CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

REBECCA

Jace was prowling the room like a cat. The rest of them watched him, Simon with one eyebrow cocked.

"There's no other way to get there?" Jace asked. "We can't try to Portal?"

"We're not demons. We can Portal only within a dimension," said Alec.

"I know that, but if Clary experimented with the Portal runes-"

"I won't do it," Clary interrupted, putting her hand protectively over her pocket. "I won't put you all in danger. I Portaled myself and Luke to Idris and nearly got us killed. I'm not risking it."

"I've got an idea," Rebecca said. "Clary, you can make a Portal to the Seelie Court, right?"

"Yes," she said. "That I could do - I've been there; I remember it. But would we be safe? We haven't been invited, and the Fair Folk don't like incursions into their territory-"

"There's no 'we' here," Rebecca said firmly. "I'm going alone."

Alec sprang to his feet and said loudly, "I knew it, I bloody knew it, and absolutely not. Not a chance."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Since when do you say 'bloody'?"

"Since the situation bloody warrants it." He crossed his arms over his chest.

She sighed. "Guys, I have to do this alone. I started this whole mess, and I have to fix it."

"Sebastian started this mess," Isabelle pointed out.

"And exactly how do you plan to take him down yourself?" Jace's voice was steady, but Rebecca could see the tension in his shoulders when he spoke.

"Because the Queen knows me," she said, crossing her arms too. "I've visited her more times than I'd want to admit, and she still thinks I'm on Sebastian's side. If we all show up-"

"She'll know you're on our side." Clary exhaled slowly.

"Exactly. She'd probably try to kill us. Even if we do get past her, she'll definitely warn Sebastian."

Everyone was silent; Rebecca knew she had hit them with a good argument. "Besides, I-I can't stand putting you guys in danger. Not again."

"That's not your choice to make," Isabelle said firmly.

"By the way," Jace said dryly, "How exactly did you plan on killing him without me?"

"I don't need you-" Rebecca began hotly.

"You said that heavenly fire was the only thing that could kill him."

She gritted her teeth. She knew when she was beaten. "Okay, fine. But the others-"

"Becca, you are NOT doing this on your own," Alec cut in firmly.

"Is it because you don't trust me?" She didn't mean to yell, but she did.

Alec looked stunned at her outburst; he opened his mouth to respond, but she didn't let him.

"I'M STILL A TRAITOR TO YOU, AREN'T I?" She wasn't even yelling anymore, she was screaming. She could feel the demon blood flowing through her, fueling the rage.

Then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone. All the rage left her, and she was nothing but a puppet whose strings had just been cut. Everyone's eyes were on her, and she could see bewilderment in their faces, and more than a tinge of fear.

"Sorry, I-" The words caught in her throat. "I'm sorry." She left the room before anyone could say anything.

But she didn't know where to go. Back at the New York Institute, she would always go to the roof to cool off after an argument with Jace or Isabelle. Here, in the unfamiliar Lightwood manor in Alicante, she found herself walking around aimlessly - looking for what, she wasn't quite sure.

Finally, she found what must have been the drawing room. It looked as if it hadn't been used in a very long time - the plush armchairs were all covered in a fine film of dust, and the curtains were drawn, dousing the room in a dreary gray light.

Rebecca walked absent-mindedly over to the ottoman and placed a hand down on it, watching the dust rise into the air and hang there, falling slowly, gently. A mere two weeks ago, she wouldn't have been able to enter the room without collapsing into a fit of sneezes - but now, the dust didn't bother her at all. It was an odd feeling to actually miss an ailment like that, but she knew why she did. It was just one more thing that made her feel less human.

"Fancy, isn't it?"

She whirled around. Jace stood by the door, his shoulder hitched against the dark oak doors.

"I suppose. They even have an ottoman. Aren't those things from the 19th century?"

"Trust some posh, pretentious family to keep one in their drawing room." Jace strode in and closely inspected an armchair before apparently deciding that it was good enough to sit in. A puff of dust rose as he plopped into it. "We're leaving in fifteen minutes, by the way. Everyone's getting ready."

"Okay." Rebecca looked up and met his cool, sharp gaze. Could she tell him what had been weighing on her mind ever since she had set out to kill Sebastian? Could she tell him of the risk to her own life?

I'm going to die either way, she reminded herself, and straightened. "I suppose I'd better get ready too, then." She walked out of the room, leaving Jace still sitting in the armchair, looking lost in thought.

"Where are we?" Isabelle frowned, picking pieces of moss out of her hair.

"I aimed for just outside the Throne Room," Clary replied, getting to her feet. Behind her, the shimmery mistiness of the Portal vanished, leaving them in darkness.

"It looks different." Simon's voice penetrated the gloom.

"It always looks different," Rebecca replied, brushing moss away from her face. "Come on, I know the way."

The six of them moved down the corridor, their feet making no noise, thanks to the Soundless runes they had all applied before going through the Portal. It was just as Rebecca remembered it, except for the curtain covering the archway that loomed up in front of them - it changed every time she visited. The last time, the curtain had been made out of dead leaves. Now, it was thorns, woven together so that they formed a dangling sheet.

She could hear voices from beyond the curtain – even some laughter. Her grip on her sword tightened. Carefully, she lifted the thorn curtain slightly, hoping to see what was going on beyond it. The others crowded around her, necks straining. Someone stepped on her foot, and she fought back an involuntary gasp of pain.

