Chapter 33 – Test the Waters

I spent most of the next few days in the Lightwoods' backyard. It was one of the few places I was allowed to visit alone. It was spacious enough to train without disturbing anyone. So far, the Inquisitor hadn't chosen a replacement trainer, but since both Jace and I had been invited to a meeting in her office, that probably wouldn't be the case for much longer. It would take place this afternoon and my motivation to see the leader of the Nephilim community again wasn't high.

Since Kadir had abused his position as trainer and attempted to kill me using Jace's powers, training had been suspended until further notice. A full week had now passed, and I spent every free minute I had in the snow-covered gardens that stretched across a wide expanse of land behind the Lightwoods' estate. On the right side of the property a gravel path led to the stables and on the left a brick wall bounded the family land. From my room I could see it and the street beyond. Everything in the garden was hidden by the snow. Even the way to the stables was invisible because nobody ever used it. Isabelle said no one would care about the property because they were in New York most of the time anyway. It was perfect. Her lack of interest in gardening gave me the opportunity to express myself without having to fear strange eyes on my back. As soon as I had stepped onto the back of the greens, I had known right away that this was the ideal place to continue my training while the world stopped around me. At least it felt like it was stopping. And yet the fear deep in my chest reminded me that two people would not stop and pause their plans.

They were the reason I came here every day and didn't stop training until the sun had already dropped below the horizon. I had to be prepared for Jonathan the day he would decide to come to Alicante. I was sure he would come. Only when was hidden from me. He haunted my dreams more and more often. Each of them ended the same. Erchomai, I am coming. It had to be a message from Ithuriel. It had been quiet around Valentine and Jonathan for far too long. I could literally feel the muscles in my body tightening with each passing day. It was like the freezing stillness before the overwhelming storm and I could only hope that I would be ready when it hit.

More than once in the past few days I'd wondered if Jace had the same dreams. We didn't talk about it. We had hardly spoken at all since the conversation in my room a week ago. Apart from the occasional Can you pass me the milk or Have you seen Isabelle, there was radio silence between us. When we were in the same room with others, he continued to ignore me. That's why I wondered what use this discussion had for him in the first place and why he had even apologized if he wasn't willing to change his behavior. Things between us took the same course as before our conversation.

On the other hand, my relationship with Isabelle had taken a decisively positive course. I didn't train alone. Most days she would join me in the woods behind her house. She usually came later and left earlier, but we still spent enough hours together to get to know each other a little. In the beginning, the joint training was more or less a partnership of convenience: Isabelle did not like training alone. Alec, Jace and, most recently, Adam had always been there at the Institute, but with the new arrangement the Inquisitor had made with Adam, Jace and I, plus her wounded brother, there was no one for her in Alicante. The city was a strange place even to her. The Lightwoods rarely came. There were still moments when the mood between the two of us was at times odd or even tense, but Isabelle was a very good actress and even better at covering it up. I might be a good warrior, but my social skills left a lot to be desired, if they even existed at all. Dealing with other women in particular was an ordeal. Like crossing a minefield without knowing the deadly spots.

Isabelle practiced with me again today. It had stopped snowing by then, but the temperatures hadn't risen, so the snow stayed several inches high and didn't melt away. There was still no sign of spring. So it was difficult to train in duels against each other without slipping on the frozen ground.

We stood at the edge of the small forest. As I was pleased to note, Isabelle possessed an impressive collection of daggers. The trees were dense enough to throw knives. At the same time, the spruces did not grow directly next to each other, but in random patterns. One could easily cross the forest or hit a target at a greater distance with an arrow. I wasn't a fan of indoor training, nor was my father. Why practice under relieved conditions in a warm hall when you could face the actual conditions of a fight under a clear sky?

