Hello everyone! Sorry this came out so late, but Christmas break and work really slowed my writing up. I'm hoping to stay on track now that the holidays are over and update my other fan fictions accordingly. Hope you enjoy the new chapter and happy New Years!

Chapter Twenty Two

Clary

"Faster, Clarissa, faster," ordered Valentine sharply, watching his daughter spin around with a knife in her hands. His voice broke through her concentration, though, and she stumbled out of the turn. The knife slipped from her fingers and bounced along the ground, skidding to a halt before Valentine's feet. He looked up at her slowly, one eyebrow raised. "Not quite, Clarissa."

"You distracted me," she said, carefully keeping her voice even. Later that day, Aline would be coming over, and she needed to check in on her and the Lightwoods; angering Valentine was the easiest way to have her painting privileges taken away.

"If you find my voice distracting, I don't know how you plan to make a shadowhunter." Valentine bent and scooped the knife up. In his hand, it blazed with white fire. "In the real world, when you are moments away from death, when your every move must be precise and planned, when a wrong step could cost you your life, there is no time for distractions."

"I know that," Clary said, watching him carefully turn to the blade in his hands.

"Do you?" he asked softly. "I find it hard to believe you know anything, Clarissa, because if you did, you would keep your mouth shut. I am trying to educate you, and it seems all you're concerned about is justifying your failures."

Oh, just leave me alone, Clary thought, her eyes never leaving the knife he was holding. Just shut up and let me practice.

"Jace has asked me before to allow him to train you, but how can I even entertain the idea when you prove so useless with me? I have no doubt that Jace will coddle you." Valentine prowled toward her and he smiled slowly. "When I raised Jace, I gave him nothing. He was made to earn it all."

"I know that," Clary said through clenched teeth.

"Do you really?" Valentine laughed. "I think you have some delusions about Jace's upbringing."

I know you treated him horribly and abused him emotionally and physically. "He was trained to be a soldier."

"Do you know what that entails?" asked Valentine next, and now he stood before Clary, towering over her.

"No," admitted Clary, and she felt her heart sink. Valentine was holding the knife now by the handle, pointed toward her.

"It is difficult to make a child into a warrior. It takes much time and pain and determination, and I while I am more than happy to oblige you in the way of time and pain, I do not think you have the necessary determination to make a soldier."

"I do-" began Clary, but Valentine raised a hand.

"You're a poor liar, Clarissa." Like a whip, his hand snapped out and closed around Clary's small wrist. He tugged her forward and she fell into him. "Ruined by your upbringing. I would never blame your mother, no doubt she wanted to raise you like a shadowhunter. I think you were too weak; I think she knew you would never be the shadowhunter she was."

Then why even bother with me? Why not just send me away? "I am gifted with runes," Clary said quickly.

"That was my doing, and it served no purpose," said Valentine distractedly. "It was a wasted gift. Now what can I do with you?"

Clary's wrist was starting to hurt and she tried to relax her arm so it wouldn't be quite as painful. "Just make me master runes?"

"A charming idea," said Valentine with his usual sharp grin, "but I think not. You will train as a proper shadowhunter, and you will be the best you can, however pathetic that is. Now, you're going to put all your weapons away and go to the tack room in the stables. I will meet you there."

Can't you just call me awful names and send me to me room? Clary rubbed her wrist. "Alright."

"Alright, sir," corrected Valentine with slight annoyance. "You call me sir or father."

"Alright, father," Clary growled, refusing to demean herself.

She turned on her heel before he could correct her tone of voice and made for the tack room where she cleaned off her knives and placed them in the wooden crate Valentine kept all her practicing gear in. She wasn't allowed to keep any in her room; he would take the crate when they were done. Feeling sore and anxious, she went to the small sink in the room, turned the tap on, and washed her hands and face with cold water. As she rubbed her hands dry, and caught sight of the Morgenstern ring, refitted to her finger, and it winked back at her in the pale light.

