Hey, everyone! Happy Thanksgiving to all my readers in the States, and to everyone else, Happy Thursday! I hope you all enjoy this, I was certainly in a holiday mood when I wrote it, it's got a small bit of fluff and sets up some fun chapters in the future.

Chapter Eighteen

Clary

The hot water of the shower hit Clary's back and she sank down to a crouch, knuckles in her mouth to stop the screaming. She curled up as tight as she could, breathing hard and clamping her eyes shut to blot out the rest of the world. Still the water beat down on her, and still she remained in its stream, and eventually she could move again, though with delicacy and care.

The water is good, Clary told herself, the water below her turning faint pink as small globules of blood were washed off. Wash out the new cuts, keep and old ones clean, help the sore muscles relax, and the swelling go down.

It was only this constant reminder that kept Clary in the tub, squirming as her body begged for a release. After a while, she managed to use the bar in the tub to pull herself up and she leaned against the wall. When Clary peeked down at her feet, she saw that the blood had gone and water was clear again. She sighed in relief and reached for a bottle of soap. As she scrubbed her skin clean of the sweat, she wished more than ever that she could be sitting at Jace's side just then.

Since Jace's whipping almost a week prior, Clary had been spending her time with him. She had proven a good nurse, waiting on him attentively, bringing him food for every meal, a warm washcloth to gently scrub at his back to stop infection, and helping him into fresh clothing. She would stay up late into the night with him, and though Jace begged her to sleep because she needed to be rested for her lessons, she would wait until he had fallen asleep before curling up at his side. She knew, though Jace didn't like admitting it, that he was grateful that she cared for him, because Clary knew the alternative was for her mother or Valentine to be checking in on him.

However, her time spent with Jace was taking from her studies, and two days after the whipping, Clary had performed so badly in a practice hunt that her father had struck her, leaving a new bruise to mark her face. The ugly purple splotch on her face didn't go unnoticed by Jace's keen eyes and had blamed himself for it. Afterward, he would only let Clary stay in his room in the evenings if she would study; Jace took up the role of mentor since he couldn't move much, and would sit with her, teaching her languages and histories of Idris and demons.

Once in a while, Jocelyn would peek in on them, and Clary would see her mother and Jace exchange a quick look, though what they meant, she didn't know. Jocelyn, it seemed, was determined that Clary and Jace have time together unhampered by whatever violence Valentine could think of, because her father left them alone. It was always a relief to snuggle under the covers with Jace and listen to the rhythms of his voice as he spoke in Latin, Greek, and French.

Now, though, Clary had only just returned from a sparring lesson with Jonathan, and had painting in an hour. Her father had given her one look, from her messy hair to her dirt streaked face, not to mention a few nasty scratches, and told her to go "clean up" in his derisive way. She had slouched up to her room, stripped off the sparring clothing and slipped into the shower.

She turned the knobs on the shower until they stopped and then wrapped herself firmly in a towel. Clary stood before her mirror and rotated on the spot, getting a good look at the marks on her back. They weren't lashes like Jace, because Jonathan had used the flat edge of his sword to hit her, but they were ugly, red, and painful. Quickly, she whipped around and stared at her face; her most recent bruise was already fading, like her body was adjusting to the new routine of being hit.

"It'll still need cover-up," Clary said dismally, and reached into a drawer for the makeup. As she applied it, she thought what the rest of the day had in store. Aline would be there, which was a benefit since her brother and father wouldn't hit her or Jace in front of her, and Aline was her only link to the outside world.

Though Clary and Aline had had a rather rough start, Aline had become a quick ally for Clary, and was more than happy to sit with her much longer than required, speaking of nothing important and sipping tea, keeping her father at bay. The two had, after a few weeks, built up quite a repertoire between them, and Clary could decipher Aline's remarks about the state of Idris.

It seemed that her father had located the unfortunate children who had attacked her and Jace, and both they and their families had been severely punished. Aline also hadn't seen either Isabelle or Alec, though she had heard a rumor that some very important man's son would soon be coming to the school. Clary didn't really think the "important man's son" was Alec, since, according to Jace, Isabelle and Alec had been adopted out to someone after their parents had been removed from the Clave, but she still nodded when she saw the hope in Aline's eyes.

It also appeared that the festival celebrating Valentine's victory over the demons and the formation of the new Clave was still to take place, and in a week. Aline, though clearly downtrodden, couldn't keep a look of excitement off her face as they discussed the ideas of dancing and drinking. It was this that they turned to today.

