So, I'm sorry this is pretty late, but I had some exams this week. Also, just as a forewarning, starting next week I'm going into finals, so the next few weeks might mess up my writing schedule. I hope not, but it could. Anyway, I hope you like it.

Chapter Nineteen

Aline

The carriage came trundling into view of Aline's house early in the afternoon, nondescript and inconspicuous, and she felt her heart skip a small beat. She had been up since the break of dawn, preparing herself for her day out with Clary and her mother. It wasn't that Aline was nervous of being around Clary, but she was acutely aware that her behavior, while in the company of Jocelyn Morgenstern, would be under careful scrutiny. She nervously ran a hand through her hair and glanced at herself in the mirror.

Stop this, she ordered herself. Stop this worrying. You know Jocelyn isn't going to care what you look like. She's just bringing you along to stop Valentine from hounding her daughter.

The carriage came to a stop, and Aline saw a figure emerge, tall and graceful, dressed in a lovely mauve sweater, a pair of fitted jeans, and high boots. It was Jocelyn, looking her usual composed self, and she glanced behind her, waving for another to follow. Clary's feet poked out from the carriage and she peeked down, judging the drop; Aline smiled when she saw Clary's dour look. Finally, she jumped down, landing awkwardly and cringed.

Is Clary hurt? Aline wondered, watching the small girl take another careful step. It's not very doubtful, I suppose, living with Valentine. The thought made Aline flinch, and she wondered what it was like, living with that man; to be constantly under his gaze. At least she gets a little reprieve.

Aline heard the sound of the door being knocked on and her mother's too-friendly voice. "Jocelyn, Clarissa, it's so nice to see you."

"The same to you Jai," Jocelyn said, and unlike Jai, she sounded calm and detached. Aline wished her mother could sound like that, so strong and sure and unbending. "Is your daughter ready?"

"Yes, Aline!" called Jai, and she sounded less than pleased. "Aline was so excited when she came home, telling me how pleased she was that you invited her. It's just such an honor, such a kind thing-"

"Nonsense," laughed Jocelyn, waving a hand. "My daughter needs someone her age to tell her how she looks. The Angel knows she doesn't believe me when I tell her."

Jai smiled around Jocelyn as Clary, who was standing, looking bored. "And are you excited for the celebration? Are you going with someone?"

Clary, who had been thinking that she wanted more than anything to be back at the house, than on a trip for a dress fitting, was surprised when Jai spoke to her. "Yes, yes, I think it will be fun."

"Who are you going with?" Jai asked again, a strained smile on her face.

"With Jace."

Jai's eyebrows raised up and she looked from Clary to Jocelyn. "With Jace? Jace Lightwood? He's a handsome one, isn't he?"

"Mom," Aline said, sounding horribly embarrassed. "Please, don't."

Jai winked at Jocelyn who smiled faintly. "Aline, you look lovely."

Aline glanced down at her outfit and shrugged; her mother had forced her into something nice and feminine especially for their outing. Clary, dressed in a fitted, rosy day dress, shot her a conspiratorial look. Aline knew how much Clary hated wearing dresses.

"I'm sure it'll be nothing to how Clary will look in her gown," Aline said politely.

"Best get to it, then," Jocelyn said. "Jai, Clary and I were thinking of stopping at a favorite café of mine after the dress shop so we'll make sure Aline gets a proper dinner."

"Thank you," said Jai in that annoying false voice Aline hated. "That's generous."

"Think nothing of it," Jocelyn said, motioning Clary and Aline from the house. "Girls, our carriage awaits."

As they left, Aline glanced back at her mother; she looked worried, tired, and, more than anything else, sad. Don't worry about me, Mom, I can handle myself, she thought, and hurried to keep step with Clary. Clary glanced at her when she saw Aline and smiled wanly; she certainly looked worn. At the carriage, Jocelyn pulled herself up without assistance of the groom, but Clary needed a hand up, and she flushed horribly.

"So, what color is your gown?" Aline asked after they had ridden in silence for a few minutes.

Clary had been looking out the window at the city beyond and didn't turn to face Aline. "Green."

"It'll look so nice with your hair and eyes," said Aline helpfully. "I'm sure Jace will like it."

For some reason, Clary paled at the mention of Jace, and Aline wondered what Valentine had done now. "He'd like me in anything, I'm sure."

