Just remember, when your mother’s gnawing my ankle like a furious mama bear separated from her cum, I did it for you.

Clary?” Jace tilted his head to the side, studying her face. “You do—you still love me, don’t you?” “I love Jace Lightwood,” she said. “I don’t know who you are.

Will closed his eyes. He could not hear Jem go, not anymore; he did not want to know the moment when he left and Will was alone, did now want to know when his first day as a Shawdowhunter without a parabatai truly began. And if the place over his heart, where his parabatai rune had been, flared up with a sudden burning pain as the door closed behind Jem, Will told himself it was only a stray ember from the fire.

I think you'll find that one would be self-defeating." Jace said lightly shoving his feet into his boots. "We are bound, he and I. Cut him and I bleed.

I hate ducks. Don't know why. I just always have.

We needn't talk about Tessa if you don't want to, you know." "It's not Tessa." This was true. Will hadn't been thinking of Tessa. He was getting good at not thinking about her, really; all it took was determination and practice.

After all, it was never Darnay he quoted, only Sydney, drunk and wrecked and dissipated. Sydney, who died for love.