"My mother has sent for a dress for me," Aline said, eyes gleaming. "Something in yellow I think; she says it will look nice with my dark hair. Have you gotten your dress ready?"

Clary shrugged and regretted it at once when her back flared to life. "I'm not really going to the celebration with everyone. My father said the important families are celebrating separately in the Accords Hall, and it's much more formal and fancy." Clary said the last word with a grimace and smiled sadly at Aline. "I wish I could be out with you."

"Then what will your formal dress look like?"

"It's some big, stupid gown," Clary muttered darkly. "With lots of layers and fabric and I hate it."

Aline snorted and her paintbrush slipped, making a big, black streak across the tree she was capturing. "Why?"

"I'm not exactly graceful, am I?" she asked smartly. "It's all I need if for me to go tripping all over the Accords Hall. I'll never hear the end of it."

Aline knew Clary meant that her father would be angry, but she tactfully didn't comment. "Are you going with someone?"

Clary flashed her a quick look. "Jace is going to be allowed to escort me, my father says, but only because we'll be under careful supervision."

"Where is Jace?" asked Aline at once. "I haven't seen him in days."

"He's sick," said Clary quickly, so quickly Aline knew she was lying. "He's had a bad fever for days and my mother thinks he might have the flu. She's probably up there with him right now."

"Must be pretty bad if the fever hasn't broken in days," Aline observed.

"It is," Clary answered, and returned to her painting for a few minutes. Her thoughts had turned again to Jace, and she worried more and more each day that Valentine was going to go hurt him for not being up and about.

After a few minutes of silence Aline cleared her throat. "It's Malachi, his son who's coming to the school soon. I heard just yesterday that he was enrolling him in the upper level classes."

Clary raised her eyebrows. "Do you know him?"

"Malachi doesn't have a son," Aline said evenly. "I heard my parents talking about it after I told them; my mother said Malachi never got married or had children. And, if this son of his is in the upper level classes, he must be really good. Only shadowhunters who are about to come of age are taking those."

"Alec is eighteen," Clary said thoughtfully.

"No, I mean coming of the new age," Aline said. "It means he's either almost twenty-one or he's just really good. Or both, I suppose."

Clary considered Alec. He hadn't ever displayed any amazing skill like Jace, but he had been raised among the Downworlders and demons of the Mundane world. He would certainly be better trained than a shadowhunter raised in the safety of Alicante. She wondered if Jace had any way of reaching out to him; being separated from her only friends in this world had been bad enough, but she could only imagine what Jace was feeling.

"Well, Malachi will be present at the special dinner we're having during the celebration. If it is Alec, I'll see him then."

Aline raised one eyebrow but nodded her head all the same. "Are you excited to go with Jace? I mean, now that you two are, well, together, you must be so pleased."

"I am happy," said Clary with a faint smile. "Sometimes I wonder what's going to happen to us, but I suppose with time, my father will let us leave."

"Leave Alicante?" Aline asked sharply.

"No, no I don't think so," Clary said and she stared at her painting. "Maybe just live alone."

No sooner had the words left her mouth than Clary could taste them turn to ash. She could just picture the rest of her life, stretching out before her, an endless void of smiling and laughing and living in fear of her father's wrath. She had Jace, that was true, but how long would she have him before her father decided he needed Jace for something else. Would they spend the rest of their days trapped in Idris, constantly under the careful watch of Valentine? And then what? Once Valentine was dead his rule would switch to Jonathan, and Clary was still haunted by her last close encounter with Jonathan. She could still remember the hungry way he'd looked at her, the way his hands had grabbed possessively at her shirt.

That was Jace, she said firmly. It was Jonathan feeling Jace's emotions and using them. He doesn't actually want you that way. Jonathan doesn't want anyone that way.

"Do you enjoy school?" Clary asked to end the silence. "Do you see your friends very often?"

"Yes," said Aline with small relish. "Yes, we have lessons together and we eat lunch together, and we study together in the library. I think you would like it there, too, being around students your own age. It must get lonely here."

You have no idea. "Yes, but I learn so much more when I'm here. My father and brother take turns teaching me how to fight, and Jace helps me with languages and runes…when I need it." She smiled a bit. "I'm good with runes."

"I heard," Aline whispered and then glanced about. "Have you tried…making a new rune lately?"

