Valentine's Arrow

25: Innocence Lost

But she didn't know where to go. Back at the New York Institute, she would always go to the roof to cool off after an argument with Jace or Isabelle. Here, in the unfamiliar Lightwood manor in Alicante, she found herself walking around aimlessly - looking for what, she wasn't quite sure.

Finally, she found what must have been the drawing room. It looked as if it hadn't been used in a very long time - the plush armchairs were all covered in a fine film of dust, and the curtains were drawn, dousing the room in a dreary gray light.

Rebecca walked absent-mindedly over to the ottoman and placed a hand down on it, watching the dust rise into the air and hang there, falling slowly, gently. A mere two weeks ago, she wouldn't have been able to enter the room without collapsing into a fit of sneezes - but now, the dust didn't bother her at all. It was an odd feeling to actually miss an ailment like that, but she knew why she did. It was just one more thing that made her feel less human.

"Fancy, isn't it?"

She whirled around. Jace stood by the door, his shoulder hitched against the dark oak doors.

"I suppose. They even have an ottoman. Aren't those things from the 19th century?"

"Trust some posh, pretentious family to keep one in their drawing room." Jace strode in and closely inspected an armchair before apparently deciding that it was good enough to sit in. A puff of dust rose as he plopped into it. "We're leaving in fifteen minutes, by the way. Everyone's getting ready."

"Okay." Rebecca looked up and met his cool, sharp gaze. Could she tell him what had been weighing on her mind ever since she had set out to kill Sebastian? Could she tell him of the risk to her own life?

I'm going to die either way, she reminded herself, and straightened. "I suppose I'd better get ready too, then." She walked out of the room, leaving Jace still sitting in the armchair, looking lost in thought.

"Where are we?" Isabelle frowned, picking pieces of moss out of her hair.

"I aimed for just outside the Throne Room," Clary replied, getting to her feet. Behind her, the shimmery mistiness of the Portal vanished, leaving them in darkness.

"It looks different." Simon's voice penetrated the gloom.

"It always looks different," Rebecca replied, brushing moss away from her face. "Come on, I know the way."

The six of them moved down the corridor, their feet making no noise, thanks to the Soundless runes they had all applied before going through the Portal. It was just as Rebecca remembered it, except for the curtain covering the archway that loomed up in front of them - it changed every time she visited. The last time, the curtain had been made out of dead leaves. Now, it was thorns, woven together so that they formed a dangling sheet.

She could hear voices from beyond the curtain – even some laughter. Her grip on her sword tightened. Carefully, she lifted the thorn curtain slightly, hoping to see what was going on beyond it. The others crowded around her, necks straining. Someone stepped on her foot, and she fought back an involuntary gasp of pain.

The Queen was impossible to miss. Wearing a silvery dress, she reclined on her divan, as her red hair, artfully woven with roses, fell across one shoulder. The floor was covered in snow, and long icicles hung from the ceiling, each one bound around with ropes of gold-and-silver thorns. Bunches of white roses were piled around the room. Rebecca had to blink; the effect was quite blinding.

Once her eyes adjusted to the light, she realized the Queen was talking to a heavily armored faerie knight. His armor was dark brown, the color of the trunk of a tree; one of his eyes was black, the other pale blue, almost white. For a moment she thought he had the head of a deer tucked under his big arm, but as she looked closer, she realized that it was a helmet, decorated with antlers.