"That's no reason to be lazy, Clary," chided Jocelyn, but her voice sounded tight too and Aline frowned. "Besides, when you dress nicely, it's not for you; it's a show of respect to the guests. It means you care enough about them to look your best."

"How silly of me," said Clary caustically. "I guess I'll just have to dress really horrible from now on."

Aline couldn't help herself, and she giggled. Jocelyn just smiled at her before turning a skeptical eye on her daughter. "I'll see if I can't find you a pair of pants."

After that, it seemed Clary didn't want to talk, and Aline got the feeling that she was furious about something. She tried to catch Clary's eye, but Clary seemed determined to look out the window, glowering at anyone they passed. Jocelyn also seemed concerned with paperwork, which she had removed from a bag she was carrying, and now pouring over it. From Aline's view, it looked like lists of shadowhunter names, and then scribbled beside them were names of other cities in other countries.

When they came to a stop, Aline saw that they were outside a sizeable shop, the front window decorated with models dressed in dresses, suits, and skirts. They clambered down from the carriage, Aline helping Clary out this time, and entered. A small woman came forward the moment they entered, and she bowed to Jocelyn.

"The dresses, I assume?" She eyed Clary's slight form nervously. "We'll have to work quick if we want them fitted and sown by the night of the celebration. Come in the back, then."

Aline followed Clary, who looked like she was being marched to her death, but turned and found Jocelyn was looking at another piece on the wall. "I'll wait out here. I want it to be a surprise for me and Jace and Valentine." When Aline paused, Jocelyn waved her away with a smile. "Go on, she'll trust your judgment better than mine anyway."

They followed the woman into the back of the shop where there were a few curtained off areas and patches of floors that were raised before many mirrors. The woman directed Clary to one in the corner and hurried off, muttering her name under her breath as she went in search of the gown. The moment she was out of earshot, Aline pounced.

"What's going on?"

Clary caught sight of herself in the mirror and turned away. "What do you mean?"

"What's wrong? Is someone hurt?" Aline pressed. "You looked so angry and sad, I thought Valentine had hurt someone."

"No one is hurt," sighed Clary, and then looked around the room once more. She caught sight of a white dress and flinched from it.

"Did someone die?" Aline asked, misunderstanding Clary's disgust with the color white. "Is Jace alright? Is it the Lightwoods?"

"No one is hurt," Clary repeated. "Stop worrying so much, it's nothing."

"Whatever it is," said Aline testily, "it's not nothing."

Clary's hands clenched and unclenched. "My father thinks he can't control me anymore, and he thinks the only way he can make me do what he wants is if he punishes Jace."

"This isn't exactly news," observed Aline. "Isn't that how he's been treating you since he brought you back to his house?"

"It's not that," Clary sighed. "He's decided it's not enough anymore, and that I'm not paying enough attention to the fact that Jace is hurt."

"Then what's the solution?" Aline watched Clary's eyes dart again to the dress on the wall. "He's not going to-to kill Jace, is he?"

"What?" Clary shot her a fast look. "No, of course not, he likes Jace. It's me who is the problem."

"Then what?" Aline asked, exasperated. "You keep looking so sad and dour and every time you turn away, it's always to stare at the white dress. What's gotten into you?"

"The white dress?" Clary asked, again looking to it. "Yes, well, it's rather ominous, don't you think?"

"Yes-of death," Aline said. "We wear white to mourn the dead, Clary."

A look of surprise came over Clary's face then, and she blinked once or twice, looking like a big, red owl. "Oh." Clary laughed loudly at the look in Aline's face. "You thought I meant Valentine was going to kill someone? He's not." Clary smiled down at her hands, but it was a bitter smile all the same. "Mundane women wear white when they get married."

"Married?" Aline asked blankly.

"Yes," sighed Clary. "Valentine wants Jace and I to get engaged at this big party we're having."

"He what?" Aline rasped. "How will getting engaged help him control you?"

"Because if Jace and I are engaged, we can go places together, be seen in public together, and he'll always be there like a-like a constant reminder or something. I don't know." Clary bit her lip. "I'm afraid that if we get married there will be no going back; even if we end all of this, Jace and I will be bound to each other."

"You don't want to be?"

Clary looked so uncertain. "Of course I love Jace, but being married to him is really…permanent. And besides, Valentine is right, how can I fight him if Jace is constantly in danger?"

"Maybe you can-"

"Here's the gown, sweetie," crowed the shop owner, appearing from the back room with a bundle of fabric that probably weighed more than Clary herself. "You're going to look so lovely in this. It's such a traditional piece, absolutely stunning."