Have I tried freeing myself from my father's runes, you mean? "The Cup bore the blessing of the Angel, and I don't think my runes are strong enough to overcome his will. I've been experimenting but…it's hard to create something. I don't know if I can explain it but I need to feel the rune before I make it. It has to mean something to me; it can't just be that I feel like making something." Clary shuddered delicately. "Trust me, my father has tried."

The memory of her father's anger when she failed to make him the rune he asked for still lingered with her, a horrible hour of threats and warnings and promises to make her miserable, all so quiet her mother couldn't hear in the room down the hall. Clary had sat at her desk for hours, trying to make something, anything, but her heart had failed her and she'd just scribbled pointless lines and circles. Valentine had not been pleased, was sure she was toying with him, and broken the fingers on her right hand. Afterward, he'd given her a stele and told her to heal herself before her mother saw.

"I keep trying though," Clary said under her breath, and Aline shook her head just a little as she heard the door to the house open.

"I do wish," she said loudly, "that you and I could get ready for the celebration together. Being an only child means I just sit in front of a mirror alone."

Clary blinked, confused, and then heard the low rumble of her father's voice, calling for her mother. "Aren't your friends going to be joining you?"

"They don't live in the inner circle of the city like we do," explained Aline with a rueful smile. "We Penhallows are important, just not like you. I'll see you, though, won't I?"

"I would think so-"

"For a little bit, at least."

"Mrs. Morgenstern," said Aline, standing and smiling at Clary's mother. "Where have you been all day?"

"I had business to attend to, I'm afraid, and it couldn't wait. Let me see what you two have done." Jocelyn admired Aline's work, smiling a bit at the tree with the black streak. She moved to Clary's and bit her lip. "Your strokes are a bit sloppy, dear. Messy."

"Does that matter?" Clary asked shrewdly.

"Well, you father wanted to see how your work was coming along…"

Oh, hell, thought Clary, glancing at her messy work. "I'll fix it up a bit while Aline cleans her things. Where is he?"

"In his study," Jocelyn said. "Just take it up to him when you're done."

"I think it looks amazing," Aline whispered to Clary and she went to wash her brushes. "Really good."

Clary looked up at Aline, but she didn't smile. She knew better. Valentine had recently expressed his dislike of her painting skills, saying she wasn't improving one jot and that if things didn't change he would have to take away her art lessons and replace them with some other creative pastime. The truth was that Clary just didn't have the heart to paint beautiful things anymore.

As Aline cleaned, Jocelyn joined Clary and sat by her side, studying the picture. "I know this isn't exactly your favorite thing to paint, but if you show Valentine you can paint the basics-"

"Basics?" Clary asked sharply as she trimmed the lines on her trees. "This is pointless, pretty garbage."

"Valentine has very refined ideas about what he believes to be art," observed Jocelyn, and Clary was shocked to see her lips quirk up. "If you show him you're willing to paint what he wants, he'll let you try your hand at other things. Just make sure it's pretty."

Clary glanced at her picture. It was the view of Alicante from their house on the hill. Small houses and buildings poked up from the many trees she had painted. In the foreground were the Gard and the Accords Hall, which she had chosen to paint glowing with light, as if a celebration were being held. Far back in the distance, Lake Lyn sparkled in the light.

"This is pretty, just not perfect," Clary muttered. "He won't be happy unless it's perfect."

Jocelyn smiled faintly at her. "I'll speak to him; he should know by now that art is never perfect. He's lived with me long enough."

"He hasn't lived with me," Clary said under her breath and picked up the picture. "I'll take this up to him, I guess."

"Keep a civil tongue with him, Clary, he seems to be in a good mood," warned Jocelyn. "And your dress arrived today. It'll have to be fitted tomorrow."

Clary rolled her eyes just as Aline returned. "You're getting your dress tomorrow? Can I come over and see it? There's no school, so I'll have plenty of time and-"

"Yes, you may," said Jocelyn promptly, shooting Clary a quick look. "Her father wanted to see it, but maybe we can make it into a trip between us girls. Clary and I will come by your house tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," said Clary, and then she winked and passed by Aline, hefting the painting up the stairs.

Well, at least Valentine can't hound me tomorrow with Aline around, Clary thought gratefully.

Though she tried her best to take her time walking to her father's study, it seemed all too soon that his door was before her. She went to knock, but the sound of her name held her up.

