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Magnus grunted. There was another blue spark and the cracks in the pendant began to fade. Soon it was smooth metal again, cool as the side of a glass.

Magnus shook his head. “I can fix the cracks, but from the look of you, you’ve been pushing yourself to the limit. Every time Livvy does anything to affect the living world, it’s a drain on your bond. Eventually Livvy will take all your energy, regardless of whether she means to or wants to.”

“If that’s the price—feeling weak and sick—it’s still worth it.”

“It will kill you in the end,” Magnus said. He gestured, and the alarm button ceased glowing. The elevator jerked and resumed its downward journey. “Unless you make a great change. You will have to decide what there is left of you to spend.”

“I’m not just indulging myself. Without Livvy, I wouldn’t have known Dru was gone. We wouldn’t have been able to gather all the pieces of the crown.”

They stepped out into the lobby, and for a moment it was a sensory assault. The smell of furniture polish, sharp but nearly overpowered by the scent of gardenias that came from the lobby candles. The murmur of voices cut through with the sound of piano music. The music should have been soothing, like the music from his headphones, but Ty’s worry over Kit was mixing with the discomfort of what Magnus had just said, making his head ache.

He slid his hand into his pocket, touched the rough-smooth surface of the sea glass. He crossed the lobby with Magnus, tracking the illumination from the overhead chandelier as they passed a bank of mirrors. He liked the symmetry of the glass prisms, the way the light bent and split around them.

They reached the revolving door that led out of the hotel. Ty passed through it and found himself on the pavement, the cold night air catching his breath.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” he said, as Magnus joined him. “We need to find Kit.” He knew they had hours left until the potion wore off, but even so, what if Kit disappeared into the city? What if he was too angry to ever come back?

Magnus raised his hand. Blue fire burned at the tip of his fingers. “Kit isn’t far away,” he said, and Ty felt a spark of relief. “But you have to know that Kit wouldn’t want you to destroy yourself to keep Livvy’s spirit around.”

“You don’t know anything about what Kit wants,” Ty said, and set off down the street, the High Crown of Faerie heavy inside his jacket.

23

The Hour Has Come

It was raining again. Kit splashed through puddles in the streets of Munich, kicking up water with his boots. He was doing his best to claw back the anger that was raging in his chest, but it wasn’t easy.

It was the worst kind of anger, the kind that had no real target to point at. Ragnor hadn’t known when he’d set Kit and Ty on this path where it would lead them—none of the Guardians had known. Magnus had just learned that the pieces of the artifact formed the High Crown, so it wasn’t his fault either. The flaw was in him, in the accident of his birth. He thought bitterly that Auraline should never have had children and passed this curse on. But Auraline was long dead, and it wasn’t satisfying being mad at her.

“Kit!”

Kit looked over his shoulder to see Magnus striding after him. Ty wasn’t with him—Kit pushed back the faint flick of disappointment. It made sense. Ty knew about leaving people alone when they were angry. Magnus, on the other hand, looked furious. “Kit!” he shouted again. “We have to get you back inside. The potion might keep you safe from the Riders, but when it wears off—”

Kit didn’t want to hear about what would happen when it wore off, and besides, that was hours in the future, and hours were long. He started to walk away, but something caught hold of him, spinning him around so he was facing Magnus. The warlock’s hand was raised, blue fire dripping from his fingers like water drops.

“I’m sorry,” Magnus said. “But you have to listen.”

Kit tried to take a step back. But he was frozen in place, held where he was by Magnus’s spell. His feet wouldn’t obey him—

Unless, he thought, I break the bonds of this spell. Walk away. I could do that.

But he wasn’t sure if he wanted Magnus to know about his power yet, this power he didn’t even know how to fully control. He stayed where he was, rain running into his collar, as Magnus drew closer to him.

Kit thought of Magnus as someone who always emanated unflappable calm, even in the worst circumstances. Kit suspected it was because he had been alive so long, had seen and lost so much; Magnus had practice at all of it. Nothing could overwhelm him.

But he could see now that layers of that calm had been stripped away. It wasn’t only that Magnus was exhausted. Just as Kit had lost Jem and Tessa and Mina, Magnus had lost Alec and might yet lose his children. And it didn’t matter how long Magnus had been alive or how many times he had experienced grief before. There was nothing that could protect him from the loss he was already feeling, a loss that would only get worse unless they were able to save the ones who were gone.

“Listen to me,” Magnus said, his gold-green eyes brilliant in the rain. “The Herondales are an obnoxious bunch. And you are no different. But one thing they all have in common—they don’t run away. Not when they can help; not when they’re the only ones who can help. And not because things are unfair. Things are always unfair.”

Kit swallowed rainwater. It tasted like asphalt. “Is this your version of an inspiring speech?”

“I’m not trying to inspire you,” Magnus said. “I’m trying to scare you. You should be scared.” He shook his head, scattering water droplets. “This was always going to happen, Kit. You weren’t going to be able to live your whole life surrounded by wards, like a prisoner. Jem and Tessa weren’t always going to be able to protect you.”

“That’s not the point,” Kit said, through his teeth. “I couldn’t protect them.”

Magnus’s voice softened slightly. “It’s not over, Kit. You still can.”

“By becoming the King of Faerie?” Kit said bitterly. “It doesn’t make sense—”