As usual, Isabelle was completely dressed in black. She had swapped her high-heeled shoes for a pair of hard-soled leather boots. She wore tight-fitting, raven-black pants with a custom-made belt draped around the waistband with a row of daggers. I had already noticed in New York that she wasn't using any of the usual weapon-belts from the collection. Hers was made of solid cloth, painted with runes drawn in fine silver lines on the charcoal leather. Everything that, despite the increased number of straps, bags and sheaths, did not find a place on her hips, lay between us in a golden suitcase in the snow. The platinum blades of the knives did not reflect the sunlight. It was odd as they looked highly polished to the max. It had to be a precious metal from another world, otherwise I couldn't explain it. I couldn't help but grin. Isabelle was anything but ordinary.

I spent much of Isabelle's attendance teaching her a trick Valentine had taught me when I was about five. It was a special way of throwing the knife: normally the back of the hand would be up when aiming at the target and releasing the grip of the blade. My father's technique was mainly designed to surprise his opponents and let the knife fly at an unforeseen moment. It was thrown out of the back of the hand with the palms facing up. This method made it harder to hit targets that were in your immediate line of sight, but it wasn't designed for that either. It was used to throw the knives at sharper angles in order to hit opponents who were not directly in your sights and were therefore less likely to be attacked. I often wondered if I would ever use this or other of my father's more questionable techniques. But in the case of Jonathan's appearance, remembering such possibilities in combat could only be an advantage.

Isabelle seemed motivated enough to learn something new. Her skill with the daggers was excellent and definitely deadly to her enemy in a duel. It took her time to adjust to the different posture required for my father's trick, but after two hours of practice, she too mastered the backhand throw. I couldn't imagine my father's anger at my passing on his methods.

At first I had no idea what it would be like to train with Isabelle Lightwood, but it quickly became apparent that she could talk like a waterfall if you let her. Actually, I've never been a talkative person; maybe it was because all these years I already knew everything about the people in my life. At least that's what I trusted. Now it was a liberating feeling when Isabelle opened her mouth to tell me about things that had happened to her or that she had overheard. Unlike the other Lightwoods, she didn't put on friendly theater for me only to then shut me out. Isabelle included me, treated me as an equal, and considered my objections when I raised them. We weren't quite ready to laugh or joke with each other, but what we had was enough for me. It was more than I had ever hoped for.

The subject she was telling me about now shook my relaxed demeanor a bit, even though I tried not to let it show. It was about Kadir, who must have had a conversation with the Inquisitor and Maryse after last week's events. As a consequence of abusing his position and endangering Shadowhunters who had just reached adulthood, he had lost his position as first officer in the New York brigade. Kadir hadn't even tried to make excuses. He had unhesitatingly confessed to what he had done, and on more than one occasion during the briefing pointed out that he believed the Clave's decisions regarding me to be wrong. If he had his way, the Clave should watch me a lot harder than let me live like a guest at the Lightwoods'. The thought that Kadir was just one of many Nephilim who thought so worried me. He would certainly not be the only one who dared to put his ideas into action. And now that the Shadowhunter community knew all they had to fear was demotion, Kadir's plan had become an example. An example that others could easily imitate if they were brave enough.

"My mother stood up for you," Isabelle pulled me out of my confused thoughts. With the graceful movements of a cat, she strode toward the spruce where her blade had penetrated the chestnut trunk. I didn't remember seeing her throw. "She wanted to make it clear to the Inquisitor that you haven't broken a rule since you arrived in Alicante. But you know her a bit by now, she agrees with Kadir."

"Of course she does," I murmured bitterly as my fingers slid to my belt to throw the next knife. The longer I stood idly by, the more conspicuous my persistence became. "Jace and I have a meeting with her this afternoon. She has already indicated that it will be about my staying here." And about Valentine's next moves, but I didn't say that out loud. I had planned to ask the Inquisitor if they had heard anything new from him. There was a good chance she wouldn't share it with me anyway, but it was worth a try.