"…make Clary behave. You've seen how well mannered she is when I'm around."

Jace? Clary thought, stepping to the side of the door to listen closely.

"I see that she behaves much the same, it's you who tempers yourself," said Valentine unhelpfully. "Why should I believe that your presence will be more helpful than it has already failed to be?"

"We need to be in closer proximity to one and other, spend more time together." Clary frowned. "She needs to know that her actions are directly linked to my state of well-being; she'll be afraid for me and do whatever we say."

"Whatever we say?" Valentine sneered.

"You must have noticed she doesn't like you?" Jace asked, and Clary could hear the smirk in his voice. "If you give me your orders, I can pass them on to her; she'll be much more inclined to listen to me."

"True," Valentine murmured. "You have an unusually strong grip on her."

"I prefer not to call it a grip," said Jace uncomfortably. "Let me take care of Clary. She'll do whatever you like as long as I'm there, but you have to keep me there."

"And how would you suggest I keep you two together? You see each other at night, and I know you're helping her with her languages."

"More often than that," Jace urged, and Clary could hear how desperate he sounded. "I can take lessons with her. I'll be good encouragement for her anyway; she'll see how a proper shadowhunter trains."

Clary heard the creak of a chair and knew Valentine was leaning back in his seat. "I prefer to train her in private."

"I recall," said Jace in a hard voice.

"However, I have a better solution," Valentine continued. "You know in the next week that Alicante is hosting a celebration in honor of the Reformation. I have heard that Malachi will be announcing his own engagement during the festivities. Perhaps you can do the same."

There was a long pause and Clary could feel her own heart beating erratically. "An engagement?"

"The best way to keep you and Clary in close contact is for you to be married, however, I do not want my daughter married until she is properly trained. At least until you've reached adulthood and can feasibly support her."

"But why an engagement?"

"I know Clary isn't exactly as beautiful as her mother, but-"

"I didn't say that," Jace snapped.

"You were thinking it, I'm sure."

"I'm not opposed to marrying your daughter, but why are we doing it now?"

Valentine chuckled and Clary shivered. "Because you're right, keeping you two together will guarantee her behavior as well as hedge yours. If you're engaged, the two of you will be expected to attend public functions together, go out, be seen in the company of one and other. It'll be good for her to see you, and this is the easiest way to do that."

"I don't have a ring," Jace said evenly and Clary leaned closer.

"We'll see to that," Valentine dismissed.

"She might not agree to go along with it," Jace warned and Clary shook her head firmly.

Valentine laughed again. "You said you could control her, so I'm sure you can convince her to marry you. We can announce it at the celebration."

Clary heard the long silence stretching out before them, and she knew what Jace was going to say, and she wished with all her heart he wouldn't. Because she loved him. She loved Jace so much and to have her father take that love and ruin it all, just to control her, was almost unbearable. Clary listened closely, thinking how quickly it had all ended; she had tried to fight, tried to stop Valentine, but he was playing a winning hand. She closed her eyes.

"Alright, I'll speak with her tonight."

Alec

It was harder than Alec had thought, walking through that school with no one at his side. He had always thought that Jace would be with him, always a good friend, but now he was alone. What he felt, though Alec could never know, was nervousness and fear, the same nervousness and fear that every new student feels on their first day of school. The only redeeming aspect had been that Alec, an eighteen year old and highly trained, had been placed in a very advanced class.

Still, Alec's fellow classmates didn't take too well to the new addition. He was more used to fighting, more used to Downworlders and demons, and far more driven. Alec knew the only way he would see himself at the dinner during the celebration was by proving to Malachi that he was the best. For once, he felt like Jace, like an amazing, talented shadowhunter. He was still lonely, though, and Alec constantly looked forward to his trip home, even if it meant putting up with Malachi.

"Home already, Alexander?" Malachi asked as he passed Malachi's study on his way up to visit his sister. "I thought you would stay behind and catch up on your work."

"I'm not as far behind as you might think," Alec answered smartly. Malachi frowned and he quickly added, "Sir."

"Yes, well, see to it there's no shirking of your grades. I can just as easily remove you."

"Well, I certainly wouldn't want that, would I?" asked Alec with a slight sneer.

"Dinner is at seven, see that you're there," Malachi said sharply and waved him off.

