“He didn’t know anything about faeries. Nobody grows bitter of tongue? Ha!” Kieran swallowed the raspberries and slid off the windowsill. “Where do we journey now?”
“I was going to the library,” said Mark. “There’s a sort of—meeting—about what we’re going to do next.”
“Then I would like to go to it,” said Kieran.
Mark’s mind raced. Was there any reason Kieran shouldn’t come? As far as Magnus and Alec knew, his relationship with Kieran was whatever he said it was. Nor was it any good for Kieran, or for their strained relationship, for the faerie prince to spend all his time in a small room, hating seminal Irish poets.
“Well,” Mark said. “If you’re sure.”
When they walked into the library, Magnus was examining the aletheia crystal while the others tried to fill him in on what had been going on before he’d arrived. The warlock was lying full-length on one of the tables, holding the crystal delicately above him.
Cristina, Ty, Livvy, and Dru were seated around the long library table. Alec was sitting on the floor of the room with three children clustered around him: his own two boys, and Tavvy, who was delighted to have someone to play with. The seven-year-old was explaining to Max and Rafe how he made towns and cities out of books, showing them how you could make tunnels with books splayed open on their faces for trains to go through.
Magnus gestured Mark over to look into the aletheia crystal, which was glowing with an odd light. The sounds in the room around him faded as Mark watched the trial, saw Annabel beg and protest, saw the Blackthorns doom her to her fate.
He felt chilled all over when he finally looked away. It took several moments for the library to come back into focus. To Mark’s surprise, Kieran had picked up Max and was holding him in the air, obviously delighted by his blue skin and the buds of his horns.
Max stuck his hand into Kieran’s wavy hair and pulled. Kieran just laughed. “That’s right, it changes color, little nixie-like warlock,” he said. “Look.” And his hair went from blue-black to bright blue in an instant. Max giggled.
“I didn’t know you could do that on purpose,” said Mark, who had always thought of Kieran’s hair as a reflection of his moods, uncontrollable as the tides.
“You don’t know a lot of things about me, Mark Blackthorn,” Kieran said, setting Max down.
Alec and Magnus had exchanged a look at that, the sort of look that made Mark feel as if they had reached a silent and agreed-upon consensus about his relationship with Kieran.
“So,” Magnus said, looking at Kieran with some interest. “You’re the son of the Unseelie King?”
Kieran had what Mark thought of as his Court face on, blank and superior as befitted a prince. “And you are the warlock Magnus Bane.”
“Quite,” Magnus said. “Although that was an easy guess, since there’s one of me and fifty of you.”
Ty looked puzzled.
“Fifty sons of the Unseelie King,” explained Livvy. “I think that was a joke.”
“Not one of my best,” said Magnus to Kieran. “I apologize—I’m not a big fan of your father.”
“My father does not have fans.” Kieran leaned against the edge of the table. “He has subjects. And enemies.”
“And sons.”
“His sons are his enemies,” said Kieran, without inflection.
Magnus looked at him with a flicker of extra interest. “All right,” he said, sitting up. “Diana explained some of this to us, but it’s more complicated than I thought. Annabel Blackthorn, who was brought back from the dead by Malcolm, who was sort of dead before but is now very definitely dead, has the Black Volume. And the Seelie Queen wants it?”
“She does,” said Mark. “She was very clear about that.”
“And she made you a deal,” Alec said, from the floor. “She always makes a deal.”
“If we give her the Black Volume, she will use it against the Unseelie King,” said Mark, and hesitated. YOU CAN TRUST MAGNUS AND ALEC, Julian had texted earlier. TELL THEM ANYTHING. “She has sworn not to try to use it to harm us. In fact, she has promised aid to us. She made Kieran her messenger. He’ll testify in front of the Council about the Unseelie King’s plans to make war on Alicante. Once the Queen has the Black Volume, she will authorize her Seelie soldiers to fight alongside Shadowhunters against the King—but the Clave will have to end all laws that forbid cooperation with faeries if they want her help.”
“Which they will,” said Magnus. “Fighting a war against Faerie would be much easier with faeries on your side.”
Mark nodded. “We are hoping not just to defeat the King, but also to crush the Cohort and end the Cold Peace.”
“Ah, the Cohort,” said Magnus, exchanging a look with Alec. “We know them well. Horace Dearborn and his daughter, Zara.”
“Horace?” Mark was startled.
“Sadly,” said Magnus, “that is his name. Hence his life of evil.”
“Not that the Dearborns are all of it,” said Alec. “Plenty of bigots in the Clave, happy to gather under the umbrella of tossing out the Downworlders and returning the Clave to its former glory.”
“Glory?” Kieran raised an eyebrow. “Do they mean the time of freely killing Downworlders? When our blood ran in the streets and their houses were stuffed with the spoils of their one-sided war?”
“Yes,” said Magnus, “though they wouldn’t describe it that way.”
“Heading up the Alliance, we’ve heard more than a little about the Cohort,” said Alec. “Their pushes to limit warlocks’ use of their magic, to centralize blood supply for vampires so it can be monitored by the Clave—those have not gone unnoticed.”
“They must not be allowed to get their hands on an Institute,” said Magnus. “That could be potentially disastrous.” He sighed and swung his legs over the side of the table. “I understand we must give the Black Volume to the Queen. But I don’t like it, especially since it seems doubly important here.”
“You mean because Annabel and Malcolm stole it from the Cornwall Institute,” said Ty. “And then Malcolm stole it again, from the Institute in Los Angeles.”
“The first time they were going to trade it to someone who they thought could protect them from the Clave,” said Livvy. “The second time was with the Unseelie King’s help. At least, according to Emma and Jules.”
“And how did they find that out?” asked Magnus.
“It was in one of the books they found,” said Cristina. “A diary. It explains why we found an Unseelie Court glove at the ruins of Malcolm’s house. He must have met with the King or one of his sons there.”
“Odd thing to write in a diary,” Magnus muttered. “ ‘Traitorous plans with the Unseelie King afoot today, what ho.’”
“Odder that Malcolm disappeared from the Silent City after the first theft,” said Mark, “and left Annabel to take the blame and the punishment.”
“Why odd?” said Livvy. “He was a terrible person.”
“But he did love Annabel,” Cristina said. “Everything he did, the crimes, the murders, all his choices were made for love of her. And when he found out she hadn’t become an Iron Sister, but had been murdered by her family, he went to the King of Faeries and asked for help in bringing her back. Don’t you remember?”
Mark did remember, the story in the old book Tavvy had found, which had turned out to be true. “Which explains why Malcolm broke into the Los Angeles Institute to get the book five years ago,” he said. “To bring Annabel back. But what did Malcolm want it for, two hundred years ago? Who was he planning to trade it to? Most necromancers couldn’t help him with protection. And if it was a warlock, it would have to have been one stronger than Malcolm himself.”
“ ‘Fade’s powerful ally,’ ” Ty said, quoting the scene in the crystal.
“We don’t think it could have been the Unseelie King?” Livvy said. “Both times?”