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They were submerged underwater, but they were still alive, somehow. Their hair drifted around them, floating like seaweed. And there were neat rows of Shadowhunters behind them, lined up like some terrible orchard. Dru strained to identify them, but beyond the bit of water she was looking at, darkness obscured their faces.

Elara had turned around. “What is it, Drusilla? What are you seeing?”

“I—” Dru tried to speak, but her throat had closed. Her hands trembled on the edges of the bowl as the scene before her faded to black. She could no longer see her friends, her family. Instead, words began to float to the surface of the dark water, glowing as if they had been written in phosphorescent ink.

I am the hole in the heart of the world.

I am the destruction that does not relent.

I am the last light before the darkness.

I am the star—

A voice came from behind Dru, cold and sharp as steel. It shattered the image in the bowl like a rock thrown through glass: The words splintered and vanished, sinking down into the water.

“Move away from the bowl.”

Dru flinched and looked up, though she already knew what she would see. The Queen had come into the room, her body a pale wand of shadow, her crown shining in among the scarlet tresses of her hair.

Her gown drifted around her in gold and moss green, the colors of overlapping leaves in the forest. Her eyes were unreadable, her expression one of cool disgust, as if she’d overturned a stone to find the dirt beneath it overrun with wriggling worms.

Beside her was the Huntsman. Janus. He was not wearing his hawk mask, and his resemblance to Jace, as always, twisted Dru’s stomach. She had just seen the real Jace, unconscious, floating below the surface of black water. Why was this version of him the one that was conscious and free?

He turned to look at Elara, who cringed back from him in obvious terror. That sparked his smile; he took her by the arm and shoved her violently back against the wall.

“Stay there,” he demanded, and came toward the scrying bowl, watching with easy amusement as Dru returned his look with a furious glare. “The Queen told you to move away from the bowl, girl,” he said to Dru, and his voice was horribly silky. “Come down from there, or I shall make you come down.”

Almost shaking with rage—mixed with a sinking terror—Dru walked down from the plinth, stepping to the side as the Queen pushed past her, taking what must be her accustomed place behind the scrying bowl. She cast a glance toward the dark water, a look of real surprise passing over her face. It vanished quickly, replaced by scorn.

“So,” the Queen murmured. “The bowl’s power has not harmed you. You’ve seen the Shadowhunters in Lake Lyn.” Her blue gaze flicked over Dru, almost lazily. “You Blackthorns are too curious. I remember your brother Julian—so willing to risk his own life if he thought others were in danger. ”

Dru felt as if her whole body was vibrating. Not just fear, she thought, but horror, and a hatred that seemed almost to choke her. “What’s happened to the Shadowhunters?” she demanded. “They’re not dead, are they? Just imprisoned?”

The Queen looked delighted by the desperation in Dru’s voice. “Correct. They are not dead.”

“Who did this?” Dru demanded. “Who trapped them there?”

“You silly child.” The Queen was clearly enjoying herself. “The Shadowhunters did this to themselves.”

“Was it him? Janus?” Dru shot a look at him, full of loathing.

He laughed. “How flattering. As if I had that kind of power.”

“Then who does?”

“I think you know,” Janus said, smirking at her. “You are Nephilim. In your heart, you must guess.”

“That’s not—” Dru began, but the Queen raised a hand.

“Enough,” she said. “Listen to me carefully, Drusilla Blackthorn, because I will not repeat myself. You are here in my Court because Ash wants you here. But the final say does not rest with him. It rests with me. And you, Shadowhunter, you are beginning to test my patience.”

“Oh, am I?” Dru spat. “Is my fear for the safety of my family annoying you?”

Anger made the Queen’s beautiful face twist into something like ugliness. “Let me make something clear to you, child,” she snarled. “I know what would happen if I beat you. If I lashed you until your skin sang with pain. You would not submit. It would only make you more willful. More disobedient. Which is why your punishment will be visited on someone else.” She turned her head toward Elara, trembling against the wall. “The handmaiden should never have allowed you in here,” the Queen said. “She knows better.”

Dru’s heart felt as if it were being squeezed by a fist. Elara cried out, but before she could even try to run, Janus had seized her by the arm, swinging her around so that her back was to him, his silver blade pressed to her throat.

“No,” Dru whispered. “No. You can’t punish her for something I did. That’s not fair.”