You're engaged. You've been engaged for three days now. You've been engaged for three days to Jace. She pictured his face for just a moment and wished reverently that he were with her now. At least he's safe with my mother.

It was true that Jocelyn had gone into Alicante that day, and, at Valentine's suggestion, taken Jace with her. They were probably going to spend the day visiting all the shops in the city proper, the monstrous library in the city, and eating all sorts of sweets. Part of Clary was horribly jealous that Jace got to spend that time with her mother, but another part of her was grateful because it took him out of harm's way. Valentine had made clear that even though they were now engaged, Jace could still be hurt if Clary misbehaved, and Clary would still be punished if Jace pushed him too far. At the moment, Clary didn't trust her temper.

"That ring has been in my family for generations." Valentine had arrived and was now smirking at her, cornered as she was in the tack room. Clary also didn't miss the use of the term my family. "Part of me was quite against Jace giving it to you, but, it seems there was no other option."

"He could have given me a ring from his family," Clary pointed out blankly.

"His family?" Valentine chuckled. "He has no family. His father died before he was born and his mother killed herself while he was still in the womb. I was the one who cut him from her corpse, and I was the one who raised him. The family Jace would have belonged to died with his father."

"And yet you won't let him claim the name Morgenstern," observed Clary coldly.

"He has no right to that name either," Valentine answered.

"Why won't you tell him who he is?" Clary demanded, feeling furious for Jace. "You know he wants to know, but you just wield it over him like some cruel joke."

"Jace shouldn't concern himself with that name. The family was weak, undeserving; he's better off as he is now."

"I think Jace would disagree with you," Clary said sharply. "I think you're just being cruel to him because-"

"Because he loves you?" Valentine smirked. "It's true that his love for you does annoy me. I think he could do better, but your mother wants him, and I would give her whatever she wants."

Though she hated him, though he had ruined her life in so many different ways, it still stung Clary that her father could be so repulsed by her. She had always been told that parents love their children, and that no matter how estranged they were, there would always be that connection shared between parents. Now, looking into the eyes of her father, Clary knew better. He didn't love her, didn't care for her, he didn't balk at hurting her; he felt nothing for her.

You're just angry at my mother, you hate her for leaving you, but you can't accept that. You hate me because she left you. Clary bit her lip, watching her father carefully unbuttoning his shirt cuffs and rolling up his sleeves, and Clary had a fleeting horrible thought that she hated her mother. It was all her fault Valentine was treating her this way. No, it's not my mom's fault; it's Valentine's fault, it's him.

"It is regrettable," Valentine was saying, looking at the table running along the length of the room, picking through the many instruments there, "that you mother loves you so much. I wanted for her to forget you, that way, I could have sent you away. You don't belong in this family."

But you can't have my mother mad, can you? Clary saw him pluck up a small chisel used to clean a horse's hooves. He considered it a moment and put it down. "Pity about that."

"It is," agreed Valentine. "The best I could do was marry you off to Jace. At least it ensures that your mother can keep Jace." He strolled down the length of table, stilling searching. "It's so irritating that I have to train you, that I have to make some sort of shadowhunter out of you; you're never going to be anything besides a disgrace to this family."

"Then send me and Jace away," said Clary sulkily.

"I think not." Valentine turned about and in his hand was a small hammer used to shoe a horse. He held it up to her and gestured for her to join him at the table. "It is my punishment, I think, for all the suffering I caused to the shadowhunters, that I have you. The Angel is trying to teach me a lesson with you. The very sight of you disgusts me, but I must learn to tolerate you. I must learn acceptance."

Acceptance? Clary thought, as he took her wrists and place her hands flat on the work bench. What are you leaning to accept? Your own daughter?

"If I can learn to accept your flaws, and do my best to mend them, I will be rewarded. Now, I would ask you not to scream, but it won't matter if you do. There's no one here to help you."

Clary swallowed. Oh, mom… Valentine lifted the hammer up and brought it down on her delicate, painters' hands.