"However, the Inquisitor has allowed Kadir to present his findings so far. Regarding the ... angelic power, which the Clave wanted to know more about." Isabelle's voice trailed off and I couldn't blame her. The whole angelic power thing was a mystery, even to me. I could tell she wasn't too keen on the idea of Jace and I, or maybe just me, having special powers. "She's not happy about Jace's outburst. That and the measured data compared to Adam suggest that ... well, that angelic blood flows in his veins. She fears that the Clave may want to scrutinize him too." More angelic blood, I corrected silently. After all, the blood of Raziel flowed in every Nephilim.

"There aren't that many ways to deal with us. What are they going to do, lock us up in cells? They won't learn about our powers that way. It won't do them much good in the fight against my father either." I had thought so often about what the Clave might do to me. Did they have no choice but to investigate? But how? I could scarcely appreciate the magnitude of that power myself. At times I could feel the raw power coursing through my body as if looking for a way out. I didn't know how to get it to turn into something useful. Ever since Ithuriel had revealed the rune for the portal to me, I had dreamed of nothing quite like it. They had taken my stele away from me after the drama in the training room, for my own safety, the Inquisitor had let me know, but I didn't buy that. It was now up to Isabelle to give me runes when I needed them, but anything beyond the usual healing or power rune was forbidden. They were just looking for an excuse to ban me from wearing more powerful runes again.

"The Inquisitor would never allow Jace to be locked away," Isabelle replied thoughtfully, throwing the next knife. The force of the impact with the trunk was so great that the handle of the knife, which was sticking out of the wood, swung back and forth. "Maybe they will try to train your powers. So that you can control them. I think this could come in handy in the war against Valentine."

"But we would have to know what he's up to next." The frustration in my voice was unmistakable and the blade of my knife went so deep into the nearest spruce that I would have trouble pulling it out. "We haven't heard from him for days. It's like he doesn't even exist. Everything seems fine. It makes me crazy."

"Do you think he will actually use Mellartach against us once the ritual is complete?"

That was the plan Jonathan had revealed to us in New York, holding up Mellartach in a proud gesture. How long ago was that? Four weeks? Since then, two murders had occurred in New York that had caught the attention of the Nephilim. The body of a werewolf child had been found, the body bereft of blood to the last drop. It was reminiscent of a vampire's victim being left carelessly after they had fed on the blood. Only the vampires in New York denied any involvement in this murder. It was extremely unlikely that a vampire would willingly drink the blood of a werewolf. The two kinds of Downworlders loathed each other. Not that this murder was suspicious enough, a second, bloodless body turned up just a few days later. This time it was a warlock child.

It was only after the second murder that the Clave had decided to issue an official warning to the Shadow World with news of Valentine's return and his plan. Many had already known of Valentine's return, but it was the second part of the warning that had the Shadowworlders in turmoil. The treaty committed the Nephilim to protect the Shadowworlders from threats, especially threats from their own ranks. The fact that most of the Shadowhunters were holed up behind the safe gates of Alicante while Valentine and Jonathan hunted Downworlders around the world angered many.

I could understand their anger and shared it. While no murder had occurred since the Clave's warning, the next would not be long in coming. In my opinion, leaving the Downworlders alone in this matter was wrong. Without the protection of the Nephilim on the roads of Earth, my father had a free rein. It would ensure that he could put his plan into action more quickly.

"I don't know it. In my father's eyes, the Clave is misguided, but in all these years he has never spoken directly about a plan to destroy it. Sometimes he hinted, but I didn't think anything of it. I trusted his perspective to be correct." I shrugged and threw the next knife. "Anyone who doesn't share his point of view is his enemy."

Isabelle said nothing to that. She just pressed her lips together and reached for the nearest knife. A cold wind lashed our hair, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Her charcoal gray hair was tied back in a high ponytail, which accentuated her almost symmetrical face. Thinking back to the fairy tales my mother used to read to Jonathan and me when we were little, I'd always imagined the brave, invincible heroine to look just like her.

"How's Alec?" My hand rested on the uneven trunk of the spruce while I tried to pull the knife out with the other. The wood was cold to my touch. I stifled a sigh. How long would this winter last?

