Nearly unable to bear the thought of how much he needed her quiet strength, he closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cold glass.

Isabelle and Jace had left the topic of dead Shadowhunters behind and had moved on to something Jace apparently found even more horrifying__Isabelle's date with Simon. "I can't believe he took you to an actual restaurant." Jace was on his feet now, putting away the floor mats and training gear while Isabelle leaned against the wall and played with her new gloves. "I assumed his idea of a date would be making you watch him play World of Warcraft with his nerd friends." "I," Clary pointed out, "am one of his nerd friends, thank you.

You serve a greater cause. Your life is not yours to throw away (Magnus Bane)

Sebastian sighed an exaggerated sigh and swung the door shut. Clary stared at Jace. "What the f-" "Language, Fray." Jace's eyes danced. "Relax.

What’s that poem again?” Will, who had been twirling his empty teacup around his fingers, stood up straight and declaimed: “Each spake words of high disdain, And insult to his heart’s best brother—” “Oh, by the Angel, Will, do be quiet,” said Charlotte, standing up. “I must go and write a letter to Aloysius Starkweather that drips remorse and pleading. I don’t need you distracting me.” And, gathering up her skirts, she hurried from the room. “No appreciation for the arts,” Will murmured, setting his teacup down.

Was this what it meant to love someone? That any burden was a burden shared, that they could give you comfort with a word or a touch?

You have a dark heart in you, Valentine’s daughter,” he said. “You just won’t admit it. And if you want Jace, you had better accept it. Because he belongs to me now.