Alec didn't both to argue, but just carried on, up to his sister's room where she would be practicing runes. He didn't both to knock when he arrived, but instead threw open the door and entered. Isabelle was, as he expected, seated at a desk, looking dour.

"You walk around the house like that and Malachi won't want to marry you," Alec joked gently, and Isabelle's eyes flashed.

"Any luck?"

Alec flopped down on Isabelle's bed looking grim. "I haven't seen Jace or Clary. I would have thought Valentine wanted to start training Clary, but no one knows where she is. And Jace…" Alec looked away at the mention of his brother. "He would have been in one of my classes."

"I wonder where he's keeping them," Isabelle mused. "You don't think he's locked them up, do you? Maybe Valentine is keeping them locked in the Gard or something?"

"I heard a rumor some kids saw her," Alec said softly.

"A rumor?" Isabelle raised on eyebrow.

Alec cleared his throat. "Some girl in the class below me said a bunch of kids saw 'Valentine's Daughter' but Jonathan showed up before they could get a good look at her."

"How do they know it's Clary?" asked Isabelle quickly. "And why wasn't Jace with her?"

"Maybe he was, I don't know." Alec shrugged. "They said she was short with red hair; it's a pretty good description if you were to ask me."

"I guess," Isabelle hedged, "but it seems a little strange that Clary isn't being held captive. I mean, what's Valentine doing with her if he's not training her?"

"He trained Jace himself," Alec pointed out. "Maybe he's personally training Clary."

Isabelle paled. "The Angel help her."

"The Angel help you if this dress doesn't fit," said a gruff voice from the door. Myra came in, holding a large white bag that seemed to be bursting with quite a lot of fabric. She hefted it inside before slamming the door with a snap. "You'd better have as small a waist as those women thought you did."

Isabelle and Alec exchanged looks. "If she keeps up sitting in her room all day, she won't," laughed Alec. "That's a rather good reason to convince Malachi to let you train again. How else will you keep your shape?"

Isabelle shot Alec a nasty look before smiling kindly at Myra. "Let's see it, shall we?"

"You'll look lovely in red," said Myra, slipping the mass of fabric out and flourishing it for Isabelle to see.

Jace

"We should talk," said Jace, struggling up to his feet as Clary entered his room.

"I think I heard the majority of talking this afternoon," said Clary, and she closed the door softly. She wanted to be angry, she wanted to be furious that Jace thought he could control her, but then she saw him twitch as he moved and her determination faltered. "You should sit down, Jace, your back isn't healed yet."

"Healed enough," said Jace evenly, and he gestured her forward. "I would have wanted you to hear that another way, Clary."

"Hear what? That you're plotting with my father to-to control me?" Clary crossed her arms and Jace bit his lip. "Don't lie to me, either, I know what I heard."

Jace watched Clary closely; she looked well enough, though still pale and bit slight. "I'm not plotting with your father, Clary. I'm trying to protect you."

"Protect me?" Clary snapped.

"If I do as your father wishes, he'll want to keep me," said Jace reasonably, "and if you and I are-well, I meant for us just to be together, your father was the one who suggested marriage-he'll spare you for me."

"He was already going to spare me," said Clary, her eyes searching Jace's face. "At least, he was going to keep me alive just to prove he could."

Even as she said it, Clary saw Jace's eyes darken. He looked away and tried to think of some way to explain to her that he was working with her mother to protect her should the need ever become apparent. If your mother really is pregnant, there's nothing stopping Valentine from getting rid of you. "It's more complicated than that, I think, but you have to trust me. I'm trying to help."

Clary looked long and hard into Jace's eyes. "How can I trust anything Valentine wants?"

"Because the alternative is too horrible," said Jace earnestly. "Please, Clary, I didn't want it this way."

"Want what?"

"I wanted us but not at your father's request," Jace said, his eyes flicking over her and coming back up to her face. "But this is the best way to guarantee you're safe."

"What about your safety?" Clary countered quickly.

"He won't kill me," said Jace, and he left out the unspoken because he likes me. "Please, Clary, let me take care of your for once." He reached out a hand and Clary glanced at it, torn terribly.

"I love you, Jace," she whispered, "I love you, but my father is using us."

"I'll let him if I can have you," Jace returned smartly. "Clary, don't do this."

Jace knew what Clary would do, and when she took his hand and let him pull her against his chest, he felt his heart inflate a little. He kissed the crown of her head and said softly, "I can make this work; I can make this better."

I can keep you safe.