Also by Cassandra Clare

you don’t love them, or that you are someone they cannot respect.
Julian was breathing hard. But his eyes, locked on hers, were steady. “I know you,” he said. “I
know you, Emma, and you’re lying. You’re trying to do what you think is right. Trying to push me
away to protect me.”
No, she thought desperately. Don’t give me the benefit of the doubt, Julian. This has to work. It
has to.
“Please don’t,” she said. “You were right—you and I don’t make sense—Mark and I would make
sense—”
Hurt bloomed across his face like a wound. Mark, she thought. Mark’s name was like the sly elfbolt
he wore, able to pierce Julian’s armor.
Close, she thought. I’m so close. He almost believes.
But Julian was an expert liar. And expert liars could see lies when other people told them.
“You’re trying to protect the kids, too,” he said. “Do you understand, Emma? I know what you’re
doing, and I love you for it. I love you.”
“Oh, Jules,” she said, in despair. “Don’t you see? You’re talking about us being together by running
away, and I just came from Rook’s. I saw Kit and what it means to live in hiding, the cost of it, not
just for us, but what if we had kids someday? And we’d have to give up being what we are. I’d have
to give up being a Shadowhunter. And it would kill me, Jules. It would just rip me apart.”
“Then we’ll figure out something else,” he said. His voice sounded like sandpaper. “Something
where we’ll still be Shadowhunters. We’ll figure it out together.”
“We won’t,” she whispered. But his eyes were wide, imploring her to change her mind, to change
her words, to put what was breaking back together.
“Emma,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I will never, never give up on you.”
It was a strange irony, she thought, a terrible irony that because she loved him so much and knew
him so well, she knew exactly what she had to do to destroy everything he felt for her, in a single
blow.
She pulled away from him and started back toward the house. “Yes,” she said. “You will.”
Emma didn’t know quite how long she’d been sitting on her bed. The house was full of noises—she’d
heard Arthur shouting something when she first came back inside, and then quiet. Kit had been put in
one of the spare rooms, as he’d asked, and Ty was sitting outside of it, reading a book. She’d asked
him what he was doing—guarding Kit? Guarding the Institute from Kit?—but he’d just shrugged.
Livvy was in the training room with Dru. Emma could hear their muffled voices through the floor.
She wanted Cristina. She wanted the one other person who knew how she felt about Julian, so she
could cry in Cristina’s arms and Cristina could tell her things were going to be all right, and that she
was doing the right thing.
Though whether Cristina would ever really think that what she was doing was right, Emma wasn’t
sure.
But she knew in her heart it was necessary.
She heard the click of the doorknob turning and closed her eyes. She couldn’t stop seeing Julian’s
face as she’d turned away from him.
Jules, she thought. If only you didn’t believe in me, this wouldn’t be necessary.
“Emma?” Mark’s voice. He hovered in the doorway, very human-looking in a white henley shirt
and jeans. “I just got your message. You wanted to talk?”
Emma stood up and smoothed down the dress she’d changed into. A pretty one, with yellow