The Fiery Trial

There’s always something about true parabatai. They don’t need to speak to communicate. I saw the two of you having entire conversations without saying a word. It was like that with my parabatai Will. I never had to ask Will what he was thinking. In fact, it was usually better not to ask Will what he was thinking…” That got a smile from Magnus and Catarina both.

I’m not going to kiss you,” Simon said. “Ever.” “I’ve never heard anyone say that before,” Jace mused. “It was a unique experience.

At the Accords Hall, Jace was waiting for them on the front step, looking like Jace in a suit. Jace in a suit was unbearable. He gave Clary a look up and down. “That dress is . . .” He had to clear his throat. Simon enjoyed his discomfiture. Not much ever threw Jace, but Clary had always been able to throw him like a Wiffle ball on a windy day. His eyes were practically cartoon hearts.

So you’re going in?” Jace looked at the water and cringed. “Even I’d think twice about that. And I’m amazing.” “Why do you have to get involved in everything?” Simon asked. “I go where Clary goes.

How did you know?” Simon asked. “It’s not that hard to see,” Magnus replied, and finally some of the usual levity was in his voice. “I’m also literally magic.

Why send a letter when you can send something truly magnificent?

Simon had only had a few encounters with Jem Carstairs, who was apparently as old as his wife, Tessa Gray. They both looked amazingly fit for 150 years. Tessa even looked pretty hot. (Maybe Jem looked hot too? As Simon had thought once before, he probably wasn’t the greatest judge of male attractiveness.) Was it weird to think people who were twice as old as your grandparents were good-looking?

It was nice, Simon thought, in the midst of all the terrible things that could happen and sometimes did happen, there was always this. There was a lot of love.

Simon gave Clary a look that was supposed to mean: This is weird. She responded with a very clear look of response that said: Superweird.

There was sadness in his eyes, a sadness so profound it was almost frightening.

The moon was wide—too wide and too close. Mentally, Simon told the moon to stop being so close and bright and that it should just generally shut up with the mooniness.

It was pizza. Someone had stir-fried a pizza.

And sitting around the table on the fine-quality chairs and sofas were Magnus Bane, Jem Carstairs, Catarina Loss, and Clary,

Jem looked at ease in a white sweater and dark jeans. His black hair had a single, dramatic streak of silver in it that stood out against his brown skin.

turned to Simon with a wink. “Why send a letter when you can send something truly magnificent?