The Queen was impossible to miss. Wearing a silvery dress, she reclined on her divan, as her red hair, artfully woven with roses, fell across one shoulder. The floor was covered in snow, and long icicles hung from the ceiling, each one bound around with ropes of gold-and-silver thorns. Bunches of white roses were piled around the room. Rebecca had to blink; the effect was quite blinding.

Once her eyes adjusted to the light, she realized the Queen was talking to a heavily armored faerie knight. His armor was dark brown, the color of the trunk of a tree; one of his eyes was black, the other pale blue, almost white. For a moment she thought he had the head of a deer tucked under his big arm, but as she looked closer, she realized that it was a helmet, decorated with antlers.

A shiver ran through her as she recognized the knight. It was Gwyn, the leader of the Wild Hunt. Rebecca had seen him only once before, when she and Sebastian had visited the Seelie Queen. The memory of his unnerving gaze, the way he exuded power as ancient as time itself... it was not pleasant to be in his company.

"And how goes it with the Wild Hunt, Gwyn?" the Queen was asking. "The Gatherers of the Dead? I assume there were rich pickings for you at the Adamant Citadel the other night. I hear that the howls of the Nephilim tore the sky as they died."

"So I have heard, my lady," Gwyn said. His voice was rich and deep, like the kind of voice a tree would have, if it could speak. "But we were not at the Adamant Citadel. The war games of Nephilim and Dark Ones are too rich for our blood. The Fair Folk mix poorly with demons and angels."

"You disappoint me, Gwyn." The Queen's delicate features twisted themselves into a childish pout. "I had hoped for your advice."

"Forgive me, lady," Gwyn said. "I cannot advise you."

"But I gave you such a gift." The Queen sulked. "The Blackthorn boy. Shadowhunter and faerie blood together; it is rare. He will ride at your back, and demons will fear you. A gift from myself."

Rebecca's heart felt like it had been twisted into a pretzel. She stepped back quickly and heard gasps behind her as she trod on quite a few toes.

"What's wrong?" Alec whispered.

But Rebecca barely heard his question. She had already raised her sword, and before anyone could stop her, she strode through the curtain. The rest of them exchanged the briefest of exasperated glances before following her.

Rebecca had never seen the Queen look as flustered as she did now. She pulled herself upright with a hiss, the roses in her hair coming loose and falling to the floor. Gwyn's hand jumped to the sword at his side.

"How dare you enter the Court unbidden?" the Queen demanded. "This is the highest of crimes, a breaking of Covenant Law-"

"How dare you speak of breaking Covenant Law!" Jace shouted. "You, who have murdered, and lied, and taken Downworlders of the Council prisoner. You have allied yourself with evil forces, and you will pay for it."

The Queen smiled, her composure regained. "Jace Herondale, with the company you keep, I doubt you have the authority to lecture me on breaking Covenant Law."

Jace must have realized she was talking about Rebecca, because he turned to face her, his eyebrows arched.

"Rebecca Lightwood," the Queen said silkily. "Seems like you've had a change of heart."

Rebecca said nothing.

"I warned him, you know," the Queen continued, picking a rose out of her hair. "Humans are unpredictable creatures. I warned him you would break his heart. I tried to protect him." A flash of anger crossed her features. "But he was blinded by his obsession with you."

"Aw, that's too bad. He didn't listen to you, did he?" Rebecca poured mock sympathy into her voice. "Did you want him all to yourself? I don't blame you, really. He's so handsome. And a really good kisser. I didn't know that, did you?" She felt a savage sort of pleasure as the Queen's mouth puckered at her words.

"You do realize that if we kill you here and now, before you can return to the Clave to tell your tales, none need ever know-"

"I'd like to see you try, you cow," Rebecca spat.

The Queen regarded them expressionlessly. "I'll be sure to convey the tragic news of your death to Sebastian," was all she said before a dozen faerie knights poured out of the tunnel, Meliorn among them. As they advanced on the little group of Shadowhunters, Gwyn slipped away quietly.

The fight barely lasted for ten minutes. There were at least fifteen faerie warriors, but they were no match for the Shadowhunters, and in no time at all, they were on the ground, most of them injured or dead.

Alec had an arrow aimed straight at Meliorn's head as he clutched his leg, which was bleeding profusely. "Tell us how to get Magnus - how to get the prisoners back," he said. "Do it, or I'll turn you into a pincushion."

Meliorn spat. His white armor seemed to blend into the snow around him. "I will tell you nothing," he said. "Torture me, kill me, I shall not betray my Queen."

"He's useless," Rebecca said, watching his blood stain the snow around him. "He can lie, remember?"

Alec's face shut. "True," he said. Without another word, he let the arrow fly. It sank into Meliorn's chest, and the faerie knight fell back, the force of the arrow sending his body skidding back across the snow. His head hit the cave wall with a wet smack.

"There's more of them coming," Isabelle said, jerking her head towards the archway. Clary grabbed her stele and raced towards it. "I've got it!" she yelled over her shoulder.

Rebecca didn't wait to see what she would do. Gripping her sword, which was slick with faerie blood, she made for the Queen, who was still standing next to her divan, her face twisted in horror. She vaulted over the divan and grabbed the Queen's arm, pressing her sword against the tip of her throat. "Right. Now, give us what we want, or the next dead body will be yours."