Jocelyn

As it had been before, Jocelyn found that spending time with Jace was enjoyable. She was getting more accustomed to having a handsome son around her, but she still felt, even a month later, that Jace was an exotic commodity. He was so different from Clary in the way he walked, the way he spoke, even the way he breathed. She noticed that at first, Jace seemed uncomfortable around her. He spoke stiltedly, choosing his words carefully and always watching her. He seemed almost nervous, and Jocelyn saw the stiffness in his shoulders and the straightness of his back. After a few minutes, Jocelyn, unable to help herself, drew alongside Jace and ran a hand through his hair. Jace shuddered under her touch.

Is this Valentine's fault? Jocelyn wondered as Jace looked away uncertainly. It was clear that he wasn't used to being cared for, but Jocelyn didn't think it was Maryse's lack of affection. You didn't have an easy childhood, did you?

Jocelyn smiled faintly at Jace when he glanced her way. "Do you like to read, Jace? There's a nice bookshop one street over." He opened his mouth to speak and then shut it, looking a little confused. "Jace, you and my daughter are engaged, I want you to be happy. Now, tell me what you want to do."

Jace shrugged. "I could use a new copy of Paradise Lost."

"Then we'll get that," said Jocelyn decidedly, and steered Jace in the direction of the shop. "You've read it before?"

"Valentine made me almost ten-" Jace cut off and looked away before he said anything more. Jocelyn didn't love Valentine, but Jace didn't want her angry on his behalf. "I read it when I was a boy."

Jocelyn's eyes widened. "Would you prefer something else?"

"No, no that's fine…"

Suddenly, Jocelyn took Jace's arm in a strong grip and pulled him to a stop. He turned about to look at her, looking politely confused. "I was so terrified, Jace, that I couldn't protect Clary; Valentine was going to kill her, he was going to find a way. You saved her, Jace, and there is no way I can ever forget that. I will do whatever it takes to make this up to you. Now, tell me what you want."

Jace blinked slowly. "I just want Clary."

Of course you do, you sweet, thoughtless boy. Jocelyn shook her head and then let her grip on him go. She turned back to the street and took off again. "Has Valentine said anything to you recently?"

Jace bit his lip. "Not really. He just told me that she is my responsibility now and I have to make sure her studies go better."

"And did he say anything to her?"

"Nothing new." Jace frowned prominently. "He's told her he has Simon, too, so she'll have to be on her best behavior."

Jocelyn flinched internally, thinking of the little boy with the glasses she had known so long. "Has he hurt either of you?"

"Not me," said Jace darkly. "He keeps telling me that I'm not having the desired effect on Clary, and he told me to take her in hand." Jace looked disgusted at the idea.

"I don't know if you'll have a choice soon," said Jocelyn miserably. "He's expecting her to shape up, and he's expecting you to do it. If you don't rein Clary in, he'll have to."

Jace paled a little and looked down at his hands. Jocelyn knew he was thinking of Clary, even now, alone in the company of Valentine. She didn't want to pressure Jace, she didn't want to scare him, but Jocelyn was coming to realize that her ability to protect Clary was dwarfed by Jace's. Jace had more freedom to flout Valentine, and was only concerned with Clary's wellbeing.

"Do you really think I can make Clary do anything?" Jace asked sarcastically as they approached the book shop, but Jocelyn gave him a forlorn look and he sighed. "She's just as determined to protect me as I am to protect her. Whenever I try to convince her that I'm not in any danger, she just goes on about the time Valentine whipped me."

Jocelyn paled as she recalled how torn and tattered his back had been. "I don't know how best to make her believe that you're not in danger."

"It's not making her believe I'm not in danger," said Jace bitterly, opening the door for Jocelyn. "It's convincing her that she's more important than I am."

They entered the book shop and Jocelyn immediately dropped the discussion. She instead smiled brilliantly at Jace and said, "I know you wanted Paradise Lost but what about something a bit more fun? Maybe an adventure story?"

