”And you won’t leave me?” ”No,” Alec said. ”No, we won’t ever leave you. You know that.” ”Never.” Isabelle took his hand, the one Alec wasn’t holding, and pressed it fiercely.
”Lightwoods, all together,” she whispered. Jace’s hand was suddenly damp where she was holding it, and he realized she was crying, her tears splashing down —crying for him, because she loved him; even after everything that had happened, she still loved him. They both did. He fell asleep like that, with Isabelle on one side of him and Alec on the other, as the sun came up with the dawn.
When I was nine my father gave me a falcon. He told me to make it obedient. I was supposed to keep the bird blind, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead, I touched and stroked its wings until it trusted me. I tamed it to perfection. I took it to my father, expecting him to be proud of what I’d done.
“I did not make a pie for three reasons. One, because I do not have any pie ingredients. Two, because I don’t actually know how to make a pie.” He paused, clearly waiting. Removing his sword and leaning it against the cave wall, Jace said warily, “And three?” “Because I am not your bitch,” Alec said, clearly pleased with himself.
— Werewolves aren’t demons. We have a truce with Downworlders. — Downworlders? What is that, like people below 14th street? — Well, Downworlders pretty much sums everything up. Vampires, werewolves, warlocks. — Warlocks. Cool.
“And then she said nothing else, for Henry put his arms around her and kissed her. Kissed her in such a way that she no longer felt plain, or conscious of her hair or the ink spot on her dress or anything but Henry, whom she had always loved. Tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks, and when he drew away, he touched her wet face wonderingly.
“Really,” he said. “You love me, too, Lottie?” [6/7]