Also by Cassandra Clare

Cristina sat on the floor outside Mark Blackthorn’s bedroom.
There had been no sound from inside for what felt like hours. The door was cracked open and she
could see him, curled into a ball in a corner of the room like a trapped wild animal.
Faeries had been her area of study at home. She had always been fascinated by tales of the hadas,
from the noble warriors of the Courts to the duendes who teased and bothered mundanes. She had not
been in Idris for the declaration of the Cold Peace, but her father had, and the story sent a shiver
through her. She had always wanted to meet Mark and Helen Blackthorn, to tell them—
Tiberius appeared in the hall, carrying a cardboard box. His twin sister was beside him, a
patchwork quilt in her hand. “My mother made this for Mark when he was left with us,” she said,
catching Cristina eyeing it. “I thought he might remember.”
“We couldn’t get into the storeroom, so we brought Mark some gifts. So he’d know we want him
here,” said Ty. His gaze moved restlessly around the hall. “Can we go in?”
Cristina glanced into the bedroom. Mark was unmoving. “I don’t see why not. Just try to be quiet
and not wake him.”
Livvy went in first, laying the quilt on the bed. Ty set the cardboard box on the floor, then wandered
over to where Mark was lying. He picked up the quilt that Livvy had set down and knelt beside his
brother. A little awkwardly, he laid the quilt on top of Mark.
Mark jerked upright. His blue-gold eyes flew open and he caught hold of Ty, who gave a sharp
frightened cry like the cry of a seabird. Mark moved with incredible speed, flinging Ty to the ground.
Livvy screamed and darted from the room, just as Cristina hurtled inside.
Mark was kneeling over Tiberius, pinning him to the ground with his knees. “Who are you?” Mark
was saying. “What were you doing?”
“I’m your brother! I’m Tiberius!” Ty was wriggling madly, his headphones sliding off to hit the
floor. “I was giving you a blanket!”
“Liar!” Mark was breathing hard. “My brother Ty is a little boy! He’s a child, my baby brother, my
—”
The door rattled behind Cristina. Livvy burst back into the room, her brown hair flying. “Let him
go!” A seraph blade appeared in her hand, already beginning to glow. She spoke to Mark through
gritted teeth, as if she’d never met him. As if she hadn’t been carrying a patchwork quilt for him