Jace raised one eyebrow as the shop keeper, a small, stooped man came out. "Mrs. Morgenstern, what a pleasure." His eyes flicked to Jace, and he recognized him after a moment. "And the future son-in-law, how pleasant."

Jocelyn favored the older man with flash of white teeth. "Good day. I've come in for a few good books, and, while Jace swears he wants only Paradise Lost, I think he would enjoy something a bit more modern. Can you help?"

The store keeper brightened; he was clearly a lover of books. "I just unearthed a few crates of books brought in from the Mundane world. Maybe you'd prefer something along those lines?"

Jace smiled congenially. "Very much so."

As Jace followed the store keeper, Jocelyn hung back, admiring the many books packed tightly onto shelves. She strolled along the aisles, pausing here and there over different titles, picking up a novel now and then. Jocelyn had missed Alicante, that much was true. She remembered dreaming of this city while she'd been living in New York: the beautiful, winding streets, the quaint shop fronts, the canals, the people, the food and the books. Being back was like waking up from a nightmare and finding herself tucked safely in a warm bed.

Not quite…thought Jocelyn, and she came to a pause before a small section of books for toddlers. There were wide, flat books with pictures of little shadowhunter children playing with wooden swords, of ugly little fairies, or furry werewolves, and great big runes. She ran her hand over one of the books, wondering where they had been when she had been pregnant with Jonathan and Clary. Was it really so easy to teach a child what it was to be a shadowhunter?

By the Angel, I hope I'm not pregnant. Please, don't let me be pregnant, Jocelyn thought frantically. If she was pregnant, Valentine would get rid of Clary faster than she could blink. He can't kill her now that Jace has taken her on, but he's not going to let her carry on the way she is now.

Unconsciously, Jocelyn's hand moved to her belly, and she wondered again if she was with child. "Please, no."

"Jocelyn." Jace was coming back, holding a few books in his hand. He was looking at her with that powerful searching gaze and she dropped her eyes guiltily. "What are you doing?"

"Thinking," she said after a moment. Jace peered closer and saw the section she was in; his face paled markedly and Jocelyn's eyes grew wider, more urgent. She said quickly, "What books did you choose?"

Jace was still staring at her with those accusatory eyes. "I haven't read Hemmingway before. The Sun Also Rises and For Whom the Bell Tolls. Have you heard of them?"

Jocelyn blinked. "Y-yes. But those are very Mundane books, about some war they fought."

Jace raised one eyebrow and then glanced down at the books in his hands. He didn't know much of Mundane history but the books seemed harmless. "Well, then I guess I'll learn something. Since I'm not learning anything else…" Jocelyn smiled sadly, and her heart went out to the boy.

Jace had been raised a shadowhunter, a warrior, he had been trained for constant action. His life now, reduced to keeping her entertained and waiting on Valentine, was wearing on him fast. He longed for training again, for fighting, and that exhilaration that came with holding a stele. Jocelyn had been trying to think up a way to convince Valentine to allow Jace to practice again, but her husband seemed adamant that he would remain a servant.

"I've been trying to sell Valentine on the idea of having you help train Clary, but I think he fears you distracting her if you're together. My daughter does have a nasty habit of losing focus when you're around." Jocelyn winked at the store keeper who took the books Jace had chosen a placed them carefully into a paper bag. Jocelyn handed him some bills absently. "Maybe if she shows drastic improvement, he'll be amendable to the idea."

Jace rolled his eyes. "Valentine is amendable to nothing."

They paid for the books and left the store, turning now for a small bakery down the lane. Again, Jace seemed stiff and silent, though his manner was far less uncomfortable. When they entered the bakery, Jocelyn consulted him on the many pastries and cakes, and he placed the box of purchased sweets on top of his books and carried them to the next store: a leather works. Jocelyn had an order of new belts, holsters, and sheaths for weapons. Jace took these too and piled them on his load. From there they visited a small shop that sold all kinds of tea, where Jocelyn urged Jace to pick his favorites, as well as a few of her own. After that, Jocelyn slipped quickly into an apothecary, returning with a small package she pocketed. Her face was slightly flushed when Jace's keen eyes caught sight of the small bag.