"He's recovered," Isabelle murmured in an annoyed, almost resentful tone, avoiding my gaze as I turned to her and returned to the invisible line we were throwing the knives from. "He and Jace spend most of their time outside of Alicante hunting. Or in the library. They're Parabatai." Something about that seemed to bother her, though I couldn't quite pinpoint what it was.

"That's good," I said without batting an eyelid, managing a small smile. I was relieved that Alec had recovered from his injuries. The fact that he was with Jace most of the time made it all the better. I had no interest in bumping into him anywhere, and the fact that I hadn't seen him once since we'd arrived from New York was a testament to the same intent on his part. I remembered too well the words he had hissed at me outside the armory on the day Jonathan's attack. All of this is your fault. Everything that's going to happen today will be your fault. You're destroying his life.

At the time, I was too surprised by his words to respond appropriately. So much time had passed that grass had grown over it. It seemed too late for a conversation now. So we went out of our way to avoid that uncomfortable feeling. Every time I heard him talking from the living room, I would turn on my heel and disappear back into my room. I could only assume that he did the same. He was attached to Jace and it was only natural that he wanted me as far away from his Parabatai as possible. Still, it wasn't fair.

I wondered how much Jace had told him about recent events. About the portal. About the abandoned Wayland estate. About Ithuriel. Isabelle knew none of this. Hardly anyone knew about it. I also wondered what Jace had told his grandmother. Adam had claimed that he hadn't told her anything. But even if that were true, the Clave still tracked every portal activity in Idris. In fact, without authorization, it was not even possible to create one directly to Alicante. So they had to know something, unless the portal had miraculously left no trace.

My thoughts drifted from the portal back to Jace as my next knife flew through the cold midday air with a long hiss. Our conversation had left so many questions unanswered and I longed to share them with someone. Isabelle knew him better than most, except for Alec, of course. For a moment I considered telling her about it. Maybe she could draw other conclusions from Jace's words that I hadn't.

You don't know her that well either, the low, suspicious voice in my head reminded me, which kicked in whenever I broke some of my cover. The voice wasn't wrong. So far, Isabelle and I have been on the right track, but I didn't want to find out how stable it actually was so early on. She might as well go to Jace and share what I had shared with her. I wanted to avoid any kind of animosity between Jace and me, which probably included keeping this private conversation to myself. Because even if he might still ignore me, I couldn't deny that there had been a very intimate, almost revealing touch to it.

Isabelle's whimper startled me so much that the next knife slipped from my trembling fingers at the wrong angle and just grazed the targeted spruce. She made an apologetic noise when she saw the shock on my face. "Sorry." Her cheeks flushed red and I raised my eyebrows in astonishment at the reaction. "It's just that it really upsets me how much time they spend together. I know I shouldn't mind, after all they're Parabatai, but I'm the one who has to spend the days alone. Even Max has friends in Alicante because he goes to school here. It's also unfair because Alec and I were never allowed to do that."

"Why not?" I had an inkling of what she was going to say, but wanted to hear the story confirmed from her mouth.

"Over the years, the Clave has eased my parents' sentence somewhat. They are now allowed to spend more time in Idris. This made it much easier for Max to make friends here," Isabelle explained, grimacing in an expression of gratitude and jealousy.

"But surely you know other Shadowhunters here, don't you?" I'd be surprised if not. The Nephilim were a small people. The ties between them were therefore often all the stronger.

"Of course, we have a lot of contact with the Herondales or the Penhallows, but these are all acquaintances rather than real friendships. Since Valentine's reappearance, our reputation has ... suffered. My parents fear that our family may now be targeted again for being part of the Circle." Her auburn eyes still avoided mine. It almost seemed to me that she didn't really want to have this conversation anymore. Her voice sounded strained, as if she was struggling to continue speaking.

