Page 137
For a moment, Dru had thought he’d say he required no promises because he trusted her, even admired her. But he was colder than that, Dru reminded herself. Capable of desire, but desire was not an emotion. It was a physical drive.
A part of her almost wanted to refuse him, to tell him she didn’t trust him enough to risk so much beside him. But the more practical part of her, the Julian part of her brain, knew it didn’t matter if she trusted him or he trusted her back. Her chances were better with Ash than without him. He knew Faerie, and his power to inspire loyalty would be useful if they were caught.
As if he knew what she’d decided, Ash reached up and pinched the wick of the candle, snuffing out the light. “You know where Clary is, I believe,” he said. “Lead the way.”
But it was Ash who went first, slipping out the door and gesturing for her to follow. They moved quickly down the corridor, neatly avoiding the twisted roots of trees, until they reached the Huntsman’s door. Dru moved away to let Ash open it, but saw him frown. “It’s locked.”
“Give me the stele,” said Dru, holding out her hand. She couldn’t help herself from glancing up and down the corridor. Even with Ash’s company it would be hard to explain why she was trying to get into the Huntsman’s room.
Ash hesitated.
Dru shot him a glare that could have withered a plant. “You have to trust me,” she hissed. “I need Clary just as much as you do—”
“Take it.” Ash drew the slender, wand-like object from his breast pocket, and pressed it into her hand. Dru’s fingers clenched around it, a feeling of immense relief spreading through her chest, as if the adamas itself had the power to complete something missing inside her.
She raised the stele, and slashed a quick Open rune across the door. She heard the lock click, the hinges squeak as the door swung open. She could have picked the lock, of course, but this was much faster.
She turned to look at Ash, but he had already pushed past her into the room.
Dru hurried after him. And stopped in her tracks. The room was just as she recalled it: the waterfall, the small pool, the bed dressed in black linen, and the golden cage in the middle of the room. Only one thing had changed.
The cage was empty.
Jaime
It took Jaime and Thais nearly a day to walk from Brocelind Forest to Lake Lyn.
Jaime thought it was a little strange that no one was guarding the painted rowboats that rested on the shore. But then, the Cohort had no reason to think that there were enemies—or even strangers—within the borders of Idris. It was true that Manuel knew he and Thais were here, but Jaime was proceeding on the assumption that Manuel still hadn’t told anyone about his extracurricular Shadowhunter torturing activities.
It was a warm night and the stars were brilliant overhead, with no electric lights nearby to dim them. No one was in sight as they untied a red rowboat and pushed it out into the water, which was cold, but not brutally so. It was, of course, poisonous, but Jaime was pretty sure it wouldn’t do any serious harm to their feet and ankles. If it did, they had steles at hand.
The dark line of the shore receded quickly, and soon they no longer needed to push the boat; it was bobbing on the surface of the water, which glimmered with reflected starlight. They both clambered in. It occurred to Jaime that Thais made even thunking into a rowboat look graceful.
There was a question he wanted to ask her, something that had been bothering him the night before as he lay awake, thinking about Zara and Manuel. As he and Thais picked up oars, Jaime said, “How old are you?”
Thais looked a little surprised. “I’m eighteen,” she said, starting to row. “Not too much older than Dru. How old are you?”
“I’m not sure.” He laughed at how absurd it sounded. “When I went into Faerie, I was nineteen. And as far as I’m concerned, only a few months passed. I’m still nineteen. I think.”
Thais scrunched her face up as she puzzled it out. It was very cute. “I think that’s the way it works. If you spend a hundred mortal years in Faerie, you don’t age a hundred years—”
She broke off with a scream.
She was staring into the lake water, her face contorted in shock and horror. Jaime felt a chill run through him. Steeling himself, he leaned over his side of the boat, gazing down into the depths of the Mortal Mirror.
The water of the lake was dark and still, but clear as glass. A few meters below the surface, where the translucence began to darken, pale shapes hovered. With a shaking hand, Thais plunged her witchlight into the water, illuminating what the starlight had only hinted at: horribly human shapes, a crowd of them, their ranks stretching as far as Jaime could see.
They hung in rows, as if suspended from strings, their faces upturned like pallid flowers seeking the sunlight. There were runes visible on their skin. Some wore gear.
Jaime’s stomach lurched. Shadowhunters.
He had half known they were there. He’d been almost sure. But the sight of it was somehow different. There were so many of them, thousands at least. His brother might well be down there. Cristina. His mother, his family, his friends, lost in a nightmare darkness they might never leave.
“They’re there. They’re all under there,” Thais whispered, and as they both gazed down into the water, a deep red light appeared, as if the water of the lake had seen Thais’s witchlight and was responding in kind. Jaime thought he saw the shapes of strange runes before Thais yanked her witchlight out of the lake, dousing both lights. “We need to get out of Idris and get help,” she said in horror. “Zara said they were getting food, and if there’s a way into Idris, there must be a way out.”
Jaime thought of the tunnels to Faerie, the ones he had followed the Huntsman through what seemed like forever ago. But the moment he had stepped out of them, the other Jace had stabbed him; he’d never had a chance to orient himself. “Or help could come to us,” said Jaime, and he lifted his hand so that the ring Magnus had given him—so long ago, before he’d left for Faerie—sparked in the starlight. “We need to summon Magnus.”
24