"If I am…okay, I want to make sure I don't actually get ill. I'm just taking some extra precautions."

Jace's eyes widened. "I bet Valentine won't be pleased if hears about that. He wants to have children."

"Which is why I won't tell him," said Jocelyn airily, setting off now toward the street they'd started on where the carriage was waiting. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"If you actually are, well, unwell, couldn't you do your damage?" asked Jace from behind their stack of purchases?

Jocelyn's face paled a shade. "Well, if I am in a delicate condition, I'm not going to stay that way. I have every intention of seeing a midwife, or even Magnus if I can manage it, and stopping this nonsense before it starts. This family is no place for a baby."

Jace

Maneuvering the many packages Jace was carrying was not easy, and when he stumbled through the front doors of the house, the bags of tea they had purchased fell to the ground in heaps. Jace stared at them, willing them to jump back up onto the pile in his arms, but they remained on the ground.

"Why can't I have nice things?" Jace asked aloud, but carefully sank down and scooped them up. He passed into the kitchen, separated the food from the leather, and then took his books out and flipped absently through the pages, wondering who Hemmingway was and what he had written. He came slowly into the sitting room, his nose in his book, and was almost to the window embrasure before he looked up and saw he was not alone.

"Clary?" he asked blankly.

She was sitting on the edge of the small sofa, her back oddly straight and her eyes staring forward. When Jace spoke, she blinked slowly but didn't speak. He came to her side quickly, dropping down onto his knees. She angled a look at him, and he saw her eyes were glassy and red; he took her chin and turned her face toward him. She shuddered and he ran his hands through her hair, trying to coax her out of her silence.

"Clary, what happened? You're cold and your face is so white; give me your hands…" Jace's voice trailed off as he tried to pick her hands up, but a small gasp escaped her and he glanced down. "Your hands…" he repeated.

Her fingers were mangled, the bones bent and twisted in awkward angles. There were great purple bruises and angry red welts. Her nails were cracked and flaky. She couldn't close her hand into a fist. Jace turned the palms up to him and saw a bone, clearly disjointed, pressing against the flesh on the inside of her palm.

"What did he do?" Jace hissed, holding her wrists against his chest. "Clary, tell me."

"I kept dropping my knife in training," said Clary absently, looking at her hands as if they weren't attached to her arms. "Valentine was irritated that I couldn't hold it."

"Look what he did to your hands!" Jace snarled under his breath and he drew her against him. Why did I go away? Why did I leave her with Valentine? He pressed his forehead against hers and gently, very gently, kissed her. "I'm so sorry, Clary. I'm so sorry."

"It was my fault," she said in surprise. "I was the one who couldn't hold the knife. It was me, and when he said-"

"No, Clary, this is not you." Jace felt around his pockets absently for a stele, and when he didn't find one, glanced around the room. "Is there a stele anywhere in your room?"

"No," whispered Clary, finally turning her eyes down on the wreckage that was her hands. "No, Valentine said I had to take care of it myself…"

"Well, that's wrong." Jace held up her hand, the one with the ring on it, and he brushed a kiss over her finger. "I swore to marry you, protect you, take care of you. Our lives are intertwined now, anything that happens to you, invariably happens to me." Clary bit her lip and Jace could tell she was holding something back. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Jace," Clary looked at him with big, sad eyes. "Jace, Valentine could hurt you."

"I don't care," said Jace sharply, standing up suddenly and looking about. "I'm going to find a stele and fix your hands, then I'll find Valentine and I'll-"

"Why don't we kill two birds with one stone?"

Clary jerked back, her hands curling up against her chest, and Jace snapped about. Valentine was standing before them in the door, a stele in his hand. He smiled gracefully when they both looked up at him, and his eye stroked Jace and Clary, glimmering. Jace felt himself draw back so that he was standing directly before Clary. Valentine noticed but he made no comment.