"So it was probably not so advantageous that my mother came to visit your Institute." Or that her daughter now lives in your house. It cost me strength not to let my tone appear dry. I couldn't stop her words from being lodged in my memory. Everything my family touched sooner or later crumbled to ashes. The image of a close friendship between Maryse and my parents would not form in my mind. "Do you really think the Clave could be after you? After all, they have no proof."

"You can see for yourself what action the Clave takes when it comes to Valentine. Sometimes it seems pretty absurd, but it tries to protect itself. It's like a witch hunt: Valentine isn't here to answer for his actions, so others have to–" My stare silenced Isabelle. She curled her lips in sympathy. "I guess I don't have to explain that to you."

"No," I replied, and was silent for several seconds. Silence could be so haunting. I could almost see Isabelle shifting her feet, obviously uncomfortable with the silence. "Have they indicated that your punishment will be increased again?"

"Not yet," Isabelle replied hastily and quickly began to awaken from her rigid state. She seemed frozen in place. The subject must actually weigh on her. My eyes swiveled to the forest front and the corner of my lips curled down. Even her hit rate had gotten worse. "But look at Hodge. Even now they have not allowed him to take refuge in Alicante."

A hot pang of shame rose in me as I realized I honestly had forgotten about Hodge the whole time. How awkward to overlook his absence so easily, when he was one of the few who had welcomed me to the Institute from the start. If the image of the Lightwoods and my parents was blurred in my mind, then the image of Hodge as a member of the Circle was unimaginable. I couldn't suppress the spark of pity in my chest. It was the Lightwoods' numerous relationships that had spared them a similar punishment. In comparison, the Starkweathers had never been a particularly influential family. I pictured the man in the storm-grey suit standing at the library window, an antique book in his hands, but with his thoughts still longingly in Alicante. "How unfair that they banned him."

Isabelle just shrugged. "I don't know enough about his time in the Circle to judge that. My parents never want to talk to us about it. Hodge must have done things far more horrific otherwise his sentence would not be justified."

It had to be easy to think like that. Being able to accept things the way they were because, by accident, you ended up on the winning side at the end of the story. Unlike Isabelle, whose parents had kept their sins from her, my father had been very transparent about who had been part of the Circle and what their duties had been. So I knew pretty well the enthusiasm with which the Lightwoods, Maryse in particular, had carried out their duties as members of the Circle. Nonetheless, the Maryse in my father's stories didn't have much in common with the person I had met.

The Lightwoods were an influential family and had been for generations. They were close friends with the Herondales, who pulled even more powerful strings on the Clave. Having Jace Herondale in their home certainly suited them well, it showed the trust the Inquisitor had in the Lightwoods. Although I honestly doubted that Imogen Herondale would trust anyone who didn't share her blood. I couldn't imagine her trusting anyone who was once part of the Circle, even though her son had been Valentine's second in command. It didn't match. The cool and clearly dismissive welcome to Maryse in Alicante was a further indication of this.

"My father works day and night to maintain our family's position on the Clave," Isabelle continued when I didn't reply. "I hardly ever see him anymore."

I had only seen Robert Lightwood once before and could hardly remember him. It had been during my interrogation at the Gard. Robert and the other Lightwoods had taken a seat together on one of the front benches and watched the spectacle around me with careful eyes. In my memory he was nothing but a tall, strong man with dark hair.

"I haven't been introduced to him yet," I said, tugging at my knife, but the blade jammed in the cold, unyielding wood that surrounded it. "Are his efforts bearing fruit?"

Even Max, who spent most of his time at the academy, I had already got to know a bit. Every time I walked into a room he was in, his face would light up with childish admiration. Unlike the other Lightwoods, he was always friendly, and his reaction to me was sometimes even enthusiastic. He thought it was cool that I was Valentine's daughter. In his eyes, I was the good daughter of an evil villain who would one day stop him. Like a real superhero. While I wasn't as optimistic about the whole thing as he was, his naïve expectations were a refreshing change. The little boy asked tons of questions, most of them about my past. To a large extent, I've been honest, but sometimes when I felt the answer would upset him or another adult in the room, I'd make up a safer truth. They never left me alone with Max. Most of the time Isabelle was annoyed by her younger brother because she wanted to be left alone. I didn't mind his curiosity. It gave me the opportunity to innocently share little bits of my story with the rest of the family as well. In their minds I had a traumatizing childhood full of violence, manipulation and terror.

