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“What’s wrong?” Kit said.

Ty looked up in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected Kit to be watching him. He probably hadn’t. “Nothing serious. I think the wood of that door in the puzzle room had a warding spell of some kind on it.”

“Let me see.” Kit crossed the room as Ty held out his hands, palms up. Kit was brought up short. Across each of Ty’s palms was a red welt where he’d gripped the door, trying to keep it wedged open for Kit. It looked as if he’d clung too tightly to a rope that was sliding through his hands.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Kit asked, sitting down on the bed next to Ty. Next to, but not close. Not too close for Kit’s peace of mind.

Ty looked away. It had begun to drizzle outside, and Kit could see a barge floating slowly down the canal. The streetlamps seemed to flicker in the changing air. “I didn’t feel it,” he said. “You know how it is when you get into that battle mindset. Everything else kind of goes away.”

Kit did know; all Shadowhunters did. He reached into his pocket and drew out his stele. “Hold still.”

Ty didn’t say anything, but he didn’t move, either. Kit slid his hand under Ty’s left wrist and immediately felt a hard thumping beat inside his chest. This was the most he’d touched Ty in four years. Four years of thinking about him, dreaming about him, being angry at him. Now he was close enough to feel the warmth of Ty’s body so near his own. Ty was wearing a damp thermal shirt that clung to him; beneath the material Kit could not only make out the shape of his chest and shoulders, but the outline of the two necklaces he always wore: Livvy’s Blackthorn locket, and the silver Herondale pendant that Magnus had enchanted to protect Ty and Livvy from the worst effects of their necromantic bond. That necklace was mine, once, Kit thought. I gave it to Magnus so he could use it to help Ty and Livvy. Livvy had thanked Kit for it; he’d never heard anything from Ty. It had been a reminder not to expect things he had no right to expect.

Kit pressed the tip of his stele against Ty’s skin, at the soft inside of his wrist. Ty inhaled sharply as the curving lines of the iratze spiraled across his skin. Kit moved to his right wrist and did the same thing again; this time, after the initial wince, Ty’s shoulders relaxed as the pain drained out of him. The iratzes seemed to flash before sinking into Ty’s skin, leaving only the white ghosts of themselves behind.

“Thanks,” Ty said, flexing his fingers. “It’s always better when someone else does it.”

It was interesting, Kit thought as he tucked his stele away: For him, being this close to Ty, touching him, felt intimate, but to Ty, it was clearly just business. The business of being a Shadowhunter and needing a healing rune. No intimacy required. “Where’s Livvy?” Kit said. “Is there any pattern to when she’s here and when she’s not?”

“She’s not going to spy on you in the bathtub if that’s what you’re worried about.” Ty set his hands on his knees. “She comes and goes, but she respects privacy.”

“Where does she go?” Kit asked quietly. He knew the topic of Livvy might be on the list of things they’d agreed not to discuss. The necromancy responsible for her current state had been the rock their friendship foundered on. But Livvy was with them now, and if they couldn’t talk about her, things would be even more awkward.

Besides, Kit couldn’t summon up the same anger he’d felt toward Ty since that night by Lake Lyn. It was easy to be angry at someone who was far away, and harder when they were right in front of you, their hands bleeding because they’d helped you, and you hadn’t even noticed they’d been hurt.

“She can turn incorporeal to conserve energy,” Ty said. “She usually does it when I have to fight demons, or do something else intensive. I can still feel when she’s there; I can just sense her, whether I can see her or not. But mostly when she disappears, she’s…testing things. Seeing how far away from me she can go. Originally it was so she could examine the wards around Idris. Find out if there was a way to take them down. Now I think she likes…” He shrugged. “Seeing the world.”

So when Livvy had talked about energy before, Kit thought, she hadn’t just meant her own. She’d meant Ty’s, too. It took both their energy for her to do certain things, which Ty seemed to find completely normal. Kit wondered if he could ask for more details, but that might be too much like talking about the past.

“Well,” Kit said. He glanced sideways. The wavering light in the room turned Ty’s profile into something delicate and fierce all at once. “That’s okay, isn’t it?”

“It is. She deserves to explore. It’s only…” Ty shook his head. “Nothing.”

Nothing. Whatever was bothering Ty, he didn’t want to tell Kit. And Kit couldn’t blame him.

“What you just did,” Ty said. “Healing my hands. Why do it?”

Kit stood up. It was too much, being on the bed with Ty. Too much closeness, too many thoughts. Too much everything. “I owed you. You got hurt helping me.”

“And you wouldn’t want to owe me,” Ty said. Kit understood exactly what he meant. And he felt the weight of what was behind it, that unhealed scar. Ty looked down at his hands, where the red welts had almost disappeared. “You know, this quest, this search, whatever you want to call it—it belongs to both of us. Dru is my sister. We both need it to work.”

I know.

“We should get some sleep,” Kit said. “We should probably take an early train.”

Without a word, Ty got up to turn off the light.

In the dark, they both lay on their respective beds, most of their clothes still on. Kit pulled the duvet up over him, huddling into the warmth. Moonlight—or it could have been lamplight—came in through the window, bathing the room in a dull glow.

Kit could hear Ty breathing: the soft exhale-inhale rhythm was soothing in its way, but he couldn’t help but notice that Ty’s breaths weren’t evening out in sleep. He remembered four years ago when he’d been so attuned to everything Ty did; he hadn’t always been conscious of it but he’d noticed every movement of Ty’s hands, every flick of his eyes.

He rolled onto his side. He could see Ty lying flat on his back, his arms crossed behind his head. His profile in the dim light looked like cut ivory. The arc of his body held tension that told Kit he wasn’t nearly relaxed enough to sleep.

“Ty,” he said, and Ty jumped a little in surprise and looked over at him. “Do you want a Sleep rune?”

Ty shook his head. “I don’t like how they knock me out,” he admitted. “It’s just—I have a sleep routine, and if I don’t follow it…”

Kit propped himself up on his elbow. “Does it take a long time?”