"What have you done?" Jace said, just barely keeping the anger from his voice. "What have you done to her?"

"What you should have," answered Valentine smoothly. When Jace balked, Valentine smirked and pointed to the chair behind him. "Sit down, Jace."

"No," Jace said evenly, "I'd rather not."

Now, Valentine's eyes glinted. SIT DOWN. The command shook through Jace and his legs started to buckle; he tried to fight it, thinking of all the pain and terror Clary must have felt while her father broke her hands. SIT DOWN! This time, Jace's entire body flinched and he fell back into the chair beside Clary. She tried to hold him weakly, but her hands only managed to swipe at him.

"Now, as I was saying, I have done only what you promised me you would do, Jace," began Valentine, coming into the room and pausing before the side table where a decanter of bourbon was sitting. He poured himself a glass and sipped it, his eyes still boring into Jace. "You said, as I recall, that you were going to temper my daughter, you were going to rein her in, you were going to control her. Have you done that? No."

"I didn't say-"

"She has been running wild, failing in her studies , and she has quite a tongue in that mouth of hers." Valentine's eyes moved to her and she flushed before looking away. "You should have heard the things she said; going on about how horrible I was to her and you. You don't think I'm horrible to you, do you?"

No, not at all. You've only murdered my real parents, imprisoned my adoptive parents, cut me and my parabatai, and forced my sister to marry some disgusting traitor. Aside from that you've been wonderful. "I think you treat Clary very unfairly."

"I think she is an ungrateful little brat and I think you can't control her. Since that is the case, I find I must." Valentine flicked the stele at him. "Or, would you prefer to take her in hand?" Jace blanched at the idea and shook his head mutely. Valentine turned now on Clary, and he spun the blade about. "What about you, Clary? Since someone has to punish you, would you prefer me or Jace?"

Please don't, Clary, please don't, Jace thought nervously as her eyes skipped from face to face. Don't make me.

"Why are you doing this?" Clary asked finally.

"Why?" Valentine chuckled. "You're a Morgenstern and you act like a filthy Downworlder. Someone is going to have to teach you how to comport yourself, and I guess it will be me."

"I told you I can handle her," said Jace quickly, and he drew Clary against him. "Give me the stele and I can make her do almost anything." Clary's eyes snapped over to him and he gave her a meaningful look. Please just be quiet, Clary, please. "Give me the stele."

Valentine looked genuinely curious, and he studied Jace, always spinning the stele in his hand, but looking him over with great interest. After a moment, Valentine gave Jace the stele, handle first. "Put on a show, Jace."

"Of course," said Jace easily, hiding any nervousness. He turned to Clary and kissed the crown of her hair. "Turn around, Clary, and show me your back."

Shaking, Clary allowed Jace to turn her and pull the shoulder of the sleeve down. He laid his palm on her spine to stop her shivering, and carefully traced a rune on her back. Clary made a small whining noise, and Valentine's eyes narrowed, but after a few seconds, Clary sighed in relief and Jace knew the rune was working.

"What has this done?" Valentine asked with a bored look.

"Clary," Jace murmured, kissing her hair again and turning her so that she was facing him only. "Go upstairs and clean off before Aline gets here. I'll take care of Valentine." When Clary opened her mouth to argue, Jace pressed a finger to her lips. "Go upstairs and down worry about me. Just go." Clary blinked back tears, and wiped one away with her perfectly healed hand. "Get out your rune work and translations as well, and I'll look at it while you paint. We can go over it tonight after dinner."

Clary glanced at her father, but it was Jace who looked truly worried. He gave her a gentle push and she stood unsteadily. Valentine watched her like a hawk, but she nodded her head simply and hurried from the room without looking at her father. After she had gone, Jace turned a sneering look on Valentine who was watching, just slightly amused.

"I told you I could handle her."