"That remains to be seen. It's like you said it; Valentine went into hiding and since then the Clave seems to have fallen into a kind of trance. It's maddening." Isabelle sighed. Neither of us spoke for a while. We threw knife after knife until at least one blade was sticking out of each trunk of the front row of spruces.

Half an hour later, as the blades were being pulled out, Isabelle cleared her throat again. The atmosphere around us changed the moment she decided to address the subject that must have been on her mind for a few days. She opened her mouth, but then hesitated for several seconds, as if searching for the right words, "You don't have to answer my next question if you don't want to, but I've been wondering what happened that first day of training when you had to be taken care of by the Silent Brothers. My mother doesn't know much herself and I don't want to ask Jace because he gets angry every time anyone brings it up." Isabelle's voice had turned to a thin thread of fear of rejection.

Now it was me who hesitated. Ever since the portal incident, I'd relegated that day to the back of my mind. Every time the Waylands estate came into my mind's eye, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up reflexively and I began to shiver. Ithuriel had shown us what my father was capable of. "Why is Jace getting angry?" I asked instead, trying to keep my tone casual, but my body language gave me away. Isabelle just gave me a quick sideways glance and then her eyebrows shot up.

"Well, maybe I could answer that for you if I knew what happened," she replied, partly unsure and partly confused by my counter-question.

"Nobody knows what really happened except for Adam, Jace and me," I finally admitted. "And since I don't want to put my life in danger, it must remain a secret." So far, the Inquisitor had not been able to discover the truth. As long as that was the case, I had nothing to fear. I was amazed that Jace hadn't told her at the first opportunity. It gave me hope that he wouldn't betray me. But my father had taught me early on never to trust the word of another. There were too many opportunities to be betrayed and lied to.

I didn't keep the ability to create this portal with a simple rune secret out of selfishness or arrogance. But because I feared what would happen if the Clave, and therefore the community, found out. It was clear that no one should have such power. No ordinary Nephilim. Creating a new rune was an ability that belonged solely to the angels. We were too mortal to wield such power. Strictly speaking. But if it did, then Valentine Morgenstern's daughter was the last that should be capable of this power. Especially if she didn't understand the magnitude of this gift herself. Surely enough Shadowhunters would object, and I would have understood that fear. A power flowed through my veins, the extent of which I did not understand myself. With power came responsibility and, in my mind, there were two kinds of people: those who coveted power wanted to control it and those who feared it wanted to destroy it.

I made a face with effort. There was a lot in me that was reluctant to tell Isabelle the story of that day. A bond had just formed between us and I was afraid of damaging it again with the truth. This friendship was fresh and fragile and I didn't want to test how much it would take. But what was the point of lying if sooner or later she would find out the truth? I knew it would come out. The truth always found a way.

So I took a deep breath and started telling the story. I told her my dreams of Ithuriel. About the rune he had showed me. I told her about the fight with Jace for not believing the rune. About the stele Adam had lent me in the training room and the portal I had created with it that had taken us to the Waylands' manor. I told her everything, every memory that stuck in my mind. I was still talking when night fell over our heads and we packed up the daggers and walked back to the house.

And finally, after I'd talked my heart out and revealed every last detail to her, Isabelle's reaction, contrary to my expectations, was neither angry nor scared. A deep astonishment showed on her narrow, delicate face. Surprise and disbelief perhaps.

Maybe I had misjudged her.

-

Another week, another chapter. What do you think about Clary's and Isabelle's friendship? Will it last? What do you think about the topics they discussed? Tell me in the comments!

Thank  you so much for all the positive feedback guys! :)

Skyllen