Aline saw Clary's face pale and even she couldn't deny that it was far more fabric than she had expected. The older woman looked at Clary like she was luckiest girl in the world; she brandished the dress at Clary, her eyes sparkling.

"Let's get you out of that thing and into something beautiful."

Aline was sure that if Valentine hadn't been holding Jace and all Clary's friend's hostage, she would have put up a fight. But, since she didn't have the freedom, Clary allowed herself to be stripped down and forced into the gown, have the strings pulled so tight she gasped for air, and then allow the old woman to pin her hair up into a messy bun.

"You're gorgeous," breathed the woman.

Aline, who had been shafted to the side in the process of getting a stubborn Clary into the gown, now peeked up into the mirror. She had to agree with the old woman, Clary was gorgeous. The gown was very traditional, as the shop keeper put it, almost too traditional. It was a ball gown, a huge, bundle of moss green fabric that was knotted into roses at the pick-ups in the skirt. The bodice clung to Clary like a second skin, dropped down just past her waist, and dove very deep over her chest. A pattern of silver roses had been stitched into the bodice, blooming up her front like climbing vines. She breathed in deeply and her breasts rose invitingly, and Aline wondered that Valentine would let his daughter wear it at all.

There's no denying she's beautiful, far more beautiful than you ever gave her credit for. Aline frowned down at her palms. When she had met Clary, she had thought her very cute, but not much more. This Clary looked like a goddess, a grown woman, the type of woman Jace Lightwood would date. He's going to die when he sees her.

"You look amazing, Clary," Aline said, standing and joining her in the mirror. "Jace is going to freak when he sees you in this."

Clary looked at herself in the mirror. "It's not like he has a choice."

Luke

"It's been awhile, hasn't it, Lucian?"

Luke, who had fallen asleep on the bench beside Simon, jerked awake; Simon, too, seemed to come to himself and he glanced around. When he saw Valentine standing before them, looking mightily pleased about something, Luke felt a fresh wave of hate come over him. "Not long enough."

Valentine raised one eyebrow before looking over to Simon. "And how is the vampire?"

Simon opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out; he had gone far too long without any blood and it was draining him. When he didn't speak, Valentine sneered and Luke made a swiping gesture. "What do you want, Valentine? Tire of your own Clave already and come looking for some new friends?"

"I would be remiss if I didn't point out the Clave I am coming from is the left overs of the one you formed, Lucian. A poor one at that. It's taken so much more work than I thought it would to fix."

"Careful," said a soft, taunting voice. "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy…or in this case, his wife."

Valentine, who had been glorying in Luke's discomfort snapped about. Magnus was seated in the shadows of the cell, looking haggard and far worse for wear, but he was smirking. "And what do you mean by that, warlock?"

"You should know by now," Magnus shrugged. "I mean, isn't that half the reason you lost Jocelyn in the first place? Too busy with the work?"

Luke knew Magnus had touched a nerve, and he smiled at the warlock. "I would be careful if I were you, warlock."

"And why is that?" Magnus asked shrewdly. "Are you going to stick me in an even darker cell? I suppose you'd have to put some of your Clave members to digging a new prison at that point, wouldn't you?"

"I could always just kill you," pointed out Valentine.

"Ah, but then how would you keep those rascals the Lightwoods in line?" Magnus straightened his back. "I might look young, but I'm far older than you think, Valentine. You've kept me, Luke, and Simon alive because you need us to keep some of your more flighty shadowhunters in check. Must be such a pain."

"I've actually come to speak to you about that," Valentine said, and though his face was still ugly, he was smiling again, and Luke felt a leaf of nervousness unfurl in his stomach.

"Whenever you come to speak to anyone, it's bad news," Luke said.

"I have been told that Isabelle Lightwood has accepted the proposal of one of my follows," he said, letting the truth settled over them. Simon made a furious rasping noise that drew Valentine's eyes over to him. "Is there something you'd like to share?"

"I hardly see how it affects us," Luke said, keeping his voice even.

"It doesn't affect you at all," Valentine returned. "Or the warlock. However, my main use for Simon was making sure my daughter and her friend, Ms. Lightwood behaved; it seems, though, that I won't be needing Simon much longer, will I?"

"What are you saying?" Luke asked, carefully moving until he was sitting before Simon.

