked me, so I jumped into the Portal he had used with no formed destination in mind. As we all know, the Portal will transport you to the last known destination if there is no new one." A few murmurs emanated from the crowd, but there was no disagreement on faces. Isabelle and Jace weren't here- underage Shadowhunters were not allowed to be present- apart from the one getting trialed of course.
"So you ended up where?" Clary recounted her landing in the strange cave-like room, and her search around the manor.
"Enough!" the Consul spoke loudly. "The real question," he stood, addressing the gathered mass and reminding Clary of when Jace had done much the same thing. She had stood there, the hard contours pressing into her palms, weighing them down like it was now. She had been sick to the stomach- like she was now. She wished that she was back there now. However angry Jace, Isabelle and Alec had been, they weren't about to toss her without second thoughts into a Silent City prison cell. She knew that now, wished she'd known it then.
"The real question," the Consul repeated, "is this; were you, or were you not, working with Jonathan and Valentine Morgenstern." Clary's mind spun and her head hurt. Her knees shook, eyes ached and legs felt like jelly. "I…" The effort of keeping herself conscious was almost impossible. Give in! Her mind screamed at her, deafeningly loud, but she couldn't. The Mortal Sword, shaking in her hands, pinned her there, holding her helpless and terrified. Clary gasped. "It… I was… influenced…"
"By who?" the Inquisitor cut in sharply, towering over Clary in not just size.
"Simon…" she whispered hopelessly, "but it wasn't his fault! You can't do a thing to him- he was forced to. Jonathan is captured- punish him!"