"I'm saying I might as well kill him now," Valentine said with relish. "I'm sure Clarissa will enjoy the sight of his head."

"Jocelyn won't," Luke said quickly. "She was quite fond of the boy, actually."

Valentine's smile fell away, but his eyes glinted. "Excuse me?"

"Jocelyn always liked Simon," Luke continued. "I would know, I practically lived with her. I saw Clary with Simon almost every day. Jocelyn thought very highly of him."

"She thought highly of him when he was human," Valentine said, but a hint of uncertainly had colored his voice.

"If that's what you really think, Valentine, then I suggest you tell Jocelyn what you're planning. Go no, see if she likes the idea. I'm sure Clary has already told her Simon is still here somewhere."

Valentine turned his searching gaze on Simon, sizing him up. "Death might be a release at this point."

"Maybe Simon should make that call," Magnus muttered darkly.

"I don't recall asking for your opinion warlock," Valentine shot at him.

"I don't recall inviting you into my cell," Magnus answered.

This seemed to push Valentine beyond himself, because he turned about, hand raised to strike. Magnus threw out his palm and a few green sparks flew out of the end. Though they were not enough to hurt him, Valentine stopped. Magnus may have been weak and not his usual self, but he still had some magic left, and more than enough to cause him problems.

"I would be careful if I were you, warlock," Valentine warned. "There are many of me and only one of you. Do well to remember that I spared you to keep your friend alive."

"I'm terrified," Magnus sniffed, and then slumped, apparently uninterested.

"Is there anything else you've come for?" Luke pressed. "Or is it just for the nice chat?"

"My daughter is getting engaged," Valentine said next, enjoying the shocked look on Simon and Luke's face.

"What?" Luke rasped. "She's sixteen! I can't believe Jocelyn is agreeing to this."

"Oh, yes," Valentine said with a smile. "She thinks it's a superb idea, having Clarissa married off; it will keep the girl out of our way, at least."

"To who?" Luke asked, though he thought he knew the answer.

"Who else?" Valentine asked impatiently. "Jace."

Simon, who had been thinking that Isabelle getting engaged was bad enough, was now in a state of shock over Clary. He wanted to say something, anything, to make Valentine understand how much he hated him, but it seemed there was no way to do either. His voice had failed him. He settled for looking furious.

"I know it's something of a surprise, but it's best the girl be placed somewhere, and I was running out of patience for her. Now at least, I know where and how she'll be at all times."

"And you'll have the ultimate hold over her," Luke growled. "That's why you're doing it, isn't it? Jace is going to be her responsibility to look after, isn't he? She'll have no choice but to protect him, and she'll have to sacrifice her own freedom for it."

"Jace proposed the idea," Valentine said smoothly.

"To stop you," Simon finally croaked, and his voice cracked after those words.

"To stop me from what?" Valentine smirked. "No, Jace is just being the man I raised him to be. Pity he has to marry my daughter."

"You're just using them. Both of them." Luke felt anger that he hadn't felt in a long time, years, since Valentine had told him to kill himself, consume him. Clary had been his daughter, the girl he looked after, cared for. Loved. He was supposed to be the man who would one day walk her down an aisle to the man she loved, and here was Valentine, spitting in his face. His hands shook as he thought of the future Clary had now.

She loves Jace, though, and he'll take care of her, he thought. But I'm sure they didn't picture it this way, and I'm sure Jace's proposal was more for Clary's safety than for anything else. Luke considered the situation before him. There's something else at work here. Jace is protecting Clary from something more than just her father's wrath.

Jace

"You're looking better, little brother," said Jonathan, watching Jace pouring over a book full of runes. Jace barely glanced up when Jonathan spoke so he grabbed the backs of the chair and tugged Jace away from the desk. "I believe I spoke to you, Jace."

"I believe I heard you," Jace ground out. He hadn't looked yet at Jonathan, and instead was staring at his lap. Don't look at him, don't acknowledge him, just ignore him. It was the firmest order Jace could give himself, but it was still soft, still weak. How could he order himself to leave his parabatai? "What do you want?"

"I just heard you were up and about, and I thought I'd come and see how you were faring." Jonathan noticed Jace wouldn't look at him, and he moved around the chair to bend down before him. "How's your back?"

Jace clamped his teeth down. "It's fine."

"Is it really?" asked Jonathan curiously. "I'm actually quite surprised; mine took months to stop hurting. Let me see."

"Go away, Jonathan," Jace said as evenly as he could. The last thing he wanted was Jonathan picking over his wounds.

"Let me see," Jonathan repeated, and before Jace could say anything more, Jonathan grabbed his shoulder, pulled Jace forward, and tugged his shirt up. Jace jerked a bit under his grip, but kept himself very still once Jonathan had his fingers under his shirt. He whistled under his breath. "Would you look at those; you've got yourself quite a collection here, don't you? Not such a perfect Angel boy anymore, are you?" Jace heard the relish in his voice.

"Perfect enough for your sister," he spat and Jonathan's fingernails scraped his back, catching one of the scabs from the lash marks. Jace gasped and fidgeted. Don't rise to him.

"Be careful, Jace," Jonathan hissed. "Being a member of this family could be very unfortunate if you push me."

"Because it's such a pleasure now," Jace said, finally looking up into Jonathan's face.

Jonathan's face was ugly. His eyes were dark and narrowed, his teeth bared in a silent snarl, and his hands had moved off Jace's back and were around his wrists like a vice. "Do you really think your life is so terrible now? Do you really think there is nothing I can't do to you to make you miserable?" When Jace didn't respond, Jonathan tightened his hold on Jace's wrist. "Answer me!"

Can't you feel it? Can't you see it? Jace thought, trying to tug his wrist out of the other boy's grasp. You're my parabatai, can't you tell what I'm feeling?

"Don't make me break your arm, Jace," Jonathan warned softly.

"What's wrong with you?" Jace finally snarled, and he pulled on his wrists, but Jonathan just held faster. "I'm your parabatai! We're supposed to be partners, warriors, brothers. Do you feel nothing?" Stop! Jace's mind cried, but the damage was done.

Jonathan was looking quite victorious, smirking at Jace's white face. "I'm touched, Jace, that you want to be my brother. I always thought you and I shared something in common…more than Clary, that is."

Jace's eyes snapped up to Jonathan and he recalled Clary's words. "What did you say?"

"I think you heard me," Jonathan said.

"You're sick," Jace said simply. "You're disgusting."

"I'm disgusting? What about that thing you were bound to before? He was in love with a warlock-"

"Yeah, well, you're panting after your sister," Jace hissed, feeling that surge of hate he felt whenever the Lightwoods were mentioned, but it was doubled now by the threat to Clary.

"You can blame yourself for that." Jonathan stood up then, dragging Jace up with him. "This bond of ours you mentioned, we share everything, including our emotions. Now, you love my sister, you want my sister, so it's reasonable to assume that I would feel that too."

"No," breathed Jace. This isn't my fault. "No, it's your demon blood that's doing this. You're perverting the bond and all the emotions with it."

"Believe what you will," said Jonathan, and he smiled suddenly. "This is your fault."

"Stop it," Jace hissed, and pulled harder and harder on his hands until Jonathan let them go. "Stop it!

"Don't like the truth?" Jonathan said sweetly, and then he looked down at the book Jace was reading. It was open to a page full of runes concerning marriage and love. "It'll only get worse once you two get married. By the Angel, I do look forward to that."

Jace had stumbled into a wall from the force of his own tugging, and was now looking at Jonathan with a mixture of confusion and repulsion. Suddenly, Jace was too tired for this. His back was still stinging, he was hungry, he hadn't seen Clary all day, and Valentine had said he wanted to speak with him later. It just seemed too much to have Jonathan constantly breathing down his neck. "Is there anything else?"

"I just came to see how you were, see what you were up to, locked up here all day…" His eyes roved back to Jace. "I find you pouring over runes. Getting ready for the big day?"

"Don't you have anything better to do with your time than bother me?" Jace asked harshly. "Can't you go away?"

"Not before I've had my say," Jonathan said, and he was watching Jace's eyes, watching Jace's face. "I won't let you have my sister all to yourself. If you're bound to me, and you marry her, it's almost like I have too."

"If you touch her-"

"I will," Jonathan said swiftly.

"I'll kill you," Jace finished.

"Then you'll kill yourself, because we are tied, you and I." Jonathan straightened up. "I'll win no matter what."

"This bond works both ways, Jonathan, just remember that." Jace pushed off from the wall and took a step toward Jonathan. "We'll how much you enjoy my life, and I don't think an empty, soulless thing like you can handle that."

Jace was pleased to see Jonathan's eyes darken at the prospect.